116 GILPIN ON THE MAMMALIA OF NOVA SCOTIA. 



bread, slung on his back in a bag, with a tin pint mug hanging to 

 it. Perhaps a two hours walk through snow-paths, brings them to 

 where they suspect a moose yard. Each man now laces on his 

 snow-shoes, before dangling at his back, and the ardour of the 

 dogs can scarce be restrained. Some scent the snow, others 

 sitting on their haunches with their noses high in the air, 

 snuff every suspected breeze, others again standing completely 

 upright upon their hind legs. An old bitch will now give a cry, 

 and start straight as an arrow through the underbrush, and disap- 

 pear. She is followed by the whole, and soon the forest rings 

 merrily with their tongues, as they have struck the track, where 

 some moose perhaps an hour ago has passed, leaving deep holes in 

 the snow. Every one pushes to the front. The forest is one 

 vast white sheet spread before you, losing itself among the tree 

 boles. If the dogs are good, or the moose a young cow, they may 

 rush upon her, and hold at bay, till the hunters come up. But if 

 she ever gets the start of them, they never reach her again, till 

 twenty or thirty miles chase has brought her strength to the last 

 gasp. But this one is a strong and cunning quarry. He has got 

 well away from the dogs, their cries sound fainter in the distance ; 

 and the hunters recovering from their spurt, settle themselves to a 

 steady space. There is twenty or more miles before them ; night 

 will fall upon their tracks. The dogs now fall in by twos and 

 threes, and follow in the back tracks. The cunning deer keeps 

 now in the soft green woods and fir plantations ; the crust is less 

 sharp to his legs. But the going is heavy for the men. Two 

 hours, may be, he baffles them before they push him out of his 

 cover. He tries a swamp now and the whole party comes to a 

 stand. His tracks are lost beside a running brook. He has 

 bounded from the banks into the stream, leaving not a sign. The 

 party breaks into pairs, some hunting up stream, some down 

 stream, till a loud shout soon calls all to where he has sprung from 

 the bed of the stream upon the banks again. The white snow is 

 soiled by the muddy water dripping from his flanks, and the 

 hunters view with pleasure the blood stains from his bleeding hoofs. 

 Yet he is off with renewed vigour, and leads over hard wood hills, 

 down precipitous banks, and coming to one of those forest lakes 



