KILLING A MOOSE. 367 



and eager to show his politeness. Pointing to a beauti- 

 ful green little cape in the distance, he said there was 

 his camp; and, to make it especially attractive, add- 

 ed : " There is a capital spring of water there," and 

 asked us to go over to it. As we swept lazily along, he 

 told us of his success in hunting, which, from the high 

 water, had been poor. I think he had killed but six or 

 eight deer. " But," said he, " last night I killed a moose." 

 You must know that killing a moose among these back- 

 woodsmen is equal to winning a battle. Though no 

 bigger than a buffalo, it is a very different animal. 

 Wilder than the deer, it dwells in the most inaccessible 

 haunts, and it is only on rare occasions that a bold 

 fellow ventures od the ordinary hunting-grounds of this 



region. 



The camp was beautifully located on a gentle slope in 

 an open wood — giving here and there, between the tall 

 trees, glimpses of the sparkling lake. They had erected 

 a nice bark shanty, and were busy jerking venison. 

 The man who had killed the moose had not yet got over 

 the excitement of the event, and was full of his exploit. 

 "Tell me how it happened?" I said. "Well," he 

 replied, " I and Moody were out hunting deer with a 

 jack ; I had killed one with buck-shot, and we were 



