It was on the Saturday evening, when they had all assembled round the fire, for it was more cold than it had hitherto been, that the moaning of the wind among the trees of the forest announced a gale of wind from the northward.
“We shall have it soon,” observed Martin, “winter mostly comes in with a gale.”
“Yes; and this appears as if it would be a strong gale,” replied Alfred. “Hark! how the boughs of the trees are sawing and cracking against each other.”
“I reckon we may get our snow-shoes out of the store-house, John,” said Martin, “and then we shall see how you can get over the ground with them when you go out hunting. You have not shot a moose yet.”
“Is the moose the same as the elk, Martin?” said Henry.
“I do not think it is, sir; yet I’ve heard both names given to the animal.”
“Have you ever shot any?” said Mrs Campbell.
“Yes, ma’am; many a one. They’re queer animals; they don’t run like the other deer, but they trot as fast as the others run, so it comes to the same thing. They are very shy, and difficult to get near, except in the heavy snow, and then their weight will not allow them to get over it, as the lighter deer can; they sink up to their shoulders, and flounder about till they are overtaken. You see, Master Percival, the moose can’t put on snow-shoes like we can, and that gives us the advantage over the animal.”
“Are they dangerous animals, Martin?” inquired Mary.
“Every large animal is more or less dangerous when it turns to bay, miss. A moose’s horns sometimes weigh fifty pounds, and it is a strong animal to boot; but it can’t do anything when the snow is deep. You’ll find it good eating, at all events, when we bring one in.”