MOOSE-HUNTING IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 41 



I recovered my snow-shoes and my pole with lamentable 

 loss of time. I rushed on, to fall again within two minutes. 

 I slowed up, but in the excitement I repeated the acrobatic 

 feat once more in a disagreeably short time. If I had not 

 fallen, I would have surely killed the two Moose I had 

 singled out; for I came up to them, and was preparing to 

 shoot, when I fell the last and hardest fall of the day. After 

 that the course was more level, but I was too nearly 

 exhausted to regain my lost advantages. I had run those 

 Moose at least fifteen miles, in snow four feet deep. They 

 were tired, and I knew they were failing; but I was even 

 more tired than they. By the time I lost confidence in my 

 ability to run them down, I was very near camp, and I 

 slowly poled myself along to the place of needed rest, pre- 

 senting the aspect of a hungry, tired, and disappointed 

 man. 



The snow continued to fall for four days after the day of 

 disappointment, the incidents of which are recorded above; 

 and at the end of that time the little log cabin on the banks 

 of Warm River was completely hidden from view, except 

 the shack chimney and the sooty line that marked the 

 direction of the wind and smoke. 



The snow lay, soft and even, seven feet deep all over the 

 mountains and valleys around. With an enthusiasm inten- 

 sified by the demands of appetite, I renewed my efforts to 

 comply with my contract to supply the camp with fresh 

 meat. With a rifle that weighed nine and three-fourths 

 pounds strapped on my shoulders, and a very light dinner 

 at my belt, I again buckled on my snow-shoes, again grasped 

 the long, light propelling-pole, and again started in search 

 of the great ruminants. The depth of snow, when one is 

 fairly launched upon it, does not enter into account when 

 snow-shoeing. On that occasion, the great carpet was 

 unusually soft for so great a depth; but I was every way 

 equipped for easy and rapid traveling. Around the pole I 

 carried was a disk of rawhide, stretched upon a hoop like a 

 drum-head, that prevented its sinking into the snow, and 

 afforded a saving of propelling power. 



