A WOUNDED MOOSE 55 



pond. The goose delighted in firing a rifle that burned 

 one hundred grains of powder behind a fifty-calibre 

 bullet, and enjoyed himself hugely in loading up his 

 miniature cannon and banging away at red squirrels, 

 partridges and rabbits. He would leave his camp in 

 the morning, walk to the pond, and make the woods 

 ring for miles around with the noise of his rifle. 



The unwritten law of Maine in regard to the shoot- 

 ing-rights on ponds or small lakes is that the sports- 

 man who first puts a canoe upon them is safe from 

 intrusion on the part of any other sportsman. Acting 

 upon this hint we determined to paddle up a stream 

 as far as we could, then carry our canoe to the pond 

 and take possession, thus shutting out our noisy 

 friend. So at four o'clock one morning our strongest 

 guide started with his canoe on his back, carried it for 

 a distance of two miles, placed it on the pond and re- 

 turned to camp for breakfast. Then after our morn- 

 ing meal I started with another guide and walked to 

 the pond, loaded only with a tin cup, an axe and a 

 rifle. We reached the pond at about half-past seven 

 and got into the canoe, but at the very first dip of our 

 paddle we heard the boom of the 50-100 rifle fired by 

 our goose who was cracking away at the red squirrels 

 on the other side of the pond. This was not a prom- 

 ising state of affairs for us big game, as a rule don't 

 like cannonading, nor a neighborhood that indulges in 

 it. A few minutes after the noise of the shot and its 



