Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-01-21

shooting distance of the forbidding rock in the marsh. There was none like it, none so seductive, even among their own kind!
 One early October evening, gray, still, foreboding-Peter lay behind the cleft ot the big rock, calling for moose. For a long time the weird sound floated away over the marsh and across the little lake without an answer Then came a dis tant below, which gradually drew nearer and nearer, as Peter enticed the old bull with his deftly-plied birch bark horn. At length the great crea- ture emerged into the marsh, and, as it came on, Peter, peering bareheaded over his rampant of rock, saw with a thrill that set even his heart throbbing that it was a snow-white bull-the famous albino moose of the Barrie woods. the subject of many startling campfire tale. To shoot the almost fabled albino moose would crown Pe- ter's fame as hunter and give him 8 < name that would long survive in the traditions of the province. And this was, probably, the only chance he would ever have to perform such a feat -.,
 The man fairly trembled with excite ment as he pushed his long, old-fash- toned rife through cleft in the. rock and d'made ready to fire the shot of his life. The white moose was coming straight toward the rock where the hunter lay concealed. Peter crouched behind the rampant and, sweeping his horn low and close to the surface of the rock, gave one more muff1ed and seemingly retreating call.
 As he slowly lifted head and eyes into the cleft once more he was amazed to see just emerging into the barren. beyond the big rock, the figure of a man. The newcomer was unarmed, save for an ax, and he carried. a ped dler's pack on his back. As be, came in sight of the moose he stopped short and half turned, as if to flee. This brought his face directly toward Peters hiding place and instantly the hunter recognized him, in spite of the ravages of time, as the same Gaspard Langlois who had robbed him of his youthful sweetheart! Poor, degraded, and now, 10 doubt, alone in the world, fallen froA his dashing splendor of voy- ageur and man of the city, how hardly, after all had fate dealt with Theresa s successful suitor! Yet he was the same Gaspard Langlois, the man who had spoiled two lives, and destiny had at last cast him into Peter's hand.
 The white moose advanced a few steps further and stopped. confronting the man who had suddenly emerged from behind the rock Both seemed spellbound. Both were now within range of the deadly rife of Peter Par deau-the famous old rifle that had slain so many moose and caribou and bear! The long barrel shook in the crevice with a faint rattling sound. Peter turned it first on the man, and then back again on the moose. A fierce red spot blaZed on each of the man s cheeks. His hands trembled like two wind-shaken autumn leaves. Revenge hissed, Shoot the man, let the moose got" Fame, the long-cherished mis- tress of the lonely hunter, whispered, stKiu the moose first-then the man. A moose can run faster than mani"
 The trembling barrel of the old mug Zle-loader swayed to and fro. The spots blazed redder and fiercer in the marble cheeks of the hunter. Suddenly the white moose turned broadside- and a sheet of flame shot forth from the calling-rock. The moose sprang forward, then stumbled, and fell in a uuivering heap amidst the hard-hack.
 At the sound of the rifles crack Gas pard Langlois raised his eyes in terror to the great rock. Peter had leaped to his feet and with frantic haste was pouring fresh charge of powder into the long barrel of his rifle By a subtle divination Gaspard recognized the man he wronged, and knew the meaning ot Peters deadly haste. That handful of sliding, tinkling powder was for him! Y GaspaTd Langlois dropped the pack from his back and fled toward the lake and the forest beyond. Like a snipe, flushed from 9 tussock or clump of reeds, he twisted and zigzagged in his flight, that the bullet might perchance speed by him to left or right, and bury itself in the ooZy marsh. Peter worked himself up to the highest pinnacle of the rock, all the while driving home the patched bullet in the long rifle bar rel. He toiled with fierce haste, but with deadly sureness. Not a motion was wasted. .. . All ready now, save the little copper cap to slip over the nipple! Peter fetched it out of his buckskin pocket with a swift motion of thumb and fin ger; but just as he was fitting it to the nipple he raised his eyes for the fraction of a second to mark @es vic tim's whereabouts. Gaspard was just dodging into the shadow of the woods! The cap slipped and went tinl ing down the slope of rock Peter sprang after it, dropped down upon his knees, caught the rolling bit of metal and crushed it down over the nipple of his gun. When he rose, with the rifle pressed hard against his shoulder, the vast barren lay desolate and deserted. Not living figure was anywhere Tn ! A