A WOUNDED MOOSE 59 



ahead of us, but at neither time were we fortunate 

 enough to catch a glimpse of him. 



Our brain befuddled with the chase, 

 We took no note of time or space; 



and before we were aware of it the morning hours 

 had gone and we found ourselves on the borders of 

 another lake, miles away from our canoe and our 

 camp. 



About three o'clock in the afternoon we built a 

 little fire, heated some water in our tin cup and boiled 

 a bouillon capsule for each of us, which we drank. 

 Then came the question : " What shall we do now ? " 

 The guide said we were about four and a half miles 

 from the canoe, and that in following the twists and 

 turns of the wounded bull we had covered a distance 

 of about eighteen miles. His advice was that we 

 should start at once for our canoe — after spotting the 

 trees with the axe to enable us to take up the bull's 

 trail again and track him to his deathbed. So at 

 half-past three we started back, the guide assuring me 

 tliat he knew the way perfectly well. Maybe he did, 

 but coming events left a shadow of doubt on my mind. 

 He first led through an alder swamp that only needed 

 a Bengal tiger or two to rival an Indian jungle. 

 Lathered with perspiration we finally got through 

 this and faced a high ridge covered with numerous 

 windfalls. After scaling the ridge and getting down 



