CHAPTER XI 

 ONCE MORE A BAD MISS 



"O Negligence, fit. for a fool to fall by." 



HENRY VIII. 



WE packed our belongings and made an early start 

 for Moccasin Lake Camp. The reason for our change 

 of base was because in two days more our return 

 journey to what is called civilization would have to be 

 commenced, and this day's tramp would put us a " day's 

 march nearer home." It's the saddest part of a hunt- 

 ing vacation when you have to turn back on your 

 tracks. 



When you are on the forward move, the mind 

 is always ready for new sights, new sounds, and new 

 chances for game. When the spirits are high, and 

 there's an eager and alert look in the eye, your step is 

 light and springy. You peer into this cove and into 

 that one, always expecting a surprise. You scan with 

 rapid glances the valley that unfolds itself before you 

 for the first time. You look at all the soft spots in the 

 road for telltale tracks. You crouch around the big 

 rock, and hold your breath while you look. That high 

 bunch of swale grass may conceal a deer. 



Is that a rock away at the far end of the lake, or is 

 it yes, it is it's a moose feeding. 



