MY WIFE'S MOOS/']. 



i i r 



which vvc placed our packs. My wife got 

 in with Spinney and started up the dead 

 water. Fred and I had 2 miles to go, 

 through the woods, to meet them at the up- 

 per end. 



Just as the sun was setting, we ap- 

 proached the water, at an opening in the 

 woods. A splash and the click of a reel 

 were heard, and then I saw my wife, very 

 much excited, her fly rod bent nearly 

 double, her reel running away from her, 

 while down stream there was a swirl and a 

 splash. She certainly had hold of some- 

 thing. The guide and I sat on a log and 

 watched the sport. 



It was her first big trout. Three times 

 she brought him to the canoe, not so bad, 

 for the water was filled with stumps, rocks, 

 and tree tops. The landing-net had been 

 forgotten, and the guide could not land 

 him. Each time he got away with a rush. 

 With my wife standing in a cranky canoe, 

 scolding her guide — he, poor fellow, having 

 his hands full to keep the canoe from up- 

 setting — it was sport indeed. The 4th time 

 she brought her trout up he laid over on 

 his side, and they took him in. 



Once more she made a cast, and had a 

 rise; a 2d cast and she hooked another. 

 Profiting by her experience with the 1st 

 trout, she soon landed this one. I got the 

 scales from the pack and weighed them. 

 The first weighed exactly 3, the other 2^4 

 pounds. 



They were the largest brook trout I had 

 ever seen. These, with the signs of big 

 game all around, made me feel we had in- 

 deed come to the right place. 



It was almost dark when we arrived at 

 camp. A more forlorn looking place I 

 never had seen. A cabin of rough logs hav- 

 ing 2 small windows, partly closed with 

 pieces of glass; flooring of round logs, with 

 spaces between; rough beds covered with 

 fir boughs; a board across 2 barrels for a 

 table; a barrel of flour and some salt pork, 

 the provisions. One good thing was a 

 stove, in which we soon had a fire. Then 

 with the lamp lighted, biscuits in the oven 

 and trout frying, our dismal quarters as- 

 sumed a more cheerful air. 



Our first morning in the wilderness was 

 warm and pleasant. A few yards away lay 

 Chandler lake, 3 miles long and one wide. 



Here was a 2d canoe, so it was decided 

 that nvy wife and Spinney should explore 

 the lake while Fred and I hunted along the 

 dead water. On the way to our canoe 3 

 deer were started, but they were too quick 

 for me. I saw their flags, then they were 

 gone; noiselessly, swiftly, like shadows. 

 By the time we were afloat I was pretty 

 well excited. I fully expected to meet a 

 whole menagerie at every step. It was a re- 

 markable morning. Fred said " everything 

 is coming our way." 



We paddled slowly down the stream; a 

 narrow strip of water 2 miles long, wind- 



ing in and out of a bi^ marsh. The forest 

 grew to the edge and game trails led to the 

 water. At a clear spot of several acres the 

 water was covered with lily-pads; and 

 many of the succulent roots had been pulled 

 up and partly eaten by moose. 



An hour passed; cautiously the boat was 

 paddled in and out through the marsh. I 

 sat in the bow with rifle across my knees; 

 ready. A blue heron rose and flapped slow- 

 ly away. Two ducks that we disturbed 

 rose with a splash. Each time I had a sud- 

 den chill, and thought of buck fever. 



"Deer; straight ahead!" Fred suddenly 

 whispered. Fully *4 of a mile away, I saw 

 my 1st deer, a black-eared doe. Then com- 

 menced an exciting time. The guide pad- 

 dled swiftly and noiselessly, nearer and 

 nearer. The deer grew suspicious, cocked 

 her ears, turned and looked at us. Fred 

 stopped paddling and I was almost afraid 

 to breathe. She was satisfied and began to 

 feed. The instant her head went down, 

 Fred began paddling Again and again 

 she looked up, and our actions were re- 

 peated. 



Finally I whispered to the guide to let 

 me shoot, but he would not. Nearer and 

 nearer until she threw up her head and was 

 off like a flash, disappearing behind a pro- 

 jecting point, and my opportunity was lost. 

 Slowly Fred worked the canoe around the 

 point. It was an exciting moment, for I 

 knew the instant the bow turned the point, 

 we should be in full view, and I must shoot 

 quickly or not at all. I did not see the 

 deer where I expected to, but farther back. 

 I saw her going, and fired. ' You've hit 

 her," my companion called out. We quick- 

 ly reached the shore. He found no blood, 

 but so many tracks he gave it up. " It was 

 a hard shot," he said, trying to let me down 

 easy. 



I was not satisfied, however, and wanted 

 to see for myself. Just as I, too, had given 

 it up, Fred called me, and there was my 1st 

 big game, dead, with a bullet hole through 

 the left shoulder. 



Starting back to camp, we had gone only 

 a short distance, when the guide whispered, 

 "There's your moose!" In a clearing at 

 the water's edge was a cow moose and 2 

 calves, feeding. To me, it was a wonderful 

 sight. The canoe was pushed behind some 

 alders, and I waited for the bull; but he did 

 not come. Soon the cow winded us and 

 moved off with her family. 



The days passed. We fished for trout, 

 and still hunted in the daytime, and called 

 for moose at night; but there was not an- 

 other morning equal to the first. I killed 

 my second deer, and altogether the luck 

 seemed to be with me. Though my wife 

 had to her credit the largest trout and a 

 number of grouse, her big game was one 

 hedgehog. She had seen a buck, but was 

 so paralyzed at the sight, he disappeared 

 before she could shoot. 



