82 THE MOOSE 



whose plumage was one with the whitened land- 

 scape, different looking birds altogether to the 

 mottled specimens who lived still in the yearling's 

 recollection. And once, on a high bluff, they came 

 on the larder of an eagle owl, wherein the frozen 

 heads of recent kills were strewn, ptarmigan mostly, 

 and here and there the ancient remains of ducks 

 and snipe. 



The trappers, unkempt of hair, tattered and 

 weather-worn, had come in from the wilds with 

 their varying bags of valuable skins. The moose 

 calf hated each man, and for all that felt the real 

 breath of the wilderness which blew into the post 

 with them. One bearded stalwart could even 

 imitate Keneu, the bald eagle, saluting the dawn, 

 so that it was possible to believe Keneu himself 

 screeched. Another talked to the eagle owls at 

 night, and got answer for answer, hoot for hoot. 

 Yet Moosewa hated these destroyers and despoilers, 

 with their bundles of the things which had once 

 been animate, pulseless, lifeless travesties lying on 

 the rough floor of the saloon before the appraising 

 eyes of the trader. 



When spring really came he felt the call most, 

 when the geese passed over, and the ducks and the 



