54 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 14, 1911. 
windows. The guide told us a bear always pro¬ 
vides two openings before he goes in. Inside 
we found things torn up, the table cloth pulled 
off, dishes broken, a sack of flour ripped open, 
pickles and a can of lard upset. We spent the 
balance of the day resting while the guides 
cleaned up the camp and made spruce beds. 
Late in the afternoon we went with Gilbert 
a short distance to a moose wallow, but saw 
nothing. The next morning after a breakfast 
of trout and partridge we started out in earnest, 
all going to a dead water on Forty-mile Creek. 
We saw plenty of signs, but no game except 
some mallard ducks, one of which I killed with 
the pistol, which shoots equal to a rifle and 
which I would not think of being without. I 
prefer it to a rifle of the same caliber on ac¬ 
count of its being so light and handy. For the 
afternoon we paired off, Gilbert and Albert, my 
partner, going to Spruce Pond, Alphonse and 
myself to a series of four lakes on Forty-mile 
Creek. This arrangement of guides we kept 
for the rest of the hunt. Alphonse and I had 
gone to two of the lakes without seeing any 
game, but on approaching the third he suddenly 
stopped and holding up his hand, whispered 
that he heard something in the water. Quick¬ 
ening our pace we went cautiously ahead and I 
too heard the noise in the water. Presently we 
were close enough to see over the alder bushes 
what seemed to be immense horns bobbing 
about in an excited way, but I could not see 
anything else. I stepped back just a little, 
hoping to see the body through a little opening 
in the alders, when Alphonse pulled me for¬ 
ward and pointed out the back of the animal, 
saying “It’s a caribou, shoot him.” I only had 
an instant to carry out his suggestion and tak¬ 
ing a snap shot, did what most anyone would 
do under the same circumstances, shot over 
him and missed. Before I could shoot again, 
even with the automatic rifle, he was out of 
sight in the bushes. I ran up on a mound in 
front of me and saw the caribou going straight 
away. Up went the rifle for another snap shot 
and this time I saw the whole body and scored, 
hitting him a little back of the fore shoulders. 
Another bullet struck about two inches from 
the first and down he went into the water; 
whereupon I called out to the guide, “I’ve got 
him down,” and ran through the brush to the 
water’s edge where I would have an unob¬ 
structed view in case the bull should get up 
again. He was threshing around trying to get 
up, but couldn’t, and on the advice of the guide 
I fired another shot and he went under the 
water with the exception of the antlers. 
Didn’t I feel fine about then? A caribou is 
a fine game animal, to be sure. Alphonse 
waited until he was sure the caribou was dead, 
then waded into the water, caught him by the 
antlers and pulled him out far enough for me 
to get hold, and together we pulled and rolled 
him out on the bank, where we took off the 
head and hide, cut up the meat, which he put 
out in the water on a rock, together with the 
hide. The head Alphonse took with him, and 
we went on to the fourth lake where we stayed 
for some time without seeing anything. Start¬ 
ing back we approached the opposite end of the 
lake where I had killed the caribou, when sud¬ 
denly Alphonse dropped to his knees, at the 
same time beckoning me to do the same, and 
then telling me to come cautiously to where he 
was. There on the other side of the lake I 
saw my first moose, a cow, standing in the 
edge of the alders with head well up, the late 
sun striking her full in the face, making a 
picture never to be erased from my memorv. 
She stood there as if posing for a picture, then 
disappeared so quickly and quietly as to make 
no noise whatever. When we walked into camp 
late in the evening, Gilbert and Albert opened 
their eyes pretty big, and Gilbert remarked “I 
would rather have that caribou head than have 
a moose.” 
They had heard our shots and Gilbert had 
remarked. They have killed whatever they were 
shooting at, for I can tell by the way the shots 
were fired: two close together, then two more, 
then after a little while one more, which means 
coup de grace. It certainly was encouraging 
to have a nice caribou head in camp, and we 
sat up late that night and talked of caribou 
hunts in which the guides had taken part in 
previous seasons. 
Alphonse and I went the same route on 
Forty-mile Creek next day, so that we could 
bring in some of the meat and the hide on our 
return to camp that evening. We went to all 
of the four lakes, waiting at each until we con¬ 
cluded no game was about that particular lake. 
On our return trip, when near the second lake 
coming in, where I had killed the caribou, we 
again heard something in the water, and the 
wind being favorable, we had no difficulty in 
getting to a point where to our disappointment 
we could see that it was a cow moose. How¬ 
ever, I had a splendid opportunity to see her 
feeding, and watched for about two hours, 
thinking a bull might come in but none came. 
