NORTHERN GAME TRAILS 289 



Whether on the trail hunting, or even stalking, 

 excepting when very near the game, Mac trav- 

 eled with remarkable swiftness, and it taxed me 

 to the utmost to stay with him. He, too, had the 

 eye of an eagle, no less, and it was on account of 

 these traits I gave him the title of "Old High 

 Speed" and "Old Eagle Eye," at which, when I 

 explained their relation, Mac smiled his famous 

 broad smile. It was little things like this, denot- 

 ing appreciation, that kept him always keyed up, 

 keen, yet serious, but under all a good-natured 

 harmony. 



We had traveled nearly a mile and were just 

 topping a little crest when the very unexpected 

 happened. Mac suddenly dropped to one knee. 

 "Look," he whispered, "shoot him; shoot him 

 good," he added. About two hundred and fifty 

 yards in front, in the low-growing firs, a magnifi- 

 cent bull moose, with handsome wide antlers was 

 swinging up the mountain with long, graceful 

 stride. The old mauser split the quiet air, and 

 rather to my surprise (for it all happened so quick- 

 ly) a giant moose collapsed and rolled down the 

 mountain for a hundred yards, and then lodged 

 at the edge of the timber. "You knock him cold," 

 said Old Eagle Eye, and added, "You feel warm 

 now, eh?" Then came his cheering smile again. 



