236 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



make a noise by cracking sticks or brushing 

 against trees, in the gloom ; but the forest was 

 so open that it favored me. When I reached 

 the edge of the beaver-meadow it was light 

 enough to shoot, though the front sight still 

 glimmered indistinctly. Streaks of cold red 

 showed that the sun would soon rise. 



Before leaving the shelter of the last spruces 

 I halted to listen ; and almost immediately 

 heard a curious splashing sound from the 

 middle of the meadow, where the brook 

 broadened into small willow-bordered pools. 

 I knew at once that a moose was in one of 

 these pools, wading about and pulling up the 

 water-lilies by seizing their slippery stems in 

 his lips, plunging his head deep under water 

 to do so. The moose love to feed in this 

 way in the hot months, when they spend all 

 the time they can in the water, feeding or 

 lying down; nor do they altogether abandon 

 the habit even when the weather is so cold 

 that icicles form in their shaggy coats. 



Crouching, I stole noiselessly along the 

 edge of the willow-thicket. The stream 

 twisted through it from side to side in zigzags, 

 so that every few rods I got a glimpse down a 

 lane of black water. In a minute I heard a 

 slight splashing near me ; and on passing the 

 next point of bushes, I saw the shadowy out- 

 line of the moose's hindquarters, standing in 

 a bend of the water. In a moment he walked 

 onwards, disappearing. I ran forward a 

 couple of rods, and then turned in among the 

 willows, to reach the brook where it again 

 bent back towards me. The splashing in the 

 water, and the rustling of the moose's body 



