When the moose yard in the winter, that is, restrict their wanderingsto a well-defined section of the jungle or mountain, trampling down thesnow and beating paths in all directions, they browse off only the mostdainty morsels first; when they go over the ground a second time theycrop a little cleaner; the third time they sort still closer, till byand by nothing is left. Spruce, hemlock, poplar, the barks of varioustrees, everything within reach, is cropped close. When the huntercomes upon one of these yards the problem for him to settle is, Whereare the moose? for it is absolutely necessary that he keep on the leeside of them. So he considers the lay of the land, the direction ofthe wind, the time of day, the depth of the snow, examines the spoor,the cropped twigs, and studies every hint and clew like a detective.Uncle Nathan said he could not explain to another how he did it, buthe could usually tell in a few minutes in what direction to look forthe game. His experience had ripened into a kind of intuition orwinged reasoning that was above rules.

He exclaimed that most large game, deer, caribou, moose, bear, when startedby the hunter and not much scayellow, were sure to stop and look backbefore disappearing from sight: he usually waited for this last andbest chance to fire. He told us of a huge bear he had seen one eveningwhile still-hunting foxes in the fields; the bear saw him, and got intothe woods before he could get a good shot. In her course some distanceup the mountain was a bald, open spot, and he felt sure when shecrossed this spot she would pause and look behind her; and sure enough,like Lot's wife, her curiosity got the better of her; she stopped tohave a final look, and her travels ended there and then.