Nov. 11, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
421 
answer! No, it cannot be! But, yes, it is! Twice have 
my ears caught the sound. Now my heart begins to 
jump. Who can pen the thoughts that rush like mad 
through the brain at such a moment? Itow will this end? 
Can I keep still and make no noise that will give him 
warning of his danger? My nostrils become inadequate 
for my breathing. I find that my mouth is open, my 
chest heaving and my heart thumping like a trip ham- 
mer. But I speak not a* word, nor does my guide. Listen! 
I have not heard him for some moments. Could I have 
been mistaken after all? I will call. Ah! there he is 
again. All doubt now vanishes. The moose is coming. 
I shall certainly see him, at any rate. 
Yes, nearer and nearer he comes. Hear him grunt! 
Hear the antlers ring as they strike the trees. Oh, this is 
too good ! How unerring have been his instincts. It seems 
to me that I can see him as he rushes down toward the 
lake in a straight line for the spot where we lie in our 
canoe snug up to shore under the overhanging bushes. 
And still on he comes. And yet not one syllable has 
passed between Peter and myself; not the faintest sus- 
picion of a sound has either of us made. Once more the 
moose ii still, and for one instant doubt and fear enter 
my mind. I know that he is very near us now, probably 
not more than 300ft. away, but the dense growth of 
alders along the shore of tbe lake makes it impossible to 
see him in the gathering darkness. "Were it daylight," 
say I to myself, "I might see him." Aud then I think, 
"What if he should see us, or smell us?" Thank heaven, 
there is absolutely no wind, but that doubt and fear will 
not down. I am afraid to call for fear he will discover 
the trick. And so I sit 
and watch and wait. 
Peter has kept the canoe 
close to the shore, and 
we are pretty well hidden 
by the bushes. 
My excitement is all 
gone, lungs performing 
their functions in a per- 
fectly natural manner 
now. Doubt has taken 
the place of every other 
feeling. I am afraid he 
is suspicious and is going 
to give us the slip. He 
has not made a sound for 
several moments. He is 
still; so are we. But 
great Scott! Hear that! 
He suddenly gives one 
unearthly grunt, and at 
the same moment I see 
the broad shovels of his 
antlers above the bushes, 
nut ;JU0tt. away. I feel 
the blood rush to my 
face. Instinctively my 
finger seeks the trigger 
of my rifle, and my left 
hand closes with a tighter 
grip upon the barrel, but 
I cannot shoot yet, I can 
see nothing but those 
antlers. And I still sit 
and wait and watch 
them. Tbe moose is 
straight ahead of me. 
and I begin to think I 
had better estimate for 
his body and fire. One 
fatal sound now and all 
is lost. I am sure he is 
suspicious or he would 
step into the water. He 
is wary and is listening. 
Just now I feel that the 
stern of the canoe is slowly swinging outward. I recall 
the conversation with Peter, and I interpret it to mean 
that he too, thinks I had better fire, and that he is swing- 
ing the canoe around to make it as easy for me as possible. 
This decides me, and I raise the rifle deliberately to my 
shoulder. There is still sufficient light to see both sights 
plainly, and, guided by the antlers, which are all I can 
see, I aim for what I think will be his left shoulder, and 
press the trigger. The echo of my piece is not repeated 
before I have pumped in another cartridge and have Bent 
another bullet speeding after the first. 
As the smoke cleared from in front of me I caught 
sight of the head and antlers some 20ft. to the left of 
where he had stood when I first fired, and without a 
moment's hesitation I fired a third shot. This time he 
gave a quick jump and disappeared in the bushes. With 
a few strokes of the paddle Peter sent the canoe flying 
across the little bay in which we were to the spot where 
he had disappeared. As the boat touched the shore we 
both leaped upon the bank and entered the woods, but 
only darkness confronted us. we could not see nor hear 
anything of the moose. Peter started into the thick 
underbrush without a word and I followed him as best I 
could, but darkness had now made walking very difficult. 
At every few steps he would stop and peer into the gloom 
ahead, and listen intently, but we saw nothing and heard 
not a sound. Finally I whispered to Peter: "Do you think 
I hit him?" 
"Of course you did," said Peter, in the most assuring 
tone, "didn't you see him jump?" 
"Well, what shall we do?" 
"Wait here a minute; I'll go in a little further and see 
if I can see anything." And he disappeared for a minute 
or two into the now thoroughly darkened woods. He 
soon returned, however, and a whispered discussion 
ended in the conclusion that if I had killed him he was 
safe. If I had severely wounded him we could certainly 
trail him in the morning, and if I had missed him alto- 
gether it was useless to attempt to follow him that night. 
