Page:Hunting and trapping stories; a book for boys (IA huntingtrappings00pric).pdf/75

 A moose hunt had been agreed upon. There were only four in the party; a hunter, a boy, and two backwoods Indians. Before sunrise in the morning the four had all their goods packed in a couple of canoes, and were off down stream to the moose-grounds. It was early in in the spring and in places the snow still lay deep. The wind was biting cold robbing the sun of its warmth. At sundown camp was pitched near the moose-ground, and after a hot supper the men were ready to turn in.

Any one who enters the great forest for the first time,—places where man seldom goes—is struck with the deathly stillness. A sense of loneliness creeps over the mind, for there is no hum of insects, no song of birds, not even the sighing of the breeze breaks the peaceful calm in the deep endless forest. There is not a hut or cabin, or human being within a long day's travel.

Breakfast was served piping hot, goods were packed securely, and by sunrise the hunt had begun. The Indians dived straight into the woods, crossing lightly and swiftly between the trees. The snow began to deepen, snow-shoes were put on and the traveling was then easier. Suddenly the party came across some huge foot-prints. The Indians stopped at once and smiled grimly— here was the game.

The moose must have been an immense fellow judging by his footprints, which traveled hither and thither, showing that the creature had been walking about. The chase now became swift and stern. The Indians kept up a killing pace and never once did they halt, or even slacken until the boy caught his toe in a hidden rock and nearly turned a somersault. All hands had to wait for a few minutes while the boy took the snow out of his eyes and got his second wind. In starting off again the party came upon two sets of tracks, showing that there were a pair of moose ahead of them, and that they were moving swiftly. By-and-by a running stream was crossed and here the tracks ended. There were no foot-prints on the opposite bank and the boy was sure that this was the end of the moose hunt. The Indians separated at once, one going up and the other going down the stream. In a few minutes the upstream Indian found the trail and signalled to the other to follow.

The boy was beginning to find out that hunting in the Northern woods was hard enough work. The tiny icicles one the branches hurt his eyes until he looked as though he had been crying and his heart thumped against its ribs as if it would break.

After about a mile of straight running the tracks divided. Here a halt