260 HUNTING CAMPS. 



number of Frenchmen who were fishing. Some of 

 them were, to say the least of it, very heavy men, and I 

 could not help wondering how their horses had managed 

 to transport them over the bad road, for, judging by 

 the fishermen's figures, they certainly looked incapable 

 of walking very far. They were clothed in a variety of 

 colours, one wearing a football jersey in broad green 

 and white stripes. They were a delightfully cheery 

 party, and had had excellent sport, they told us, catching 

 trout up to 7 Ibs. in weight. 



At this camp we left our last buck-board with the 

 horse and man belonging to it, and had I only been 

 able to foresee the experience through which the man 

 whom we had named Charlie because of the extra- 

 ordinary resemblance he bore to a mutual friend was 

 shortly to pass, I would very gladly have stayed with 

 him. Some days after the Frenchmen had taken their 

 departure, Charlie awoke early one morning, and looking 

 out from the ruinous log hut which he and the horse 

 occupied, he saw a very fine bull moose, attracted, as he 

 opined, by the presence of the horse, walking slowly 

 across the clearing towards the hut. Charlie appears 

 for a time to have been interested in the "gros gros 

 orignal" but later felt puzzled what to do, as the 

 moose continued to come nearer and nearer, and Charlie 

 had no weapon but a revolver, though, as he explained 

 to us afterwards, " If I had had a permission, I 

 could have killed him with that, he was so close." 

 The upshot of the incident was tame, for Charlie 

 frightened the moose away, though he assured us 

 " had it not fled when I shouted, I should have fired, 

 even without a permission" Questioned as to the size 

 of the bull, he repeated, " Gros, gros ! " and his story 



