THE WANDERER 109 



stand bush equality, to appreciate the fact that a 

 warrior's soul is often housed in a misshapen frame. 

 Neither had he ever heard the motto of his kind, 

 which forced itself home in years to come : " De- 

 spise not any moose. For there is no moose that 

 hath not his hour, nor is there any that hath not 

 his place." 



Some part of his lost character the aged bull 

 recovered next evening. He had failed signally to 

 uphold moose tradition, but that there had been 

 episodes in his career not altogether despicable, his 

 facial and other honourable scars declared. If a 

 cloud hung over the closing stage of his existence, 

 and certain it was he gave before the onslaughts of 

 the hornless one very readily, nothing in all the 

 old creature's life became him so much as the 

 ending of it. 



The two moose were following each other down 

 an overgrown game path, lit by autumn colourings. 



Everywhere scarlet currants burst through the 

 dark green undergrowth and dropped their brilli- 

 ancies like beads along the way. 



A soft, luring call broke the silence, low, pene- 

 trating, and peculiarly insistent. Again and again 

 it quivered on the still air, sounding farther off each 



