ned over the pond. For some time he
fed greedily, moving slowly along the shore. At times his great head was
wholly submerged as his long, flexible upper lip sought out the
succulent roots and buds; again it was raised, while from the gently
moving jaws the water dripped with a musical plash into the pond.

Suddenly the wilderness was startled from its calm by the appearance of
a dazzling finger of light which crept across the pond and came to rest
upon the dark bulk of the moose at his feeding. The great beast raised
his head to stare into the strange, blinding radiance. He could not see
the dark form crouched in the boat behind the light, nor the long
sinister object leveled upon him. He could only stare, fascinated, an
easy mark for the hunter behind the jack-light.

From the forest in the rear of the moose came a faint sound. It was only
the crackling of a twig, yet it served to break the spell under which
the beast stood, for in the wilderness the snap of a twig is one of the
most ominous of sounds. The animal wheeled sharply just as the hunter
pulled the trigger. There was the sharp crack of a rifle which woke the
echoes and startled the wilderness into an added alertness, while the
ball sped across the water, barely missing the form of the moose. Before
the disappointed hunter could again pull the trigger the great beast had
reached the shore with a bound and was crashing through the forest, over
windfalls and through thickets with the speed of an express train.
Lesser wilderness folk watched his flight with startled eyes, keeping
well out of his path. Even the fierce Canada lynx knew better than to
attack that living whirlwind, though his pale eyes gleamed maliciously
and his claws dug deep into the bark as the moose passed directly
beneath the branch on which the big cat crouched. The fleeing animal did
not see him.

That night, far from the pond, the moose made his bed on a wooded knoll,
lying, as is the custom of his kind, with his back to the wind. Should
danger approach from the rear his keen nose would give him warning,
while eyes and ears would protect him from anything approaching against
the wind.

With the first light of day he was on his feet, enjoying a breakfast of
birch twigs, obtained by breasting down a sapling and holding it beneath
his body while he fed upon the tender tips. His meal finished, he backed
off, leaving the sapling to spring up again unharmed. His fear of the
night before had v