40 BIG GAME OF NOKTH AMERICA. 



Not a Moose could I see; not a sound could I hear. 

 They had evidently scented me before I entered the head 

 of the gulch, and had silently stolen away. I found their 

 fresh trails; they had separated, two and three going 

 together in their flight. I estimated that not less than a 

 dozen or fourteen had been feeding, in the thicket and 

 on the frozen swamp when the alarm was given of my 

 approach. 



I singled out the new-made trail that indicated a flight 

 in the direction of camp, and started on a desperate run on 

 the down-grade. The Moose will, when chased in deep 

 snow, and especially if closely pressed, choose a course that 

 gives him the advantage of gravitation, if there is an incline 

 to be chosen. I shot through the trees at a reckless speed 

 for at least five miles, but never sighted a Moose. They 

 were breaking a new trail in the soft snow, and how they 

 . could cover a distance of five miles in so short a space of 

 time was a mystery to me. 



At the end of that straight run they turned up a ravine, 

 and made for the top of the mountain- again. These tac- 

 tics surprised me; but I soon observed that they were fenced 

 in by a wall of rocks to the left, and. the up-hill course was 

 the only means of escape from a pocket. From this I 

 reasoned that the quarry was hard-pressed, and I used my 

 pole with energy for a long, tiresome climb. I knew, then, 

 the game was far ahead of me, bat their course was toward 

 camp, with an assurance of a down-grade run. 



So steep was the incline, that the speed I made on my 

 snow-shoes was only limited by the fear of obstacles to be 

 encountered. I was reckless, and I indulged in a terrific run, 

 barely missing a crag here and a precipice there. Alas! I 

 did not miss every obstruction. The new-made road I was 

 keeping just below me, to the left, turned through a pro- 

 jecting ledge, at a sharp angle, in a narrow cut, and I 

 plunged over the wall. I shot out into the air, and. down, 

 down, with the momentary horror of a nightmare! My 

 speed hurled me into the soft snow, benumbed with fright, 

 but without a bruise. 



