MY FIRST BULL-MOOSE 79 



moose or an owl 'way off there ? " " Can't say yet," 

 I replied ; " it sounds a little like both." We then 

 gave a third call, and after a rapt silence we again 

 heard the unknown sound. We listened and distinctly 

 heard the breaking of a branch a long distance away. 

 Again we strained our ears, and this time they were 

 rewarded with a decided answer from a bull-moose. 

 He was surely coming, but not with the tearing rush 

 so characteristic of these fellows when they're on their 

 way to their sweetheart. He was taking his own time 

 and approaching very leisurely. Probably he felt 

 sure of the fair one who had so lovingly called him and 

 therefore there was no need of hurry. She could wait. 

 And now the day was breaking. Eosy tints were 

 lighting up the sky and shimmering on the alders, the 

 cranberry bushes and the hazels — all freshly clothed 

 in a suit of night frost. It might have seemed to a 

 casual observer that both the guide and myself were 

 clothed in a like manner, for we sat there with a chat- 

 ter of teeth and a shiver of limbs that our blankets, 

 our overcoats, and our heavy gloves could not put a 

 stop to. We kept perfectly still otherwise ; fearing 

 almost to breathe, lest it might create some sound 

 that would reach the sharp ears of the bull. Yet at 

 this critical time ray teeth started up a fresh and vig- 

 orous chatter, which the guide's molars and incisors 

 promptly took up, and with the liveliest sort of a 

 staccato movement. Now, I am quite sure that if the 