It was interesting to see her put head, ears and 
all, under the water and get something which 
she seemed to enjoy very much; and to see the 
change that came over her when we finally 
showed ourselves. She was within thirty yards 
of us, but being unable to get our scent, could 
not make us out. Finally she stalked off in a 
most majestic manner until she was about mid¬ 
way of the lake, when she turned completely 
around and faced us. Going on to the edge 
of the lake she again turned facing us, then 
she seemed to become alarmed in earnest and 
lost no time getting into the bushes, where she 
gave vent to what the guide called the cry of 
alarm, and was probably intended for her calf 
in the woods to know there was danger near. 
At the last lake coming in, about one hour 
before sunset, it being still, the guide called 
from time to time but got no response. The 
weather was too warm for the moose to mate, 
so he said. To hear the guide call for the first 
time, and listen to the sound as it grew and 
swelled, roared and bellowed, rolling on and 
on over the hills and valleys, was a revelation. 
At camp we found Albert and Gilbert. They 
had seen several deer and moose, but none with 
good enough head to shoot. I began to feel 
like the blood of Samson was running in my 
veins. Did I have an appetite? Ask the others 
now the trout, partridges, caribou steak and 
baked beans disappeared. My partner said, “If 
your wife could see you she would certainly 
be alarmed for fear you would make yourself 
ill eating. I replied that what I came for was 
something that would make me eat. 
Getting away early, Alphonse and I followed 
the route taken by Albert and Gilbert on the 
previous day, and they ours. We saw plenty 
of signs but no game. Just after we determined 
to return to camp we walked into a bunch of 
partridges, and out of eight shots with the 
little pistol I bagged eight birds, which was 
enough for one day. After lunch we got the 
tackle and went for trout below the deadwater 
on Forty-mile Creek. We didn’t expect to see 
any moose as the wind was almost straight 
down the way we were going, but of course 
the rifle as well as the rod went along. We 
walked about three and a half miles to the 
canoe landing, got into a canoe and rowed 
down stream, trying for trout in likely places 
as we went, getting several rises from small 
trout, but hooking none of them. Near the 
deadwater I noticed several rocks sticking out 
above the water about four hundred yards 
ahead, then what I took to be a rock proved 
to be a splendid head and antlers. 
“Alphonse,” I whispered, “look at the big 
bull moose!” The bull did not seem to see 
us and put his head under to feed again, which 
gave the guide the opportunity he wanted. He 
made for a little island about a hundred yards 
from where we first saw the moose, and the 
way he made that canoe go through the water 
was marvelous. In less time than it takes to 
tell it we were in the shallow water at the isl¬ 
and and I jumped out of the canoe and ran for 
the island in order to have a steady footing 
from which to shoot should the moose discover 
us and start off. 
Twice the moose raised his head to chew 
and breathe without getting our scent, but at 
the third time the wind must have gone from 
us straight to him, for almost immediately after 
his head came up he pointed his nose directly 
toward us and held it there for several mo¬ 
ments, then turned and started straight away. 
I had never before shot game at anything like 
the distance and had only shot my rifle at a 
distance of one hundred yards, while the moose 
was about 300 yards distant, I determined not 
to raise the rear sight but would depend on 
taking a coarse front sight. The guide told me 
he could not give me any advice relating to 
adjusting the sights, but told me to begin 
shooting and I could get the range by noticing 
where the bullets hit, but I told him I would 
wait until there was more of the body exposed 
for a target before I started to fire, and gave 
him two extra clips to hold in readiness. He 
said the moose was getting further and further 
away all the time, but I waited until I could see 
the entire body. Then I carefully got the sights 
in line, figuring that if I shot low the ball would 
be deflected and lose only little energy from 
striking the water, and would very likely hit 
the moose. This it did, striking the water and 
hitting the moose in the hip. I then took a 
little coarser sight and fired again, hitting him 
just a little to the right of the base of the tail, 
which knocked him down with a tremendous 
splash, and the guide said “You have got him, 
you’ve got him,” but the next second he was 
up and going as if nothing had happened to 
him, turning his left side to me at about an 
angle of forty-five degrees. I aimed back of 
the fore shoulder and fired, striking him square¬ 
ly back of the shoulder, with no apparent ef¬ 
fect save to make him turn around with his 
right side toward me, at the same time getting 
on a high place in the bed of the stream. 
