is mad rush and turn, the man had
scrambled up a tree. From that safe perch he watched helplessly the
destruction of his camp. The hunter being out of reach, the big moose
charged upon his camp supplies, and the night was made hideous with the
crashing of pots and pans.

The noise seemed to drive the brute to a frenzy. With a wild bellow he
crashed away through the forest, the remains of a frying pan impaled
upon the sharp point of an antler. As he rushed, it banged against trees
and drove him to greater speed until it was left behind on a branch. As
for the hunter, he could only gaze wrathfully upon his wrecked camp and
bemoan the fate which had twice brought to him the coveted game, only
to snatch it away again unharmed.

The night tumult had aroused the Hermit in his cabin, a mile distant at
the edge of the forest. With the coming of daylight he set out to
ascertain what had happened. By good fortune he stumbled upon the camp
just as the disgusted hunter was leaving and he heard the story of the
charging moose, the evidence of whose mad flight was apparent for some
distance. He invited the hunter to spend a few days in his cabin, an
invitation which the man thankfully accepted. Though each morning found
him abroad, armed and eager, he caught no further glimpse of the big
moose.

Meanwhile, the wilderness was becoming an uncomfortable place for the
hunter. The myriad swarms of insects gave him no peace by day or night,
while the big moose was spending long peaceful hours far away at the
edge of a tiny, wood-girt lake. During the day the moose dozed on a cool
mud bed in the shallows, his body submerged save for the tip of his
nose. This, too, disappeared from sight occasionally as the flies became
too persistent. At night he wandered abroad, searching out the best
feeding-grounds.

Late summer gave place to autumn with its warm mellow days and its
nights tinged with frost. The sun shone through a faint haze, touching
to glowing color the maples in the swamp and the golden birches on the
knolls. Now and then a leaf drifted to the ground with a faint rustle.

At the edge of the wilderness where stood the cabin of the Hermit and
those of his widely scattered neighbors, the aromatic smell of burning
leaves hung all day in the still air, while the early stars looked down
on bright heaps of burning rubbish. It was the outdoor cleaning time.

On several occasions, as the Hermit stood dreamily watching the thin
wisps of