OLD SCORES 263 



on that barrel again, to see it is pointing 

 right. Poor moose ! your browsing days are 

 over. The trigger is pressed, the woods ring 

 with the report, and on the ground she lies, 

 with scarcely a muscle moving. The bullet 

 went straight to the bull's-eye the butt of her 

 ear. As I ran up to her prostrate form, a 

 salute of " Well done ! well done ! " was borne 

 to me from those hitherto upbraiding lips, 

 " You can do it when you want to." 



" Do what ? Shoot dogs ! " 



" Oh ! tut ! that's unkind." 



" Well, that is only squaring up old scores 

 before getting out of the woods." 



While the conversation was proceeding 

 he was approaching me to find at my feet 

 the carcase of a three-year-old farrow-cow 

 moose. As soon as he had looked at her my 

 attention was called to the unusually dark 

 colour of her hair, which he informed me was 

 a sure indication of her being a fat one, which 

 she proved. After bleeding her, he looked 

 around as to the chances of getting the carcase 

 home, to find a team that could be brought 

 alongside her. So while E. remained to dress 

 the body, I went to the house for an ox-team, 