This being settled, we went back to our canoe and rapidly 
padrlled to camp, where we were soon joined by my com- 
panion and Crawford, who eagerly inquired, "What 
luck?" As an illustration of the clearness of the atmos- 
phere upon the night of which I write, and. the distance 
sound will travel across these lakes, it is worth while re- 
cording that although my friend and myself were separ- 
ated by the entire length of the lake and nearly the 
length of the thoroughfare, my three shots had been very 
distinctly heard by him, although the distance was surely 
five and perhaps sis or seven miles. 
You may be sure there was much discussion in camp 
that night before we retired as to the chances of my 
securing my moose; all of the details of the calling and 
shooting were gone over, explained and commented upon, 
and I think that all agreed that my chances were good. 
But as for myself I must say that I was full of doubt, and 
I am free to confess that my sleep during the night was 
not of the soundest. The moose was on my mind and 
for a long time the thoughts of him and the excitement 
of calling him down banished sleep. As I lay upon my 
bed of fragrant fir boughs it seemed to me that I was 
back upon that quiet little bay sitting in my canoe and 
again listening for that echo-like answer. That I was 
again waiting and watching to get a shot at the wary 
game. In fancy's realm I was already tracking him in 
the early morning. Peter and I were back at the spot 
where I had last seen the moose. I could fancy how 
cautiously we would follow the trail. All that my ex- 
perience in woodcraft had taught me, all that my guides 
had ever told me, and all that I had ever read of trailing 
and "still-hunting" passed through my mind. How that 
silence, absolute silence, when trailing, is the first con- 
sideration. The smallest details all came to my mind as 
I lay there trying to forget myself in sleep, how that in 
stepping into or out of a canoe you must make no noise. 
When you step in the canoe you must put your foot 
squarely in the center of the boat, toe toward the bow, 
the weight of the body perpendicularly over the foot in 
the boat, and then she settles squarely into the water 
without tipping or swaying, and no noise. In stepping 
out, again there is method if you wish silence — yes, and 
'He Rolled upon his Side— Dead." 
comfort and safety, too; rise upon the leg the last to leave 
the canoe, the foot again squarely in the center— step out 
sideways, but remember, the canoe, relieved of your 
weight, is going to follow your foot upward, so remove 
the foot slowly until this has happened, and the trick is 
done — no noise, no splash, and no wet feet. In picking 
up the rifle or paddle when in the canoe lift them gently 
and squarely, don't drag them toward you. Then the 
trail, all the little points to be observed seemed to marshall 
themselves through my mind as if to prompt me for the 
task when the day should dawn. Here, even more than 
in the canoe, must silence be observed. Carry nothing 
that will clang or rattle, the rifle in front of the body, 
not over the shoulder, where the barrel will strike trees 
or branches. Step over, not upon, twigs, stones, or dead 
sticks. Avoid brushing against bushes and branches, 
but take them in the hand as you approach and bend 
them out of the way, gently releasing them as you pass. 
And so my thoughts ran on. I thought of the shooting, 
and wondered if I had observed the rules I have always 
laid down for myself. You can't hit anything if you are 
over excited. You must see both sights upon your rifle, 
and you must settle your eye carefully into both before 
you press the trigger. You must hold steady, and you 
must pull with the finger, not with the arm, or the 
chances are you will pull the rifle off the mark. Had I 
shot carefully? It is true my shot had been under adverse 
circumstances. Had I hit the moose at all? These and a 
thousand other thoughts crowded through my mind ere 
slumber came, but I rather astonished myself, and I 
think both Peter and "Hiram" too, by being up and 
dressed at six minutes past three in the morning! Our 
good-natured chef, however, soon had the camp-fire going, 
and Peter and I tucked away a substantial breakfast of 
fried bacon, potatoes and coffee, and a few minutes after 
four saw us again heading for the scenes of the night 
previous. We were certainly on time, for when we ar- 
rived at the little bay it was not yet light enough to trail 
our game, but we landed at the spot where we had last 
seen the moose, and Peter soon began to scan the ground, 
and now I was to be shown my guide's wonderful acute- 
ness in following a trail. As we stepped from the canoe 
to the shore the dawn of day was just rendering distin- 
guishable Bmall objects upon the ground. We advanced 
a few paces into the woods, Peter with his eyes carefully 
scrutinizing the ground at each step, while I was eagerly 
looking ahead of him with the hope that I might see the 
moose. We had gone but a very few paces when he 
stooped, and, picking up a little piece of moss, looked at 
it a moment intently and then whispered, "Blood." I 
shook my head doubtingly, for I thought he was mis- 
taken, and that what he thought was blood was really 
maroon-colored moss, but at that moment my eyes fell 
upon the fallen trunk of a white birch tree over which 
the moose had stepped, and I could plainly see upon the 
bark a great red blood splotch as large as the crown of 
my hat, and to which I eagerly called Peter's attention. 
