As it would have taken too much time to recover it, we left the mangled body of the deer in the icy crevice into which it had fallen, and ascending to a point above the rapids, crossed the river, where the ice was strong. We then recovered the track, which we followed for the rest of the day, passing several small settlements in the woods, all of which had been carefully avoided by the Moose. In the evening we bivouacked as before, but this time in the neighbourhood of a solid tree. Blungle struck it all round with the axe to assure himself that it was not hollow, and expressed his satisfaction that it rung sound. Next morning we plunged deeper and deeper into the forest wilds. About mid-day, Blungle, whose patience was well nigh exhausted, began to be seriously offended at the non-appearance of our prey, and confidentially hinted to Perroque and myself that wild goose rhymed to wild Moose. But, at that moment, Baptiste who was in advance, was observed to fling his arms into the air, and then to direct our attention to a point a little to the right of us, where we caught the first sight of the object of pursuit. The Moose was at some distance from us, buried to the belly in snow, and scraping the green bark from a young tree. Being too far off to fire with effect, we glided silently towards him over the snow, concealing ourselves as much as possible by going from tree to tree. He was a full-grown animal, and, for some time, was not aware of our approach; but, as we came within doubtful shot of him, he looked anxiously around, exhibiting symptoms of agitation and alarm. “Bang at him,” said McQuaigh, “or we may lose our chance.” He had scarcely uttered the words, when our four rifles were simultaneously discharged. The Moose gave a tremendous bound and plunged through the snow, endeavouring to escape us. We made after him at once, reloading our rifles as we proceeded. When we came up to the spot occupied by him, it was evident that he had been seriously wounded, from the extent to which the snow was stained with blood. We soon observed that his efforts to escape became fainter and fainter, and, as he was staggering and about to fall, a ball from McQuaigh’s rifle took effect in his heart, and he sank in the snow. The Moose deer’s nose is considered a great dainty by both civilised man and savage. Blungle, although well provided in that facial department himself, was almost petrified at its size. “It looked,” he said, “as if the animal carried a small carpet-bag in front in which to keep his provender.” Having cut the nose off, we confided it to the care of Jean Baptiste. “Look out for blazes,” said McQuaigh, as we prepared to return.