MORE OF THE MOOSE 51 



times a splash of blood on the side of a tree, or a drop 

 on a leaf, or a streak of it on some deadfall the wounded 

 moose had stepped over. At one place he had passed 

 between two trees, evidently a tight fit, as it showed 

 the blood from the left hip, where he was struck, down 

 his leg as far as the knee. At another place he had 

 stopped and quite a circle of blood was formed. But 

 nowhere was there any sign that he had lain down. 

 Nowhere was there blood enough to show that he had 

 been mortally hit. We followed his trail for over two 

 hours and then reluctantly concluded that our moose 

 would live and prosper perhaps for many a year to 

 come, as he would be duly careful in the future to keep 

 as far away from the range of a rifle as his haunts and 

 habits would permit. At all events, he would never 

 again feed in a meadow in daylight during the open 

 season — for a moose needs to be shot at but once to 

 make him forever after the most cautious animal that 

 roams the wild woods. 



