22 RECREATION 
promontories mentioned. Sure enough, in 
a short time the fox came rushing right 
past the spot Walter had mentioned. See- 
ing the canoe and its occupants, he changed 
his course and skipped off into the forest. 
Walter watched a second, and. then taking 
the paddle, quietly brought the canoe a 
couple of hundred yards down stream. 
Then he stopped and pointed at an opening 
in the woods: 
“Ve'll see him pass there in a /minute, 
Doctor, if he ain’t gone already.” In less 
than thirty seconds the fox appeared 
among the trees, sauntering leisurely in 
total ignorance that human beings were 
so near. 
Thomas Martindale, who I verily believe 
would rather roam the woods than eat, 
laughs heartily over a French-Canadian 
cook he had in Maine last summer. He had 
been calling moose at the lower end of a 
lake on a moonlight night until eleven 
o’clock and one of his fellow sportsmen was 
at the opposite end, calling also. The 
tents were pitched about half-way up the 
lake, close to the water, and here the cook 
was busy with his pots and pans while the 
hunters were away. Getting no answer, 
Mr. Martindale and his guide began to 
paddle slowly back. When near the camp, 
a great commotion reached their ears. 
Not many yards away a moose plunged 
into the stream and started to swim across. 
The cook, somewhere in the darkness of 
the trees, was shouting: 
‘Sacre, mon dieu, you d—n fool! I no 
mak ze call!” 
The poor fellow had little breath left in 
him when the sportsman and his guide 
asked him to get into the canoe that they 
might paddle him to camp. On the way 
he told them his tale of woe: 
‘““You see, ze man at ze top of ze lake he 
keep making call and you keep making call, 
and ze beeg moose he grunt and run around 
crazy like, and not know where to go, so 
he rush right into camp and, I no lie Mr. 
Martindale, he snort fire out of his nose 
and stamp around and it scare me so I 
could not run, so I throw up my hands 
and curse to him. And then he came at 
me and I manage to run down to ze bank 
where you just see him plunge into ze 
water, and I thought for sure my last day 
was come. I so glad you kill him, Mon- 
steur, for he was a wicked fellow with fire 
in ze eye and in ze nose.” 
This same sportsman, Martindale, tells 
me a queer tale told him by an Indian guide 
he had canoeing with him on the Peribonca 
some years ago. It was well on in the fall, 
a snowstorm was coming on and they de- 
termined to stop ‘on their journey about 4 
o’clock in the afternoon and make camp 

Mii 
A PARTY OF TYPICAL NEW BRUNSWICK GUIDES—HIRAM MANDERVILLE AT THE EXTREME RIGHT 

