2T6 
May, 1920- 
FOREST AND STREAM 
A DAY in the open air, an evening around the campfire, then how 
enticing are one’s blankets — especially if these are big, soft, 
comfortable, ALL-WOOL 
Kenwood Outdoor Comfort 
Camping Blankets or Sleeping Bags 
The camping blankets are 68x84", Forest Green in color, soft nap on both 
sides, thick, yet only 4 pounds in weight — a big advantage when packing duffle. 
The sleeping bags are 84" long by 68" in circumference. Of the same fine 
quality wool and finish. Weight. 4^3 pounds. Both blankets and bags are ideal 
protection against wind and damp. Write for booklet, mentioning name of 
dealer. 
Kenwood Mills, Department F-l, Albany, New York 
Everything for Auto Trips 
Tents, beds, pleasure-equipment of great 
’variety and best quality at ultimate price saving 
Send lor our free catalog and road maps 
BROOKS TENT ““AWNING COMPANY 
1653 Arapahoe Street 
UENVER.COLORADO 
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MOHAWK : : NEW 
light, he swerved, shook his magnificent 
head, leaped, and was gone. . . . Gone 
without my pulling the trigger! 
Didn’t I tell you to shoot anyway ? 
Didn’t I tell you never to mind the light? 
But here is another point. It takes some 
time to wind up to the next film. I figured 
in my excitement that I wouldn’t have 
time to get more than one shot so I 
waited for the only possible chance when 
he passed into the light spot, and I waited 
too long; he never did come into the light, 
so I missed my first bull at twenty feet. 
Measure twenty feet. You can squeeze 
an orange seed that far. At twenty feet 
you can see the flies on a moose’s nose; 
you can see every individual hair; you 
can almost reach out a paddle and touch 
him That’s how near I was to that huge 
bull, and my mate was just behind me, 
trembling with eagerness and excitement. 
And I missed him. So I sat down in the 
trail and howled a silent HOWL. 
But then, I missed him only with the 
camera. I have him in my brain, pictured 
till the day I die. I had never seen a 
wild moose bull so near, — up to that 
time. There came a day when I had one 
by the horns, alive and kicking, and un- 
hurt, — but of that later. This one got 
away. 
The ground around that old camp was 
literally trodden into game paths a foot 
deep in the black loam. The side posts 
and lintels of that old camp, particularly 
the horse sheds, were dented and scarred 
with the horn marks of these mighty- 
moose bulls which had gone in through 
the narrow doors to gnaw the logs for 
salt. 
There were patches of hair where they 
had rubbed themselves against the de- 
lightfully scratchy logs. There were the 
hoof marks of many deer, the great pad 
prints of many moose, clear cut, new, and 
with the dew claw marking now a big 
cow, or the more rounded toe spoor show- 
ing a bull. And there were many, oh, 
many new trails. Also Johnnie Porcu- 
pine was abundantly in evidence. 
So we sat down on a log and waited 
and thought things over. Then we tried 
to stalk the bull, for he had passed to- 
ward the river, here less than two hun- 
dred yards away. We could hear the 
song of its ripples, we could hear a 
stealthy footfall, but we could not even 
so much as catch another glimpse of him. 
So we painfully made our way through 
deadfall and thicket, over logs and holes 
till we sat at the brink of a back-set wait- 
ing for the canoes to come up Then they 
took us aboard. 
Five minutes later we had all that 
flapper family cornered under the bank 
just by the big pool, the last pool on 
Tobique before you get to the lake. 
Slowly we crept up on them, camera 
focussed and ready. Only waiting till 
the frenzied jump of the bunched flappers 
carried them out into the light. Then we 
pulled trigger, gave them one parting 
howl to scare them on their way, and 
went on to the headwaters, Old Nictau 
lake. The end of our long pole. 
I T did not take us long to work the 
canoes up over the logs at the lake 
head. Then came an odd sense of 
peace and openness, and also depression. 
