Isf' 



MRS. BEMIS AND HER MOOSE. 



Spinney was sent to the home camp for 

 supplies, one day. It happened, very fortu- 

 nately, for my wife and I hunted together 

 the night her moose was called. At sun- 

 down we started for the dead water, taking 

 blankets with us, for the night was cold. 

 My wife was to do the shooting, and I was 

 to take a hand only if necessary. Wrapped 

 in a blanket, she sat in the bow. The guide 

 fastened the jack to the stick at her left, 

 and she practiced at opening the shutter 

 until she was able to do it noiselessly. 



Although we had called 4 nights, without 

 success, an indefinable something seemed 

 to whisper this would be our great night. 

 The guide picked out a likely spot, pushed 

 the bow of the canoe on the edge of the 

 bog, facing up wind, where he could get 

 away easily, took a drink of water to clear 

 his throat, and picked up his moose horn. 



How that 1st call sounded on the still 

 night air! It fairly startled me. The notes 

 went out over the marsh and were echoed 

 back to us from the surrounding hills. Any 

 moose within 5 miles surely heard it. Fred 

 gave the second call and then the last. We 

 waited and listened, our ears strained to 

 catch the slightest sound. Calling at inter- 

 vals of 20 minutes, an hour passed and dark- 

 ness settled. No answer, not a sound, save 

 those created in imagination, and the occa- 

 sional splash of beavers as they came out 

 around us. 



Fred thought he heard a deer in the 

 water, and paddled out to investigate. We 

 had gone only a short distance when we 

 were startled by a terrific crash behind us. 



Our bull was coming across the marsh, 

 grunting at every step. I could hear the 

 ring of his horns as they struck the trees, 

 and the splashing as he stepped into 

 water. Never had I heard anything like it. 



As the canoe moved nearer, every grunt 

 sounded louder, until it seemed as if I could 

 almost touch him. My wife tremblingly 

 whispered she was " too frightened to 

 shoot," and begged the guide not to go 

 nearer. I whispered a word of encourage- 

 ment I did not feel. 



When it is considered she was 8 feet 

 nearer than I, and 18 nearer than the guide, 

 and being rapidly pushed toward a snorting 

 bull moose she could not see, it is no won- 

 der she trembled. The old fellow stopped 

 grunting and seemed to be going away. It 

 was a critical moment. Fred picked up his 

 horn, gave a little coaxing call, at which the 

 bull came on again, grunting. 



" Open the jack," Fred ordered. At the 

 words my wife recovered her nerve. She 

 carefully laid her rifle on her lap and noise- 

 lessly opened the jack. 



" I see his eyes," she whispered, 



" Shoot! Shoot! " I cried. She raised 

 her rifle, aimed between his eyes and then 

 said, aloud, in- her excitement, " That's too 

 high." She calmly lowered her rifle, raised 

 it again, aiming at his shoulder, which she 

 could see dimly outlined, and fired. Throw- 

 ing out the shell, she fired again, then 3 

 times in quick succession in the direction 

 of the noise made by the retreating moose. 



I did not think for a moment she had hit 

 him; and when I heard him going away, I 



