the phrase goes, on the southerly slope of Old
Saugamauk, with three cows and their calves of the previous spring
under his protection. This meant that, when the snow had grown too
deep to permit the little herd to roam at will, he had chosen a
sheltered area where the birch, poplar, and cherry, his favorite
forage, were abundant, and there had trodden out a maze of deep paths
which led to all the choicest browsing, and centred about a cluster of
ancient firs so thick as to afford covert from the fiercest storms.
The news was what the wise old woodsman had been waiting for. With
three of his men, a pair of horses, a logging-sled, axes, and an
unlimited supply of rope, he went to capture the King.

It was a clear, still morning, so cold that the great trees snapped
sharply under the grip of the bitter frost. The men went on snowshoes,
leaving the teams hitched in a thicket on the edge of a logging road
some three or four hundred yards from the "moose-yard." The sun
glittered keenly on the long white alleys which led this way and that
at random through the forest. The snow, undisturbed and accumulating
for months, was heaped in strange shapes over hidden bushes, stumps,
and rocks. The tread of the snowshoes made a furtive crunching sound
as it rhythmically broke the crisp surface.

Far off through the stillness the great moose, lying with the rest of
the herd in their shadowy covert, caught the ominous sound. He lurched
to his feet and stood listening, while the herd watched him anxiously,
awaiting his verdict as to whether that strange sound meant peril or
no.

For reasons which we have seen, the giant bull knew little of man, and
that little not of a nature to command any great respect.
Nevertheless, at this season of the year, his blood cool, his august
front shorn of its ornament and defence, he was seized with an
incomprehensible apprehension. After all, as he felt vaguely, there
was an unknown menace about man; and his ear told him that there were
several approaching. A few months earlier he would have stamped his
huge hoofs, thrashed the bushes with his colossal antlers, and stormed
forth to chastise the intruders. But now, he sniffed the sharp air,
snorted uneasily, drooped his big ears, and led a rapid but dignified
retreat down one of the deep alleys of his maze.

This was exactly what Uncle Adam had looked for. His object was to
force the herd out of the maze of alleys, wherein they could move
swiftly, an