Jacking and Moose-calling .145 



sound. This, too, was answered, and the an- 

 swering call was defiant as well. Then there 

 was silence for two or three minutes, while 

 we waited for our rival to make the next move. 

 Soon we were rewarded for our patience by 

 a third call, this time much plainer. 



" He's coming round the lake," whispered 

 the guide, and he sent back a defiant bellow. 

 Then there was silence again while the night 

 winds sighed in the treetops, and the ripples 

 on the water softly licked the sides of the 

 canoe, and murmured on the pebbly beach. 



In the course of five minutes, we could hear 

 him coming, thrashing the bushes with his 

 antlers, and occasionally stopping as though 

 uncertain. 



Each time his thundering challenge rolled 

 across the lake we responded with an equally 

 defiant bellow. At last we could hear him 

 thrashing the bushes with his antlers, and the 

 guide reached over with a paddle and 

 thrashed with the paddle upon some bushes 

 that grew along the shore. Then he blew a 

 short, defiant bellow, that plainly said, " Come 



