SEPTEMBER, 1917 
FOREST AND STREAM 
395 
Slough, perhaps half a mile distant, Ed’s 
big, blatant, loud-mouthed 38 roared once! 
—twice!—three times ! 
The echoes of the shots bounded back 
and forth among the hills and then died 
into the vast silence. I waited for more 
shots, but none came—neither did my deer 
come out where I could get a crack at him 
and, after Ed had shot up things like that, 
I knew there was no fat chance of him 
showing up. In disgust I rose and started 
toward the Cedar Slough. As I approached 
it I whistled—so that Ed would know I had 
Jevver get a whiff of a bull moose bone- 
head stewin’? Well, I hope you never 
do! 
only two legs instead of four! He hal¬ 
looed and I struck straight through for 
him a little to my right. I tell you I wasn’t 
prepared for the sight that greeted me 
when I arrived: 
THERE WAS ED STANDING OVER 
AS HANDSOME A BULL MOOSE AS 
EVER WORE HORNS! 
The big fellow was warm, but he was 
down and dead with three shots through 
his vitals. Ed was measuring his head with 
a tape and the antlers, perfectly matched 
and broadly palmated, spread just 57 inches 
strong! Here was this Ed guy who had 
been in camp less than two hours with a 
prize bull moose to his credit. Can you 
beat it! Gee, some simps is lucky! 
Together we went to work with our hunt¬ 
ing knives getting off the head. Ed was 
fussier’n an old woman about the skinning 
of the neck and the severing of the verte¬ 
brae from the skull. He was so afraid I 
would cut through the pelt that I finally 
says, “If you think you’re the only party 
in this neck of woods who knows how to 
skin a moose go ahead and skin ’im!” Then 
I filled my pipe and sat back. “No offense, 
Newt,” says Ed, “but I gotta be awful 
careful about this job. You see I’m gonna 
taxidermatize this head right here in camp, 
so that when I take it home it’ll be all set 
up and ready to hang in my den.” 
By the time Ed got the head off the dark¬ 
ness was so black and thick in that cedar 
slough that we had to elbow our way 
through it until we struck the trail which 
we couldn’t see, but felt with our feet until 
it brought us to the camp door. Ed was 
about all in luggin’ the head and since he 
wouldn’t let me “spell” him on the job 
(for fear I’d let it fall and bust off a horn! 
Imagine!!) he was jolly well welcome to 
the work. 
I kicked up a feed for us both and soon 
as Ed got up from the table he whetted up 
his knives and went to work skinnin’ out 
the head. He was still at work on it at 
midnight while, as I sat before the fire and 
dozed off, my pipe fell out of my mouth 
and spilled my lap full of sparks which 
like to have set me on fire! Then I said 
“Good-night!” and bunked up. Ed was 
still at work on that head when my head 
hit the pillow and I was gone to happy 
dreamland. 
He was still at work on it when I opened 
my lamps at dawn next morning! I ask’d 
him if he’d been dissecting the durn’d old 
head all night. Said he had dozed off a 
couple of times, but mostly had. Gee, it 
.must be a fierce job to peel the pelt off a 
bull moose head! 
Tim, our guide, blew in about 9 A. M., 
and he was glummer’n a clam. Came to 
find out his wife had taken down with 
chills and fever and things and good old 
Tim was broodin’ about her. We both told 
him his place was by her side and to beat 
it back, but he said he’d stick around for 
a couple of days anyhow. But Tim didn’t 
stick that long—about 3 that afternoon 
Tim’s boy Lucius steamed into camp with 
word that the wife was worse and that the 
family “Doc” had christened it pneumonia. 
Then we told Tim that we could get along 
in camp as cosy as a couple of lumber¬ 
jacks—that we could both cook like a brace 
of chefs and that (since this was not our 
first trip here) we knew the lay of the land 
and could steer ourselves into the woods 
and back to camp without a guide. Well, 
Tim and Lucius hit the back trail for home 
and again Ed and I were left alone. 
