86 NEIGHBOURS UNKNOWN 



of the prowling kindreds, arrived in the heart 

 of a covert of young fir-trees, from beneath 

 whose sweeping branches he could command a 

 near and clear view of the sandspit. Disap- 

 pointed he was, but not surprised, to find that 

 the great moose-bull had disappeared. Seat- 

 ing himself with his back to a small tree, his 

 rifle and the birch-bark trumpet or " moose 

 call " across his knees, he settled down to 

 wait to wait with that exhaustless patience, 

 that alert yet immobile vigilance, which are, 

 perhaps, hardest to acquire of all the essentials 

 of woodcraft. In the stillness the wood-mice 

 came out and resumed their play, with fairy- 

 thin squeaks and almost inaudible patterings 

 and rustlings over the dry carpet of the fir 

 needles. 



At last, above the flat, black horizon beyond 

 the lower end of the lake, came the first pale 

 glow of moonrise. At sight of it the hunter 

 lifted the birch-bark horn to his lips and 

 breathed through it a deep, bleating call, 

 grotesque and wild, yet carrying an indescrib- 

 able appeal, as if it were the voice of all the 

 longing of the wilderness. Twice he sounded 

 the uncouth call. Then he waited, listening, 

 thrilled with exquisite expectancy. 



He knew that, when one called a moose, 

 one never knew what might come. It might, 



