STRADDLED ON A MAD MOOSE.

BY HUBERT EARL.

We sat around the big open brick fireplace in the main cabin of the camp, watching the birch logs as the flames greedily licked them and threw forth a strong ruddy light upon our faces. What with the guides and a few old veterans we made quite a party. Hunting stories had been the topic of the evening's conversation, and I, who had seldom hunted (this being, in fact, my first trip into the region), had listened to these stories very much interested. The camp was situated on an island in one of the numerous lakes found along the borders of northern Maine. It consisted of a few log cabins, with a large one in the centre, where we were at the moment congregated. The night air was very cold, and Billy, our host, had predicted a frost before morning. Billy was practically born in the woods, and knew every sign that could be learned. It was a pleasure to watch his quiet face as he pulled away on a big black cigar, gazing the while reflectively at the blazing logs. While I watched him my eyes drifted now and then around the walls of the cabin. Stacked in the corners were rifles and shot-guns of all descriptions, and strung along the log sides, upon wooden pins, rested fly-rods innumerable, their polished reels catching and reflecting the flicker of the fire.

Off in the shadowy corner a rude stairway, with moose-legs for rails, went climbing up into the loft overhead, and in the deepest part of the shadow I made out the head of a magnificent bull moose with immense spreading antlers. As I looked at it, it seemed to appear exceedingly savage, and the glass eyes had been so skilfully placed that in the flickering light they stared in the most baleful manner. Involuntarily I drew my chair closer to Billy's, and patiently watched his cigar dwindle down, ever and anon glancing at the ferocious-looking head behind me.

In a short time the conversation lulled, and I ventured to ask Billy to tell the story connected with the shooting of the moose behind us. "It is sure to be interesting," I said, "for he looks as if he died fighting hard."

Billy glanced at me in a protesting sort of way, but the chorus of requests for the story was too much for him.

"Well, boys," he said, "just give me a moment till I load my pipe, and I'll tell it to you; and you can judge for yourselves whether it is interesting or not.

"It was ten years ago coming winter when I had a camp near the mouth of the river below here. Some of you saw what's left of it when you came over the Parmachene trail yesterday. I was all alone that fall, except for an occasional hunter or so going up the trail, and for some reason deer was scarce. Well, I was hugging the fire one cold evening early in November, when I heard a loud crash outside the camp. Now that meant one of two things: either a windfall had taken place, or some large game was floundering through the bog near at hand. Seizing my rifle, I slipped out of the cabin.

"I looked in the direction from which the crash had come, but I could see nothing. Softly launching my canoe, I placed the rifle in the bottom of it, to be handy, you know, and started to paddle up the stream a little way. I had probably gone about fifty feet when a branch snapped, and then came a tremendous crash. The sound was close at hand, and I gave a quick look in the direction whence it came. The night was too black to see much, but I made out the huge stump of a tree that I had often thrashed for trout from. Immediately back of this stump lay a tangle of dead trees. I had stopped paddling, and the current of the stream was slowly drifting the canoe towards it, and, with my rifle ready, I waited for a sight of the game. Judging from the noise of the last crash, I knew it must be near the stump.

"Most of you boys can appreciate what my feelings were at the moment, for I felt pretty sure of big game and a good stock of meat. It took but a few seconds to drift around to the lee of that stump, and I quickly brought up with a thump against some of the dead wood in the bog. What I saw gave me a start, for there in the deep shadow stood the largest bull moose it has ever been my fortune to run across.

"Well, I'm an old hunter, guide, or whatever you want to call me, and have tracked deer from boyhood, also bear, moose, and caribou; but, boys, when I saw that magnificent bull glaring at me I grew feverish with excitement, and for a few minutes I simply stared back at him. I guess we were not more than twenty feet apart, and as far as I could tell through the steam rising from him, he was caught in the bog some way, and was fighting mad.

"I had been at close quarters with moose before, but never saw such dangerous-looking eyes. Raising my gun, I aimed as well as I could just back of his fore-shoulder. I felt shaky, though, and the sights went bobbing up and down like a cork float. I tried hard to get her steady, and when I had her fairly so I fired.

