850 
FOREST AND STREAM 
On One or Two Rare Occasions, Wind and Weather Being Right, the Greenhorn Had a Chance to See Living Moose in Their Real Environment— 
His Education at This Time Had Not Proceeded Further Than the Camera Stage. 
The permanency of Bill’s conversion seemed 
assured when, the following morning, he struck 
into the trail through the pines at the rear of 
camp, behind the efficient guide who, with a busi¬ 
nesslike air loped along at a gait that kept Bill so 
well occupied in noting the inequalities of the 
way as represented by boulders, snags and soft 
spots, that whole herds of deer but a few rods 
distant would have escaped his notice. The ne¬ 
cromancy by means of which the guide was able 
entirely to ignore the movements of his feet and 
devote his whole attention to eager observation 
of the forest on either hand, was a subject to 
which Bill gave considerable study, especially 
when, the toe of his shoe having come in con¬ 
tact with the free end of a stick apparently hinged 
in the soil at the other extremity, the foot to 
which the shoe belonged swiftly began to de¬ 
scribe an arc of a circle coincident with that de¬ 
scribed by the free end of the hinged stick, that 
clung to the shoe with irresistible pertinacity. A 
movement of this character obviously elevated the 
leg after the manner of a pump handle; but Bill, 
not being secured at the base by bolts or clamps 
after the manner of the pump itself, uniformly 
succumbed to the law of gravitation and with 
much vehemence and precision sprawled at full 
length on the ground. The omnipresence of 
such hinged sticks was also a source of consider¬ 
able wonder on the part of Bill, his attention 
having been forcibly directed to not less than six 
in the course of a single halfday. 
Turning sharply from the trail a half mile 
from camp, the guide whom Bill familiarly ad¬ 
dressed as Steve, stopped and solicitiously eyed 
his charge who, if the truth were known, was 
glad of the opportunity afforded to relieve his 
heaving lungs. 
“It’s likely,” said Steve, “I’ll see deer to-day 
that you, bein’ behind, won’t git sight of. If d 
think there ain’t no chance o’ your gittin’ a shot, 
I won’t bother to say nothin’. If I see one on the 
move goin’ where I think you can git a crack at it, 
I’ll let you know fast enough; an’ o course, if I 
see one standin’ still I’ll beckon to you. For a 
ways you’d better keep pretty dost behind me. 
When we git to where the woods is more open, 
you can work off to one side and maybe git 
a shot at one that I couldn’t see. After we’ve 
been out a few times so you know the woods 
some, you can go ahead yourself.” 
To this explanation of the modus operandi to 
be observed Bill gravely listened, but with some 
misgivings as to his ability to discharge the im¬ 
plied obligations resting on him. Nevertheless, 
he resolved to maintain the courage necessary for 
sighting and discharging his rifle in the proper 
direction if game were sighted; and if a deer 
were thereby brought to ground, to make the best 
of an accident he was not yet entirely prepared to 
consider a fortunate one. In the frame of mind 
indicated by this resolution, he resumed his place at 
the rear of Steve and worked up considerable in¬ 
terest in observing that alert and active individual, 
whose every movement disclosed the experienced 
hunter. The confidence exhibited in his alert¬ 
ness and implied in his initial explanations to his 
charge did not, however, appear warranted by the 
outcome of the morning’s efforts; for the noon 
hour found the two seated about the lunch fire 
five miles from camp, without having had occa¬ 
sion to interrupt the continuity of their progress 
through the unbroken forest, in actual practice of 
the guide’s instructions. 
“Well, I guess I’ll git the fire goin’,” remarked 
Steven, when the spot selected for lunching was 
reached. “I always like tea for lunch, an’ don’t 
feel as though all the trimmins’ was in if I don’t 
git it. Besides, when it’s as late in the season as 
this, a fire feels pretty good when you ain’t 
movin’ ’round. I’ve built a fire many a time when 
I was out alone and didn’t have no tea to bile; 
jest for the company of it. Some folks wouldn’t 
think there was company in a fire; but there is 
for me.” 
With those who roam the woods, there is no 
necessity of arguing as to the genuiness of 
Steve’s sentiment. Company in a fire! Of course 
there is. If an analysis of the properties of burn¬ 
ing wood per se to supply the place of things 
sentient be asked, the narrator hereof has no 
knowledge of the psychological operations of the 
mind that make it receptive to such a sensation, 
from which to draw material for reply. The 
proof is rather of the empirical order, and with 
that doubters must be satisfied. If accumulative 
evidence of this kind be wanted, Mr. Doubter, put 
the question to any man who, having wandered 
miles from camp with rod, axe or gun, has sat 
down alone in the solitude of great woods to sat¬ 
isfy the gnawings of an appetite that began to 
clamor long before its usual time of need; and if 
the evidence be not forthcoming the narrator is 
but a poor observer and his views are not worth 
consideration. 
For a half hour after lunch the hunters smoked 
and talked, loafing around the embers of the 
dying fire. Then the guide re-packed the sack 
he carried at his back; brought water from a 
nearby brook to quench the last, live coals; 
announced the course for the afternoon and 
