THE WAYS OF SPORTSMEN 283 



If the game on this occasion had been, say a 

 wild turkey or a grouse, its discriminating eye 

 would have figured out the hunter there on that 

 log very quickly. 



This manly exploit of the Western hunter 

 reminds me of an exploit of a Brooklyn man, 

 who last winter killed a bull moose in Maine. 

 It was a more sportsmanlike proceeding, but my 

 sympathies were entirely with the moose. The 

 hero tells his story in a New York paper. 

 With his guides, all armed with Winchester 

 rifles, he penetrated far into the wilderness till 

 he found a moose yard. It was near the top 

 of a mountain. 



They started one of the animals and then 



took up its trail. 



As soon as the moose found it was being fol- 

 lowed, it led right off in hopes of outwalking 

 its enemies. But they had snow-shoes and he 

 did not; they had food and he did not. On 

 they went, pursued and pursuers, through the 

 snow-clogged wilderness, day after day. The 

 moose led them the most difficult route he could 



find. V -1^ 



At night the men would make camp, build a 

 fire, eat and smoke, and roll themselves in their 

 blankets and sleep. In the morning they would 

 soon come up to the camping place of the poor 

 moose, where the imprint of his great body 

 showed in the snow, and where he had passed 

 a cold, supperless night. 



On the fifth day the moose began to show 

 sicrns of fatigue ; he rested often, he also tried 



