A WOUNDED MOOSE 57 



dence and safe moose conduct, the noise of the late 

 rifle shots should by this time have driven him miles 

 away from this locality. It appears it did not. And 

 what did I do under the circumstances ? Well, pre- 

 cisely what any other man would have done. Up 

 went my rifle and without sighting or even an attempt 

 to take careful aim, I blazed away. And the moose ? 

 Ah ! Like a ghost he came and like a ghost he dis- 

 appeared. The guide — a French Canadian — said: 

 " Vat you shoot at ? " "A bull-moose," I replied. 

 " Didn't you see him ? " " No, I no see him ! " 

 " Well," I said, " we'll take up his trail and see if he's 

 hit." " You no hit him," he answered disdainfully. 



We tramped around trying to find his tracks but 

 without much hope of seeing them or the tell-tale 

 drops of blood ; for the bog was soft and the feet of 

 the moose thus left no mark as he ran, and the red 

 moss that covered the bog prevented the blood — if 

 there was any — from showing on it. We finally 

 worked out of the bog and took the ground leading 

 up to a ridge. Making careful search as we walked, 

 we found, at last, a drop of fresh, hot blood on a leaf ; 

 then a little further on, a pool of blood that would 

 have filled a bucket. This blood was mixed with the 

 pink tissue of the lungs, showing plainly that the 

 bullet had gone through that organ of his anatomy. I 

 now proposed to spot the trees so that we could find 

 the place again and then go back to camp, giving the 



