34 BIG GAME OP NORTH AMERICA. 



sun had no power to darken the pale-green ferns, and the 

 wind never blew to tangle the slender fronds. The moist 

 ground was untracked, except by the cautious feet of the 

 wild creatures of the woods, and all was silent, as if no 

 echoes slumbered in those bowers. We spread our camp 

 on the soft, sweet floor of the green-canopied and tree- 

 studded home of the gods, and rested. Rich was the peace 

 of solitude for a night. 



In the morning we were longing for adventure, like rest- 

 less spirits in a new world, and went forth commissioned to 

 explore and to conquer the denizens of that Arcadian-like 

 land of summer loveliness. We tramped far, far through 

 an outstretched, unchanged expanse of forest, without sat- 

 isfactory results as to the finding of big game. There were 

 dozens of that species of grouse known as the fool hen, 

 with its staring red eyes and stupid habit of sitting like a 

 bronze image on limbs and logs, even within reach of our 

 hands. Thei'e were other wonders for the appreciative 

 Englishman to admire, but he was determined to see a live 

 Moose in its native haunts, and nothing less would satisfy 

 his longing. 



Finally, when he was separated from me about a quarter 

 of a mile, I heard his deep voice in tones of agitation. I 

 hastened to his aid, and found him standing with gun 

 presented, a model for an artist, demanding an answer to 

 his unintelligible ' ' What is it % " He was pointing into a 

 tangle of ferns near his feet, that was as dense as the rank 

 clover in a rich meadow. 



I, as with an echo, answered, ' ' What is it % " when by 

 his side I saw a crouching little animal, with glossy brown 

 coat, lying low- and still as a frightened fawn. We could 

 not at first determine what it was, but its innocent eyes 

 stayed our hands before we pulled the trigger. No, we 

 could not shoot the crouching, beautiful creature. 



"Ah," said the athletic foreign sportsman, "I will 

 capture the bloody thing ! " and handing his rifle to me, he 

 sprang upon it like a lion upon a lamb. A cry went up 

 and echoed through the trees, plaintive, like the voice of 