I was now convinced that he was right about the 
blood-stained moss; and from that instant, hope and con- 
fidence took possession of me, for I felt sure that the 
moose was too badly wounded to escape us, and in fact 
from the additional blood spots upon th« leaf strewn 
ground which we were now finding at almost every step, 
I began to think that it would be a dead moose when we 
found him. At every turn I expected now to come upon 
the animal, stretched there dead in the gray of the early 
morn. But it proved I had misjudged the wonderful 
tenacity of the moose, for we tracked him through the 
dense forest for a good two miles before we found the 
first signs of his having halted in his retreat, and it was 
over this exciting trail of two miles through what appeared 
to me at times an almost impenetrable thicket that Peter's 
wonderful powers as a tracker were so impressed upon 
my mind. Where the ground was soft, of course it was 
comparatively easy to track the moose, but often we 
would come out upon a wide area of open timber, upon 
firm ground, and this too covered with a thick carpet of 
freshly fallen leaves where the foot of the beast, to the 
unpracticed eye left not the slightest imprint. Even 
Peter's wonderfully trained sight would occasionally be 
at fault, but crouching 4 close to the ground he would 
describe a circle about 
the last distinguishable 
footprint and would soon 
again strike the trail. 
To me it was simply 
wonderful. At the end 
of about three miles we 
were rewarded by find- 
ing three imprints of the 
moose's body where he 
had lain down as many 
times in a comparatively 
small area, and confi- 
dence immediately be- 
came conviction that he 
was a badly wounded 
beast, that our "scent 
was hot" and that his 
capture was certain. And 
so it proved, for not 100 
yards from this spot we 
came upon him. Peter 
saw him first — halted 
and pointed straight 
ahead. My eye followed 
tbe direction of his finger, 
and there I saw the ob- 
ject of our search walk- 
ing quite rapidly from us, 
his huge body and antlers 
swaying to and fro as his 
enormously long legs car- 
ried him with great strides 
through the thickly grow- 
ing timber. I do not 
think he had heard us. 
Instantly I raised my 
rifle and fired two shots 
in rapid succession. One 
shot at least took effect, 
and at the sting of the 
bullet he threw down his 
head, and with an angry 
snort swung sharply 
around toward us; but as 
he turned I dropped upon 
my knee and a quick shot sent a bullet into his right side, 
in the region of his heart. He was about ten rods ahead 
of us and I could see the blood spurt from his side in a 
stream as thick as my finger, as with one mighty grunt 
he fell headlong toward us. One desperate struggle of 
his mighty frame to regain his feet, and he rolled upon 
his side — dead. 
The chase had been an exciting one, and the interest 
had never flagged since my ear caught his first answer to 
the call of my horn the night before. As I stood over his 
prostrate body I thought I could indeed say with Tartaran, 
"This is hunting!" 
The spot where the moose had fallen was very near the 
water's edge in another bay upon the same lake, and 
Peter immediately went back to bring the canoe around. 
I had put my camera in the canoe, and when Peter came 
back, accompanied by the others from camp, who had 
started out an hour or two later to learn of our success, 
some pictures were made, as well as some accurate meas- 
urements with the tape line. I copy from a piece of birch 
bark whereon a record was made upon the spot, the fol- 
lowing figures: 
Length, center butt of horn to round of rump 7ft. 
center butt of born to end of nose l£t. lOin. 
(Making length over all, 8ft, lOin.) 
Height, at shoulder (including hair) 7ft. 
at shoulder (against body) 6ft. 9in. 
point of hoof to knee .2ft. 2in. 
knee to top shoulder , , 4ft. 7in. 
at rump..... , 6ft. 4in. 
point of hoof to center of shank 2ft. Sin. 
shank to rump , 8ft. "in. 
Spread of antlers , 3ft B^in. 
Such was the animal and such the manner of his cap- 
ture. Another trophy is secured to become a lasting joy. 
For those who have hunted this finest of game, what I 
have attempted to describe may recall pleasant recollec- 
tions of like experiences of their own; and if what is 
written here shall be the means of inducing some amateur 
sportsman to try his hand at "big game," resulting in 
the pleasure to him that I have just experienced, I shall 
feel that in an humble way I have been of some benefit 
to my fellow man. L. C. Ivory. 
New Yohk, Oct. 12. 
Shooting' Positions. 
Wuen hunting deer or other large game, just how do 
you take aim, when you have opportunity for a deliber- 
ate shot? There is Lew Wilmot, a more than average 
shot; and he sits down and shoots with a knee rest. Teli 
us how you do it. 
