i68 SPORT INDEED 



crafty of all wild animals, a fox, be ambling on 

 ahead of me in the road, unconscious of the fact that 

 there was a man behind him with a 40-82 rifle ? I 

 thought to myself, " Perhaps Keynard has had a good 

 night's hunt, and captured and eaten a partridge or 

 two with half-a-dozen field-mice by way of dessert, and 

 now he's contented and tired and on his way to his 

 habitation and his bed. 



I was too near the Caribou Bog to fire at him — the 

 noise might alarm the game — and so I walked on be- 

 hind him until my foot broke a branch. He heard 

 the sound and the next instant I saw a streak of 

 yellow color flying through the trees. It was the last 

 appearance and exit of Mr. Fox. I watched for a 

 moment in the direction of his departure and fancied 

 I heard the pounding of a buck's forefoot. Just then 

 the sun shone out bright and warm and I stood for a 

 few minutes enjoying its rays and listening. The 

 pounding continued, but I finally concluded that it 

 came from a giant woodpecker hammering at one of 

 the trees. At this moment, turning my face and 

 looking up the road, I saw something that caused my 

 heart to beat a rataplan. Not thirty feet away and 

 coming toward me was a monstrous cow-moose. She 

 was apparently wrapped in thought, possibly of her 

 last night's happiness when she thrashed through the 

 alders and meadow grass with her lover — him of the 

 towering antlers. There was a small sapling bent 



