118 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



looks toward the shore for it. There is always 

 a slight gleam on the water, Uncle Nathan says, 

 even in the darkest night, and the dusky form of 

 the moose can be distinctly seen upon it. When 

 the hunter sees this darker shadow, he lifts his gun 

 to the sky and gets the range of its barrels, then 

 lowers it till it covers the mark, and fires. 



The largest moose Uncle Nathan ever killed is 

 mounted in the State House at Augusta. He shot 

 him while hunting in winter on snow-shoes. The 

 moose was reposing upon the ground, with his head 

 stretched out in front of him, as one may sometimes 

 see a cow resting. The position was such that only 

 a quartering shot through the animal's hip could 

 reach its heart. Studying the problem carefully, 

 and taking his own time, the hunter fired. The 

 moose sprang into the air, turned, and came with 

 tremendous strides straight toward him. "I knew 

 he had not seen or scented me," said Uncle Na- 

 than, "but, by hemp, I wished myself somewhere 

 else just then; for I was lying right down in his 

 path." But the noble animal stopped a few yards 

 short, and fell dead with a bullet hole through his 

 heart. 



When the moose yard in the winter, that is, 

 restrict their wanderings to a well-defined section 

 of the forest or mountain, trampling down the snow 

 and beating paths in all directions, they browse off 

 only the most dainty morsels first; when they go 

 over the ground a second time they crop a little 

 cleaner; the third time they sort still closer, tilJ 



