With Gun P Rod in Canada 



Joe unsheathed his knife for the purpose of bleeding the 

 moose. As the carcass lay on its left side, Joe stood at 

 its back, and taking it by one horn, tipped the head up 

 and made the necessary incision in the throat. As the 

 knife entered, the big animal began to thrash, and twisting 

 on to its back, one of its hind-feet just missed Joe's head ! 

 As Joe dodged back the moose jumped to its feet and 

 started to walk away. I was gaping at this performance 

 in a sort of trance with the flask in one hand and rifle 

 in the other. 



" Give it to him !" said Joe. 



" I won't do it ! He can't go far, and I'll have to shoot 

 right into the meat." 



The moose was now trotting. 



" He'll get away," exclaimed Joe, excitedly. 



I expected to see it stumble and fall any second, so 

 stood there calmly screwing on the cap of my flask. It 

 didn't look possible for a moose that had been knocked 

 down and then had its throat cut to run very far. Since 

 Joe was urging me to fire, and the moose was now about 

 a hundred yards off and running straight away from the 

 lake and our canoe, I decided it was better to shoot, 

 even at the risk of spoiling a hind-quarter, than it was to 

 have to pack the meat a long distance; so, with much 

 over-confidence, I raised my rifle, fired, and missed. 

 The beast disappeared behind some bushes. We followed. 

 First it went over and through a lot of down timber, 

 leaving bunches of hair on logs fully five feet from the 

 ground. It hardly bled at all, which puzzled both Joe 

 and me. Then it jogged over rocky ground, leaving 

 no perceptible track. It took us an hour and a half to 

 again pick up its spoor in the soft ground on the opposite 

 side of this rocky area. Then it ran through a wet bog, 

 where we floundered up to our knees in mud. All this 

 while it was fleeing straight away from the landing where 



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