232 THE WILDERNESS HUNETR. 



the hills, was a little hummock, tufted with 

 firs, so as to afford us just the cover we needed. 

 Keeping back from the edge of the morass 

 we were able to walk upright through the for- 

 est, until we got the point where he was lying 

 in a line with this little hummock. We then 

 dropped on our hands and knees, and crept 

 over the soft, wet sward, where there was 

 nothing to make a noise. Wherever the 

 ground rose at all we crawled flat on our 

 bellies. The air was still, for it was a very 

 calm morning. 



At last we reached the hummock, and I got 

 into position for a shot, taking a final look at 

 my faithful 45-90 Winchester to see that all 

 was in order. Peering cautiously through the 

 shielding evergreens, I at first could not make 

 out where the moose was lying, until my eye was 

 caught by the motion of his big ears, as he 

 occasionally flapped them lazily forward. 

 Even then I could not see his outline ; but I 

 knew where he was, and having pushed my 

 rifle forward on the moss, I snapped a dry 

 twig to make him rise. My veins were thrill- 

 ing and my heart beating with that eager, 

 fierce excitement, known only to the hunter 

 of big game, and forming one of the keenest 

 and strongest of the many pleasures which with 

 him go to make up "the wild joy of living." 



As the sound of the snapping twig smote 

 his ears the moose rose nimbly to his feet, 

 with a lightness on which one would not have 

 reckoned in a beast so heavy of body. He 

 stood broadside to me for a moment, his un- 

 gainly head slightly turned, while his ears 

 twitched and his nostrils snuffed the air. 



