With Gun ftp Rod in Canada 



Joe admitted that he was a tolerable guide, but un- 

 reliable. To point his opinion the old woodsman 

 related the following: 



" Labrador took a feller from Boston out moose- 

 huntin'; one night they tented right on this spot. In 

 the mornin' the Injun called from that big rock there." 

 He pointed to an enormous boulder that guarded one 

 side of the outlet. " Now the man from Boston had 

 read about moose callin', but had never heard it. The 

 Indian suspicioned that he had a well-to-do greenhorn, 

 and wishin' to drag out the trip as long as possible, was 

 in no hurry to get him a moose. Just about sunrise 

 Labrador took his moose call and his ' sport ' up on that 

 there big rock, and called like a cow moose ail right, but 

 ended each call with a loud squawk. After he'd done 

 this several times his ' sport ' began to mistrust that 

 something wasn't just right, so he asked the Injun what 

 he made that loud squawk for at the end of each call. 

 ' Me call-um big fat moose that-away,' said the Injun. 

 ' Well, you leave that squawk off and call-um darn 

 skinny ones, after this, you old rascal,' the ' sport ' told 

 him." 



Joe then went on to explain how Labrador took the 

 hint, and called up a fine bull to the edge of the Hopper 

 pond, where the man from Boston killed him with one 

 shot. To prove the story, Joe took us over across the 

 pond and showed us the old bones. 



We broke camp after two nights at the Hopper, and 

 rowed down through the Second and First Lakes to 

 Indian Gardens, passing " Cobby Ell," the '' Old Sow," 

 " Umbrell," and Cowie's Bay. It was six miles. All 

 through this trip I marvelled at the ease with which 

 Joe pulled the heavily loaded boat. In these days of 

 cruising around Lake Rossignol in a motor-boat one 

 seldom runs across a guide who would undertake such 



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