THE MAKING OF THE MOCCASINS 125 



if they are loose enough to rub with a leathery swish; 

 his musk-rat fur cap, if it has any conspicuous colour; 

 his boots, if they are noisy and given to crunching. If 

 only he aim true, he will have moccasins soon enough. 

 Leaving all impedimenta, he follows back on his own 

 steps to the place where he last saw the trail. Perhaps 

 the saucy jay cries with a shrill, scolding shriek that 

 sends cold shivers down the trapper s spine. He wishes 

 he could get his hands on its wretched little neck ; and 

 turning himself to a statue, he stands stone-still till the 

 troublesome bird settles down. Then he goes on. 



Here is the moose trail.! 



He dare not follow direct. That would lead past 

 her hiding-place and she would bolt. He resorts to 

 artifice; but, for that matter, so has the moose resorted 

 to artifice. The trapper, too, circles forward, cutting 

 the moose s magic guard with transverse zigzags. But 

 he no longer walks. He crouches, or creeps, or glides 

 noiselessly from shelter to shelter, very much the way 

 a cat advances on an unwary mouse. He sinks to his 

 knees and feels forward for snow-pads every pace. 

 Then he is on all-fours, still circling. His detour has 

 narrowed and narrowed till he knows she must be in 

 that aspen thicket. The brush is sparser. She has 

 chosen her resting-ground wisely. The man falls for 

 ward on his face, closing in, closing in, wiggling and 

 watching till he makes a horrible discovery. That 

 jay is perched on the topmost bough of the grove ; and 

 the man has caught a glimpse of something buff-col 

 oured behind the aspens. It may be a moose, or only 

 a log. The untried hunter would fire. Not so the trap 

 per. Hap-hazard aim means fighting a wounded moose, 

 or letting the creature drag its agony off to inaccessible 



