The Moose. 229 



climbed down the tree, patched up his torn snow-shoe and 

 limped after the moose, which he finally killed. 



An old hunter named Purvis told me of an adventure of 

 the kind, which terminated fatally. He was hunting near 

 the Cceur d'Alene Mountains with a mining prospector 

 named Pingree ; both were originally from New Hamp- 

 shire. Late in November there came a heavy fall of snow, 

 deep enough to soon bring a deer to a standstill, although 

 not so deep as to hamper a moose's movement. The men 

 bound on their skees and started to the borders of a lake, 

 to kill some blacktail. In a thicket close to the lake's brink 

 they suddenly came across a bull moose ; a lean old fel- 

 low, still savage from the rut. Pingree, who was nearest, 

 fired at and wounded him ; whereupon he rushed straight 

 at the man, knocked him down before he could turn round 

 on his skees, and began to pound him with his terrible 

 forefeet. Summoned by his comrade's despairing cries, 

 Purvis rushed round the thickets, and shot the squealing, 

 trampling monster through the body, and immediately after 

 had to swing himself up a small tree to avoid its furious 

 rush. The moose did not turn after this charge, but kept 

 straight on, and was not seen again. The wounded man 

 was past all help, for his chest was beaten in, and he died in 

 a couple of hours. 



