SHOT AT A BULL-MOOSE. 331 



it the traces of man's work, add to the size and 

 density of the timber around its margin, and double 

 the volume of water, and the reader will have a 

 picture so like the landscape we traversed this 

 morning, that this one might be mistaken for the 

 Scotch river. Turning sharply round a point in 

 the bank, which was densely clothed with hemlock, 

 completely hiding objects up stream from those 

 beneath, we came suddenly upon a patriarch bull- 

 moose of the most gigantic proportions, floating with 

 all except his head submerged to avoid the per- 

 secution of a swarm of flies that hovered over him. 

 As soon as he observed us, he made a plunge for- 

 ward for shore like a buck-jumping horse, causing 

 by his bulk and impetuosity the water to fly for 

 yards around in spray ; again and again the bounds 

 were repeated, each carrying him further into shoal- 

 water, and exposing more of his massive proportions. 

 My double-barrel in a moment usurps in my hands 

 the place of the paddle, the current, as if favouring 

 my effort, swings the now uncontrolled canoe into 

 an admirable position for shooting, the but comes 

 cleanly to my shoulder, the eye and sight in a 

 moment are aligned upon my object ; the finger 

 presses the trigger, and a dull thud rapidly succeeds 

 the report. The bullet is well placed, for the stricken 

 animal's back hollows, the head is thrown up, and 

 the legs move with uncertain action. Every step 

 appears to be the unfortunate's last, but still he 

 struggles gamely forward and gains the shore. At 