Soon as they were gone Ed jumped back 
on his taxidermy job. Then I grab’d up 
my gun and registering disgust on my face 
says I: “If you think I’m gonna set here 
in camp and twiddle my thumbs while I 
watch you taxidermatizin’ a old moose 
head, you’re erroneous, Edward. I came 
up here to hunt, not to keep you company 
around the camfire and if you think—“ 
“Well,” butts in Ed, “there ain’t no strings 
to you, is there? Go ahead and hunt your¬ 
self into a state of exhaustion for all I 
care—I can sure get along without you— 
you ain’t doin’ me enny more good than a 
old settin’ hen ennyhow. Beat it!” And 
thereupon I bote it. 
When I got back that night at dusk Ed 
had that big clumsy moose skull and jaw¬ 
bone in an old iron kettle he had picked 
It was almost pathetic to hear Ed brag 
about that head he had mounted 
up somewhere and the head was “bilin’ 
and stewin’, away on the stove as merry as 
you please with the horns reachin’ blamed 
near to the ceilin’! And the aroma that 
filled the cabin was something fierce!—I 
sat there all evening holding my nose in 
one hand and my pipe in the other and I 
couldn’t tell whether I was smokin’ moose- 
head stew or not! But Ed said the “bilin’ 
was necessary to hurry along the job. 
Thus one day passed after another. I 
spent most of my time in the woods while 
Ed fussed with that fool head. All I heard 
was taxidermy—all I saw was taxidermy— 
all I smelled was taxidermy! I got so 
sick of taxidermy that I wouldn’t have 
eaten a stuffed veal! At last, however, it 
was finished—that is, Ed had done all he 
could to it for the present, although he ex¬ 
plained that the healing hand of Time 
would have to get in its work to harden 
the job. 
For several days I hadn’t seen the head 
and for this I was glad—Ed had been work- 
I have had some surprises, but none to 
compare with that lucivee coming to 
life! 
ing on it outside of camp and had not in¬ 
vited me to inspect it—said he wanted to 
wait until it was all finished before he 
showed it to me. So one afternoon when 
I sauntered into camp he gave me a for¬ 
mal invitation to step out and gaze on his 
wonderful creation. Proudly he led me to 
a point beside the tote road perhaps 5 ° 
yards from the cabin where he had set up 
the head in the shade so that the wind 
would get at it and dry it out. He had 
propped it up in what he called a lifelike 
posture just as if the animal had poked its 
head out of the brush before crossing the 
tote-road. 
“There!” says Ed with a wave of his 
hand as we stood before the head. “Ain’t 
that beautiful!” 
I didn’t say anything for a minute. What 
was there to say? Just betwixt you an’ 
me, that was positively the rottenest job 
of taxidermy I ever saw wished on a bull 
moose head! His jaw was whopperty- 
jawed—as if he’d thrown it out of joint 
chewin’ his cud. One ear was cocked for¬ 
ward and the other one back. There was 
excelsior stickin’ out of his ears and cot- 
ton-battin’ leakin’ from his nose. His 
horns wasn’t on straight and he wore an 
expression on his face so that you couldn’t 
tell whether he was goiti’ to laff, or cry! 
Also, there was somethin’ wrong with his 
glass-eyes—one was glarin’ Northwest and 
t’other was cross-eyed! 
“Well,” says Ed impatiently, “wot do you 
think of it?” I knew I’d have to step care¬ 
ful, or I’d make him fightin’ mad. “Wot 
do I think of it?” repeats I, slantin’ my . 
head on one side and sightin’ at it with one 
eye shut. “To tell you the truth, Ed, I’d 
rather not say what I think of it.” “There 
you go,” snaps Ed, bristlin’ up; “never 
willin’ to give a feller credit for a good 
job. I’d hate to be as small and jealous 
as you are. We can’t all be taxidermists, 
Newt, but them of us who ain’t, can at 
least give proper credit to them who is. 
Right there is where Eddie spilled the 
beans. When he said the above he went 
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