THE MOOSE. 235 



lessly. Then we came to another beaver- 

 meadow, which offered fine feed for the ponies. 

 On its edge we hastily pitched camp, just at 

 dusk. We tossed down the packs in a dry 

 grove, close to the brook, and turned the 

 tired ponies loose in the meadow, hobbling 

 the little mare that carried the bell. The 

 ground was smooth. We threw a cross-pole 

 from one to the other of two young spruces, 

 which happened to stand handily, and from it 

 stretched and pegged out a piece of canvas, 

 which we were using as a shelter tent. Be- 

 neath this we spread our bedding, laying under 

 it the canvas sheets in which it had been 

 wrapped. There was still bread left over 

 from yesterday's baking, and in a few mo- 

 ments the kettle was boiling and the frying- 

 pan sizzling, while one of us skinned and 

 cut into suitable pieces two grouse we had 

 knocked over on our march. For fear of 

 frightening the moose we built but a small 

 fire, and went to bed soon after supper, being 

 both tired and cold. Fortunately, what little 

 breeze there was blew up the valley. 



At dawn I was awake, and crawled out of 

 my buffalo bag, shivering and yawning. My 

 companion still slumbered heavily. White 

 frost covered whatever had been left outside. 

 The cold was sharp, and I hurriedly slipped 

 a pair of stout moccasins on my feet, drew on 

 my gloves and cap, and started through the 

 ghostly woods for the meadow where we had 

 seen the moose sign. The tufts of grass were 

 stiff with frost; black ice skimmed the edges 

 and quiet places of the little brook. 



I walked slowly, it being difficult not to 



