134 A MOOSE HUNT ON SNOW-SHOES 



The chase now follows along one of those natural meadows due, 

 perhaps, to the labour of ancient colonies of beavers, which are found 

 so often in the heart of the wilds, and presently leads out upon a 

 woodland lake stretching away mile after mile, studded with 

 islets, and indented with deep coves and bays. The moose, 

 unlike the caribou, under ordinary conditions avoids ice. His 

 small and pointed hoofs render him about as awkward on a slippery 

 surface as a horse, and he will not venture on the frozen surface 

 if he can possibly help it. However, his sorely bleeding hocks urge 

 him anywhere away from the knife-like edges of the broken crust. 

 In a trice every snow-shoe is whipped off and, with moccasined feet, 

 the men swiftly follow at a run the deep scratches in the ice, and 

 the blood-red dotted trail reaching far ahead till lost in the distance. 



Soon, however, the great deer tires of the hard surface and bolts 

 away among the stems of a tall forest of hemlocks. He is showing 

 unmistakable signs of fatigue : the stride is shorter and the hock 

 leaves a deeper groove as it is lifted with diminished speed and energy. 

 Marks of the great teeth in the snow show that he has scooped 

 out a mouthful now and then, a practice in which he never indulges 

 save when extremely hard pressed. 



But now old Uncle Enoch, the captain of the hunt, is seen to be 

 casting anxious glances towards the low winter sun hurrying down- 

 ward to the clear cold indigo-like horizon, and throwing lengthening 

 shadows from the tall trees athwart the whiteness. He calls the 

 party to a halt where a clear brook is brawling between great grey 

 boulders near a fine grove of hardwood. 



4 \Ve must camp here to-night, men, and take him to-morrow.' 



The words of Uncle Enoch are ever obeyed by all the able- 

 bodied men of the village, for he is their self-appointed yet natural 

 leader. Whether on his knees in the trim little ' meetin' house ', 

 unburdening his conscience with his own peculiar potency of voca- 

 bulary, or leading such a stern foot-chase as here described, this 

 hardy veteran is ever the prominent figure. The snows of three- 

 score winters have not stained with white a single hair of his head, 

 or dimmed his eagle eyesight, or abated his physical powers by one 

 jot. 



In the winter twilight, a single planet in the pale-gold east 

 shining brightly meanwhile, and a delicate purple vapour draping 

 the distant hillsides, the men begin to shovel with their snow-shoes 

 downwards to the hard soil beneath. Some fell trees for the night's 

 supply of fuel ; others build a ' lean to '. A ' lean to ' is easily made, 

 the name explaining itself. Two stout forked poles are set up, 

 bearine a cross bar. from which slender Doles are slanted to the 



