Realizing that they had a long trip before them, and anxious to reach the cabin in daylight, they paid no attention to his urgent appeals, but kept steadily to their course. Although quite deep in some places, the snow was dry and powdery, and the walking was easy.
Coming to an open spot in the woods where the snow had been piled into drifts by the wind, the boys saw something which greatly surprised them. A covey of grouse were flushed at the edge of the timber, and thundered away into the clearing. Like a meteor a feathered form dropped from the sky, and the grouse dove beneath the soft snow. The baffled hawk made a vicious sweep over the spot where they had disappeared, and then, rising, flew off above the tree-tops.
Bill led the lads to the place and pointed out the individual dents in the snow, beneath which the birds were buried. Stooping down, he spread his hands apart and, plunging them suddenly beneath the white surface, brought up a fine, plump grouse. He released it immediately, and said that none but a “pot-hunter” would take so noble a bird in that despicable manner. The boys had much sport grabbing beneath the snow for the balance of the covey, and refused to move on until they had each caught and released several of the struggling birds. Bill assured them this is a trick of the grouse when pursued by winged enemies where cover is scarce.
At another place they saw many moose tracks, some old, others quite fresh. Numerous young birch trees in the near vicinity were bowed to earth, and a few were broken off at greater or lesser distances from the ground. All of them had been stripped of their smaller branches and shoots. The boys were at a loss to account for it, until Bill said that the animals had been “riding down” the trees to browse on the tender branches and tops. He explained how a moose straddles such a tree with his fore legs and then proceeds to bend it earthward by walking along with the supple trunk beneath his heavy body.
When the sun was directly overhead they halted by the side of a woodland spring to eat their lunch. It was a warm spot, sheltered from the wind by tall trees. The sunlight found its way down between the branches and warmed a broad, flat rock on which they sat and ate. The brisk walk in the sharp air had put a keen edge to their appetites, and Bill laughed at the way the luncheon disappeared.
Moze came in panting and hot from an exhausting chase. He was speedily provided with his share of the food, which he gulped down with little attention to table manners.
Then they “hit the trail” again. Moze, evidently very tired, was content to follow slowly along at their heels. Suddenly he stopped, raised his head, and sniffed the air suspiciously. The hair along the back of his neck rose instantly, and he began to growl.
“He’s got wind of something,” declared Bill, halting and searching the forest with his eyes.
“What do you suppose it is?” asked Ed.
“Don’t know; I can’t see any tracks. What’s the matter, Moze?” inquired the trapper, addressing his hound.