74 THE MOOSE 



quagmire by the vigorous rootings of a bear cub. 

 The moose did not Uke the look of his companion 

 at all, and, with his hobble removed, retreated to a 

 corner, where he stood dejectedly looking out to 

 the pines, standing like sentinels against the sky. 

 Overhead the geese flew in wedge-shaped skein, 

 and as they came, their wings beating the air in 

 rhythmical strokes, the whole concourse honked on 

 a hoarse, deep note, curiously penetrating, an epi- 

 tome of solitude, the call of the wild itself. Later, 

 the vibrant whir of myriad ducks migrating to 

 warmer countries made the calf look up. " Summer 

 has passed I Summer has passed I" sang in the 

 musical rustle. It was true. The young deer felt 

 it in his bones. Summer had passed, and with it 

 freedom ! 



He was christened "Moosewa," as the Cree 

 Indians of Sadie's native Canada would have called 

 him. Moosewa, Cree talk for wood-eater. And 

 very soon the growing calf understood and liked 

 his name, hearing in it something worth answering, 

 something wild, and strange, and true. Moosewa ! 

 It had a thrill in its sound like the creak of the 

 wind in the pine-tops. Moosewa ! Moosewa ! 



The trading-post, a long- established centre, con- 



