MOOSE FOR DINNER. 



GEO. II. ROOT. 



October n, 1898, I started with T. A. 

 Strait, an old time hunter, trapper and 

 guide, on a 30 days' hunt for big game. 

 Thad is a dead shot, an expert with the 

 rod, and an ideal hunting companion. I 

 was intensely proud as I climbed on our 

 wagon, behind 4 ponies, and rolled away 

 to the North, where in the distance shone 

 the snowy peaks of the Rockies. 



Before we had gone 5 miles Mr. Strait 

 had bargained with me to take it day about 

 rustling camp meat and it fell to my lot 

 to get game for supper. I got it. Just 

 before we went into camp I caught sight 

 of 2 lean, old sage cocks, and when they 

 raised I dropped them both. Mr. Strait 

 objected strongly to that kind of diet, and 

 said many times before we started home, 

 that he wished he had agreed to furnish 

 all the camp meat himself. 



Nothing broke the monotony of our 

 desert drive until we reached Cottonwood 

 creek, where he saw thousands of ante- 

 lope. 



By October 226. we were settled in our 

 permanent camp. One morning we saw a 

 band of elk coming down the mountain 

 North of the camp. They were about 200 

 yards away, and in less time than it takes 

 to tell it, each of us had one down. The re- 

 mainder of the band had turned into the 

 timber and were out of sisrht. We had shot 

 them from our very door, and onlv 125 yards 

 away. When we saw no more were com- 

 ing we finished our breakfast. It took us 

 till noon to take care of our game. We 

 spent the remainder of the day in the moun- 

 tains and saw many fresh elk signs. At 

 night a bunch of 10 or 12 came within 

 half a mile of our camp. 



The next day, as I started to climb the 

 long mountain slope, to get out of the can- 

 yon, I could see, away to the Northwest, 

 a snow storm coming, and, by the time I 

 had reached the top it was upon me. From 

 the top of the mountain I plunged directly 

 into the dense forest, out of the storm, 

 and suddenly found myself on a high preci- 

 pice overlooking the North branch of Horse 

 creek, thence down the steep mountain side, 

 to the lead of the creek. I followed the 

 creek about a mile and turned into the 

 forest, where I came upon a trapper's de- 

 serted cabin, buried away in the thickest 

 of the forest. The door, which was made 

 of elk skin, stood ajar. I pushed it wide 

 open with the end of my rifle, and a wild 

 commotion followed. I thought I had 

 disturbed a meeting of wildcats, or a family 

 of bears. It was too late to retreat honor- 

 ably, so I ventured a peep within. It was 



only wood rats, hurrying and scurrying 

 they knew not where, only to hide. Inside 

 the hut, and strewn on the dirt floor, were 

 skeletons of bear paws, so closely resemb- 

 ling human bones, that the sight of them 

 made me shudder. On the floor and nailed 

 on the walls were skull bones of all the 

 animals that belong to the mountain. I did 

 not stay long in that gruesome place. 



October 30th I made my record. Mr. 

 Strait had gone out early to look for elk, 

 while I stayed in camp to do our week's 

 washing. I had my laundry spread on the 

 sage brush, and had started dinner, when 

 I stepped to the tent door and saw a moose 

 standing not over 100 yards away. At 

 first I hardly knew what it was. I do not 

 know how long we stood looking at each 

 other when I remembered I had a gun in 

 the tent. In the few seconds it took me 

 to step back and pick uo my gun, the moose 

 had started to climb the mountain. When 

 I returned, gun in hand, ready for action, 

 he had gone over 75 yards, at a swinging 

 trot, and was just entering a belt of tim- 

 ber. I fired, tumbling him in a heap. Of 

 course, it was a scratch, but I did not care. 

 I had the moose. 



Somehow I had no desire to rush up to 

 my moose, but went about fixing my dinner 

 for fully 20 minutes before I strated to 

 climb up to him. During that period I had 

 looked at him several times, but could not 

 see him move, and it puzzled me to know 

 why he did not struggle. When I started 

 to climb up to see how he was getting 

 along I took sounders on him. I was slip- 

 ping alonsr cautiously and was not more 

 than 40 yards from him when I stepped 

 on a dry brush. My blood chilled when 

 he jumped to his feet and began to look for 

 me ! He was bristling all over and gave a 

 snort that could have been heard a mile. 

 Thanks to the protection of a small pine tree 

 behind which I was standing, he could not 

 see me. While he was searching in the 

 direction of the sound he had heard, I let 

 him have it square in the face and down he 

 went again. That time I felt sure he was 

 down for good, but not so. I kept above 

 him, and behind the pine tree where I 

 could see him and wait for him to die. 

 It seemed he had no notion of dying, how- 

 ever. After waiting a while I threw a 

 small stick which struck him fairly on the 

 side and up he came. That time his at- 

 tention was riveted on the spot where I 

 had stepped on the brush, and I was in 

 the rear. Blood was streaming from his 

 nostrils, his long shaggy mane, or hair, 

 seemed all standing on end, and he looked, 



