102 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 



forwards above the bushes ! Another half-hour passes in 

 creeping like snakes through the wet bushes, which we 

 can scarcely hope will conceal us much longer. It seems 

 an age, and often and anxiously I look at the cap of my 

 single-barrelled rifle. I am ahead, and at length, judging 

 one hundred and twenty yards to be the distance, I can 

 stand it no longer, but resolve to decide matters by a 

 shot, and fire through an opening in the bushes of the 

 swamp. Joe understands my glance, and placing the call 

 to his lips, utters the challenge of a bull-moose. Slowly 

 and majestically the great animal rises, directly facing 

 me, and gazes upon me for a moment ; a headlong stagger 

 follows the report, and he wheels round behind a clump 

 of bushes. 



" Bravo I you hit him, you hit sure enough," shouts 

 Joe, levelling and firing at a large cow-moose which had, 

 unknown to us, been lying close beside the bull. " Come 

 along," and we all plunge headlong into the swamp. 

 Dreadful cramps attacked my legs, and almost prevented 

 my getting through — the result of sudden violent motion 

 after the restrained movements in the cold wet moss and 

 huckleberry-bushes. A few paces on the other side, and 

 the great bull suddenly rose in front of us, and strided 

 on into thicker covert. Another shot, and he sank life- 

 less at our feet. The first ball had entered the very 

 centre of his breast and cut the lower portion of the 

 heart. 



Late that night our canoe glided through the dark 

 waters of the lake towards the settlement. The massive 

 head and antlers were with us. 



" Ah, Grandmother," said Joe, as we passed the indis- 

 tinct outlines of the spirit rocks, " you very good to us 



