It was a cold, bleak day late in November, and a gale swept across the Northern slope of Spotted Spruce mountain. Except for the noise made by the wind, the occasional tap of a woodpecker, the lonesome "yank, yank," of an industrious nuthatch, or the discordant call of some Canada jay, silence lay unbroken over the vast forest.

High up the mountain, exposed to the chilling blasts, a lone bull moose was peeling the bark from saplings, pausing at times to listen, or to gaze at the surroundings, thus repeatedly convincing himself that nothing threatened his safety. He moved slowly and cautiously along paths well beaten in the snow, making no noise, and it was apparent that he was familiar with the range.

Suddenly both large ears were cocked back, his jaws ceased munching and he listened intently. Then he swung his huge head around, trained his ears in the new direction, and stood as if carved from granite. His nostrils quivered as he inhaled the air, seeking in it the taint of approaching danger; his small, dark eyes eagerly scanned the downward slope and searched among the trees for signs of the author of the sound which had reached him; his ears showed by their rigidity how intently they listened, and his whole bearing was of wary alertness. Then he turned and with noiseless tread retreated until sheltered behind a mass of tree tops felled by some bygone storm. There he waited, watching and listening. A dark form could soon be scen laboring up the slope, and he who was hidden by the blowdown, recognizing another of his kind, advanced to greet him.

"Hello, Bud," the newcomer saluted in moose language, "I got to thinking about you and this old time resort, so I came up to see you. Alone, aren't you? I thought so by the sign I noticed when I first struck your feeding trails. Nice lonesome place up here, isn't it? Pretty hard to beat this locality! Perhaps you think it strange I should seek you out after the drubbing you gave me early in the fall, but I've forgiven you. It was either you or I, and the abler won. There's more snow in the air and I shouldn't be surprised if a big storm were brewing. If it should be, and the snow should get deep, you'll see that old fellow who has been loafing around the swamp down by Spectacle pond getting up here as soon as his weak legs will let him."

"You're mistaken there," replied Bud, "you'll never lay eyes on him again."

"Why not?" the other asked. "Has he left this part of the country?"

By

"Yes," continued Bud; "he has departed by the 30-30 route, and his troubles are over. I saw the old chap when I was on my way up here several weeks ago and urged him to join me, but he would not heed my arguments and advice. I had been up in sight of the Kibby camps and had seen smoke arising from them. that I knew a party of hunters was expected there, and told the old fellow that if they came he would surely be found, with results probably fatal to him. This year his antlers grew in freak style. One was small and the other looked more like a cow's crumpled horn than the headpiece of a veteran bull moose. He was sensitive about it and afraid the others would impose on him. He had fared badly during the mating season, and the many defeats he received then had taken away his courage. He insisted on staying by himself, and paid for his folly with his life."

"You were captured," inquired the newcomer, "weren't you, when you were a youngster? Got stuck in the mud and were dragged out by men?"

"Yes; was a prisoner many days, and learned much about our enemy which has been of value to me since. They make, with considerable ceremony, rules to govern their conduct toward us at certain seasons, and then some of them deliberately violate those rules. They call the rules 'laws' and impose severe penalties for their infringement. When I was in captivity I hcard it said that there was always close time on cow and calf moose, yet when I had been released and was searching for my mother, whom I didn't find for several days, I came across evidence of how the lust for blood in some men's breasts overcomes their respect for all laws.

"I had searched for Mother in the direction she was going when I had last seen her, and my hunt had carried me to Dead river. I went down the bank looking for some place where others had crossed, for I had learned to keep out of water where there was no sign that other animals had entered it. While going down the river I came to the body of a cow moose, lying at the edge of the water where it fell. She had evidently been drinking when shot either from a canoe or the opposite bank. Just conceive, if you can, what instincts the man who did that must have! He had been afraid even to approach close to his victim, as the wet

trails in and out, and searched carefully. It seemed impossible they should be so dense as to expect to find me there after the commotion they had made in coming. Suddenly it occurred to me that they expected to find me gone, and were looking for sign in the snow to determine at what point I had left the yard. I dreaded to move lest the breaking crust should warn them of my whereabouts, which might possibly otherwise remain hidden from them. I knew that should they happen on the point where I had started into the snow, there would be no mistaking so plain a trail, and as they seemed to hunt carefully I decided it was time to move.

"I went as fast as possible, yet making no more noise than necessary. That my judgment was good in leaving when I did was soon confirmed by a victorious shout, 'as one who had chanced on my trail summoned the others to his side. I heard their answering cries, and knew that all would soon be hot on my track. Ceasing all attempts to go quietly, I put my whole energy into speed. It was late, and if I could escape them until dark, I might give them the slip altogether. My course still was downward, although the slope was less stecp, but at every jump I went in clear to my belly, and the loose snow under foot was but a poor foundation from which to make the succeeding spring. My progress had been so noisy that I had heard nothing of my pursuers, and after getting well down into the valley I paused to rest. My muscles were not so hard as they had been earlier in the season and I was trembling with fatigue. I had been at rest but a few minutes when I heard the men approaching and learned with consternation that those from whom I had often easily run away were now fleeter than I. Near at hand was a dense cedar thicket; into that I went; turned at bay, and awaited what the future held in store for me.

