Indian always unhesitatingly awards the palm to the white man, and
sometimes even the Indian children and babies, when they get an
unadulterated whiff from a white man, will take such fright that it is
hard for their mothers to console them--a fact that has often made me
wonder what the poor little tots would do if they scented one of those
highly painted and perfumed "ladies" that parade up and down
Piccadilly, Fifth Avenue, or Yonge Street?

After following the trail for about fifteen minutes, we came to where
the moose had been lying down, and the hunter whispered:

"My son, I am glad I did not smoke, but I am sorry that we camped so
near." Then he added as he pointed to the impression of a moose's body
in the snow: "A moose seldom lies twice in the same place in the snow,
as the old bed would be frozen and hard as well as dirty."

But as we had not made much noise, nor cut any big wood to make a fire,
he was hopeful that our chances were still good; and at sunrise he
concluded that it was time we should leave our sled behind and begin to
track our quarry more cautiously. From then on there was to be no
talking--not even in a whisper. Soon we came upon yesterday's tracks,
then farther on we saw where the moose had circled before lying down
again for the night, with their eyes guarding their front while their
scent guarded their rear.

At last we came upon still fresher signs that told that the moose might
be within a hundred paces or less. At a signal from the old hunter I
imitated him by slipping off my snowshoes, and standing them upon end
in the snow, and Oo-koo-hoo leading the way, began to circle to our
right as a gentle wind was coming on our left. Now our progress was