Nothing occurred on the way home, and in good time the two weary snow-shoe trampers came in sight of the lake and the camp.
When it was learned that they had been successful in their search for a caribou the other two expressed considerable delight; Lub because it would be a new kind of food for them to experiment on, and Ethan regarding the exploit with the interest of a born hunter.
“And, Phil?” the latter immediately broke out with, “to-morrow I hope you’ll take another little trip with me. I kind of think I know where we can get a moose; and you’ve been saying you want to shoot one in the snow forest with your camera.”
“How is that?” demanded Phil, naturally interested at once.
“Why, I took a little turn around this afternoon, just to exercise my pins, and practice with my show-shoes, because I’m not as clever at it as you. And I just had a glimpse of a big moose scooting off through the brush.”
“Did you fire at the beast?” asked Phil; “because if you wounded him the chances are he’d keep on going as long as he could move his hoofs, and we’d never get a sight of him again.”
“Why, no, I hope I’m too good a sportsman to shoot recklessly when there isn’t one chance in a hundred of my bringing the game down,” said Ethan a little indignantly. “I want to be fairly sure when I throw lead; I don’t believe in giving any animal unnecessary pain.”
“Excuse me, Ethan, I ought to have known you better than to ask that. And if the day is anyway decent I’ll promise to take a wide turn with you.”
“Thank you, Phil, for saying that; and I hope on my part we get close enough up for you to snap off the old bull moose before we drop him.”
“Did you see that it was a bull?” asked the other, curiously.