loo SPORT INDEED 



cocked . my rifle. The click of the cocking was not 

 loud but it stopped the advancing pair of moose lovers 

 as if they had run up against a stone wall. They 

 stood there for a second or two, and then wheeled 

 about, started for the woods, and got away. This 

 was my last moose experience, so far as they were 

 concerned, and it taught me a lesson. Had I but 

 waited until they were directly in front of me, one 

 good shot and that bull lover of hers would have been 

 "settled for life." 



It is needless to say that my pride was sadly bruised 

 by the result of my impatience. Every hunter, as 

 you may surmise, is blessed with plenty of pride, and 

 it is so thin-skinned and so easily bruised that if a 

 moose should escape him without, at least, a damaged 

 limb he never forgets his faux-jpas nor forgives him- 

 self. Therefore, ye sports, I will hatch a precept for 

 the use of him who may need it, — and it would be 

 well for him to paste it in his hat: — "Sheathe thy 

 impatience" and you'll miss a multitude of disap- 

 pointments. 



