With Gun ftp Rod in Canada 



cruising the land, stuck up my little tent down by the 

 river, and put in for the night. I was anxious to get that 

 moose, since I figured that I could sell its horns, hide, 

 and head for enough money to pay for the risk of killing 

 out of season. I felt pretty certain that it was yarded 

 up for the winter in the vicinity of the sidehill where I 

 had started it, and that if I waited for a soft, deep snov/ 

 with just enough crust to make good snow-shoeing, I'd 

 have a good chance of getting it. The next day I went 

 home to Caledonia. 



" The week before Christmas we had a heavy snow; 

 then it rained: then froze. On the evening of the 

 twenty-first of December I drove out to Lowe's Landing 

 with my snow-shoes, rifle, and grub for three or four 

 days. The boy took the team back. The next morning 

 I struck off over the ice for Shelburne River. All the still 

 waters were frozen, and the snow-shoeing in the woods 

 was just right to make easy going. Late in the afternoon 

 I was on the ground where I had seen the big moose. 

 Inside of half an hour I found his tracks; in another 

 twenty minutes I saw him browsing with three cows and 

 a small bull on the edge of a swamp. The setting sun 

 made him shine as if he were made of ice and snow 

 instead of horn and fur. A bunch of birches was between 

 us, and in order to get a good shot I tried to move to the 

 left. He saw me and started to trot away. In my 

 anxiety to get a clean shot, I ran out into the open, and 

 one of the lashings on my snow-shoe gave way and 

 threw me. When I got up the moose was gone. I 

 was disappointed but not discouraged, so walked 

 down to the brook and made camp for the night. 

 The next day I hunted again, and got one long shot 

 at the glittering brute — about five hundred yards." He 

 paused. 



" Did vou hit it ?" I asked, impatiently excited, 



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