"There was a most unearthly, savage cry, and the dark body with those fearful eyes and antlers launched itself forward at me. I had hit him, but, as I afterward discovered, the bullet had cut along through the skin behind the fore-legs, and the pain forced the supreme effort by which he freed himself from the bog. He was rapidly coming for me when I let fly at him again. By this time my blood was up, mad with disgust at having missed killing him at such close range. I hit him the second time, and hit him hard, but on he came as though nothing could stop him, and I had just time enough to plant another bit of lead in him when he threw himself half out of the water and planted his forehoofs clean through the canoe. I knew I could never get away from him, as his savage eyes were watching me, so when I saw what his game was, I made a leap for his back as his hoofs went crashing through the canoe. As I landed on him I caught his antlers with one hand, drawing my knife with the other. Well, boys, I actually laughed at my queer position, and I dare say that moose was more than surprised. For a moment he couldn't realize where I had gone to and what was on his back. That moment of hesitation probably saved my life, for I reached over and drove the knife into him as near the heart as I could judge.

"There were a few seconds of trouble, during which I hung on to his antlers, until finally, with a big toss of his head, he threw me out into the stream. I had lost my knife in the struggle, and knew if he was not done for it was all up with me. So I swam away as rapidly as I could, expecting every minute to hear him after me. But his last effort had settled him, and, with a cry of satisfaction, I looked around, to find him again caught in the bog. He was dead at last, and with a rope I hitched him to the stump. The next morning I hauled him up to the camp, and, after some trouble, secured the canoe and rifle. He gave me the gamiest fight of my life, and that is the reason his head—the finest specimen you've probably seen—stands in the camp to-day."

This Department is conducted in the interest of Amateur Photographers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Camera Club Department.

PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, No. 15.

BROMIDE PRINTS.

Bromide paper differs from the printing-out papers both in manner of using and in the finished picture. Bromide paper is a paper coated with silver bromide and gelatine in emulsion, and is first printed and then developed in the same way as a negative. The prints when finished are a brilliant black and white.

This paper may be prepared by the amateur, but the ready-prepared papers are so reliable and so inexpensive, that it is really cheaper to buy the paper already sensitized. One great advantage of bromide paper over printing-out paper is that in using it one is entirely independent of day or sunlight. Strong "plucky" negatives are the best for bromide printing, but very good prints may be made with weak negatives by carefully timing the printing.

All the process of working bromide paper, except that of the printing, must be conducted by a red or yellow light. Open the package of paper in the dark-room, and the negative being already in the printing-frame, adjust a sheet of paper over the negative. The face of bromide paper may always be distinguished by its curling in. Cover the frame with a dark cloth, open the door of the lantern, and get your timepiece ready, for one must always print by exact seconds; never guess at the time. Uncover the frame and hold the negative about fifteen inches from the flame of the lamp, and if the negative is an ordinary printing one, expose to the light for ten seconds. Cover the frame immediately, close the door of the lantern, take the print from the frame, and if you wish to develop it at once soak the paper in clear water till it is limp enough to lie flat. Place it in the developing-tray face up, and flood it with developer. One may use almost any kind of developer with bromide paper. Eikonogen and hydrochinon are good developers, and do not stain the hands; but ferrous oxalate is the developer most used.

The image on the paper should develop rather slowly, and come up clear and brilliant. Develop till the detail is well out and the shadows deep enough. Pour off all the developer, leaving the print in the tray, and cover it with a solution composed of 1 dr. acetic acid, and 32 oz. of water. Allow this to act one minute; turn off, and repeat the operation twice more. Wash the print thoroughly, and place in a fixing bath of hypo, 3 oz.; water, 16 oz. After fixing, wash for an hour in running water, and hang up to dry. If prints are washed in running water they should be taken from the bowl two or three times during the washing, and the bowl filled with clean water. If running water is not used wash in ten changes of water, allowing the prints to remain ten minutes in each change of water.

In bromide prints one must be very careful to have all dishes used in the operation strictly clean. Greenish tones in the prints are caused by over-exposure and too much bromide in the developing solution. Yellow prints are caused by under-exposure, and too long development. In developing rock the tray in all directions. If it is rocked in one direction only, the prints will be streaked. Do not let water run directly on the prints, as it will cause blisters.

Bromide prints are always satisfactory, require no burnishing, do not fade, and when well printed and developed resemble engravings. They can be used for book illustrations, and will not curl or exhibit any of the disagreeable traits of the aristo prints.

Will Sir Knight Harry Hamner, of Philadelphia, please send his street and number? The Editor wishes to write to him in regard to a branch Camera Club in Philadelphia—which it is hoped he will organize.