The nature of the ground where we were was such that we could make better time on foot than with horses. Accordingly we left our mounts, and ran back a distance of about a mile to intercept the moose. I was on the spot some time before the next best, and as the big buck was coming straight for where I was in hiding, I fully expected to have the first shot; but while he was still more than a hundred yards away, and fairly rushing through the water by the force of his swimming power, and even as I stood behind a tree admiring the noble fellow, suddenly there came a shot from down the shore and the moose fell over almost without a struggle, being fairly hit just under the butt of his big antler. I jumped out on the beach, and looking in the direction of the report saw my friend Jacob quietly loading his old flint-lock, a significant smile overspreading his face. I shouted to him, "If you did take my shot you made a very good one;" to which he answered, "It was enough for you to have left us in the race," and thus we were mutually appeased and complimented. But meanwhile Mark had divested himself of his clothing and was swimming out to the moose, which he soon towed into the shallow water, where we all took hold and pulled the immense carcase up the bank. While Jacob and Mark skinned and cut him up I went back for our horses. Bringing them up, we packed most of the meat back to the Mission, and late in the evening again started after our party of hunters, whom we came up with away down Battle River. Holding an open-air service and stationing our guards, we went to sleep, and with the first dawn of day were astir again. Holding a short morning service, we very soon were jogging down the winding saddle-path which was but the adoption and endorsation by man of the buffalo-path of the preceding ages. In the course of years I have travelled thousands of miles on buffalo-paths, and often I have wondered at and admired the instinctive knowledge of engineering skill manifested in the selection of ground and route made by those wandering herds of wild cattle. If one was in doubt as to a crossing let him follow the path of a buffalo. Gladly have I often taken to these in the winter time, when the snow was deep. Taking off my snow-shoes, I have run behind my dog-train on the packed trail made by the sharp hoofs of the migrating buffalo. But alas! as I write these paths are about all that we have left to remind us that a short time since these vast plains fairly trembled to the roar and tread of these wonderful herds of nature's stock.