"The men soon came up, and I learned that there were 3. Each wore a bag pack on his back; one carried an axe; while another had one of those death-dealing metal tubes in his hand. They could see me, but as the man with the tube made no attempt to point it at me, I concluded, and rightly, too, as it proved, that my life was not the object of their search. They tried in a number of ways to make me leave the shelter of the cedars and go into more open woods. If there had been some decent footing, I should have gone out, and in a way the man with the tube wouldn't have appreciated unless he had got his work in quickly. I recognized him as Andrew Douglass, whom I had seen when I was a captive. He was the Nestor of the woodsmen in that section and the supreme authority on game. He suggested,

to one whom he called Joe, to go in near me, and pointed out a tree which could be felled to hit me and force me to move. Joe replied that he didn't want any bull moose dancing on his snow shoes, and refused. Andrew sneered with disgust and said that were he 10 years younger he would do it without fear. They didn't attempt the tree method, but threw snowballs and pieces of limbs at me. I was in a rage, but refused to be drawn into a charge. They continued to harass me until sunset, when they departed, going hurriedly down the valley, much to my relief.

"That night a misty drizzle set in and I started carefully back toward the mountain. I went slowly, not having recovered from the day's unwonted worry, and had accomplished only a small part of the distance when day broke. My first daylight meal was not complete when my tormentors were heard again coming on my trail. I realized that with the crust still weaker than on the previous day it would be impossible to cape them and no thicket being at hand in which to hide I resolved to allow them to do their worst. Only the man called Joe came near, although I pretended to be undisturbed and continued browsing. He had one of those leather covered black boxes such as was once before aimed at me, only his was on 3 legs and stood by itself. I knew this process was harmless and continued eating. Joe covered his head with his coat, stuck his face into the back of the box a minute, put something thin in that part of the contrivance, and then clicked it at me.

"Having done this he called the others and when they had come up he directed Andrew to get in front of me and be inIcluded in the performance. This Andrew did, but when he raised that tube until I was looking right into the black hole in the center, my mane raised and I was seriously tempted to jump for him. Joe put his head in the box and directed Andrew to get up closer to me. This he accomplished slowly and without lowering his weapon.

"Don't you come for me, you old cuss,' he said, 'or I'll put a pill in you that will not digest well. How's this, Joe, am I nigh enough?'

"No,' Joe replied. 'Get up nearer, Andrew; he's tame, and if he does come you can dodge.'

"Consarn him! I don't like being too sociable with him. He might get on my corns.'

"They finished their business with the box, but seemed anxious lest the light rain which was falling should interfere with the success of their venture. Before going, Andrew pleaded to be allowed just to nick one of my ears with a bullet so he would

know me if we should ever meet again, but the third man, who seemed the leader, although saying and doing little, objected strenuously to this. He said:

"No Andrew, I know you too well. You would be likely to shoot too low, and do something you would always regret. You know that at King and Bartlett we have prided ourselves on upholding the game laws, and to-day is no time to begin doing differently. Perhaps it will clear by

to-morrow, and if it should we will return and give Mr. Moose another sitting.'

"They soon went away, but so did the snow. That thaw was the beginning of the breaking up of winter. The next day the crust was soft and mushy, soon all the lowlands were afloat, and it was many weeks before I was again disturbed by man.

"What do you say to our having a lunch and then taking a nap? There's some excellent tender moosewood over this way, let's go and strip a little."

They were seated round the fireplace, on a rainy afternoon,

Talking of the hunting season that was coming very soon,

When the door was opened softly, and a 'well known form appeared, 'Twas the Captain, so they called him; one that all of them revered.

He was given warmest greeting, for they loved this hunter well

For his quiet, kindly manner and the stories he could tell;

But this evening he was silent when they pressed him for a tale,

And the more observing 'mong them noticed that his face was pale.

Then one ventured the suggestion that "Perhaps his traps was stole," And another, "Had some loafer swiped his new cane fishing pole?"

Or had some one 'bused his Rover, run him off to hunt awhile?" Thus the jokes and lively banter, but the hunter did not smile.

They regretted soon their jesting, for he raised his head and spoke; And they saw 'twas with an effort, for his voice was strained, and broke. "Boys," he sadly said, "I've shot him! Shot my good, old, faithful Rove!" Now his tears were softly falling, though to check them hard he strove.

"And I tell you, boys, I shook so I could hardly hold my gun,

For to shoot my faithful Rover was the hardest work I've done.

"I have had Rove since a puppy, and I knew what he would do;

He has been my stanch companion, ever trusty, fond and true.

"In the stormiest winter weather, though he might be tired and lame, He has never once deserted; he was always just the same.

"Never in the years I've had him has he left and gone home first;

Often have we lunched together, at the same stream quenched our thirst. "But at last age crept upon him, and he grew dull, stiff, and lame; And though I still took him hunting, he could scarcely see the game;

"So I thought 'twere surely better that his sufferings should cease,

And that from his growing weakness he should find a quick release. "Tears? Ah, yes! I couldn't stay them, for I felt a crushing grief; Though when he was dead-poor Rover-I could only feel relief.

"And I wonder when the angels come, my spirit home to send,

If they'll find me as my dog was, faithful even to the end?"