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I had determined to have one more try for a cow moose, and next morning was just going off to hunt some lakes when we caught sight of an old cow standing on the opposite bank of the river about a half mile above us. We crossed and hurried up along the bank, but when we reached the bog where she had been standing she had disappeared. There was a lake not far from the river-bank, and we thought that she might have gone to it, for we felt sure we had not frightened her. As we reached the lake we saw her standing at the edge of the woods on the other side, half hidden by trees. I fired and missed, but as she turned to make off I broke her hindquarter. After going a little distance she circled back to the lake and went out to stand in the water. We portaged a canoe from the river and took some pictures before finishing the cow. At the point where she fell the banks of the lake were so steep that we had to give up the attempt to haul the carcass out. I therefore set to work to get the skin off where the cow lay in the water. It was a slow, cold task, but finally I finished and we set off down-stream, Wirre in one canoe and Willie and myself in the other. According to custom, the moose head was laid in the bow of our canoe, with the horns curving out on either side.

We had been in the woods for almost a month, and in that time we had seen glorious changes from summer to fall and fall to early winter, for the trees were leafless and bare. Robinson’s lines kept running through my head as we sped down-stream through the frosty autumn day:

“Come away! Come away! There’s frost along the marshes,
And a frozen wind that skims the shoal where it shakes the dead black water;
There’s a moan across the lowland, and a wailing through the woodland
Of a dirge that sings to send us back to the arms of those that love us.
There is nothing left but the ashes now where the crimson chills of autumn
Put off summer’s languor, with a touch that made us glad
For the glory that is gone from us, with a flight we cannot follow,
To the slopes of other valleys, and sounds of other shores.”


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