Reynolds did not refer to the incident the next day, and Samson made no
mention of it. The latter was in excellent spirits, and talked freely
as they moved on their way. That night they halted, and made ready
their camp by the side of a small lake. It was a peaceful and
beautiful spot. Not a ripple ruffled the surface of the water, and the
trees along the shore were mirrored in the clear depths. Reynolds was
delighted, and he expressed his admiration to his companion.

"Isn't this great!" he exclaimed. "I have never seen anything to equal
it! It is a matchless gem, with a perfect setting."

"Yes, it sartinly is wonderful," the prospector drawled. "An' I'm glad
ye like it. Guess thar should be ducks over yonder," and he motioned
to the upper end of the lake. "A good fat feller'd be nice fer dinner
to-morrow."

Picking up his rifle, he disappeared among the trees, and in another
minute his light tread was unheard. Reynolds stood for some time
viewing the scene before him. He longed for his paints and brushes
that he might catch the impressions ere they faded. Unfortunately he
had left them behind, so he had to satisfy himself with feasting his
soul instead.

At length he turned and walked back to their camping ground. He had
just reached the place when a magnificent moose trotted majestically by
but a short distance away. Forgotten was Samson's admonition about the
shooting of big game, so seizing his rifle, he slipped quickly and
quietly after the big animal. The latter had already passed out of
sight, but expecting to catch a glimpse of it at any instant, Reynolds