36 A SPORTING PARADISE 



buffalo-bag, shivering and yawning. My com- 

 panion still slumbered heavily. White frost 

 covered whatever had been left outside. The 

 cold was sharp, and I hurriedly slipped a pair of 

 stout moccasins on my feet, drew on my gloves 

 and cap, and started through the ghostly woods 

 for the meadow where we had seen the moose 

 sign. The tufts of grass were stiff with frost ; 

 black ice skimmed the edges and quiet places of 

 the little brook. 



" I walked slowly, though it was difficult not 

 to make a noise of cracking sticks or brushing 

 against trees in the gloom : but the forest was 

 so open that it favoured me. When I reached 

 the edge of the beaver-meadow it was light 

 enough to shoot, though the front sight still 

 glimmered indistinctly. Streaks of cold red showed 

 that the sun would soon rise. 



u Before leaving the shelter of the last spruces 

 I halted to listen ; and almost immediately heard 

 a curious splashing sound from the middle of 

 the meadow, where the brook broadened into 

 small willow-bordered pools. I knew at once 

 that a moose was in one of these pools, wading 

 about and pulling up the water-lilies by seizing 

 their slippery stems in his lips, plunging his 



