126 CANADIAN NIGHTS 



sion of countenance will imitate with such mar- 

 vellous fidelity the wailing, anxious, supplicating 

 cry of the cow, that the bull, unable to resist, 

 rushes out from the friendly cover of the trees, and 

 exposes himself to death. Or it may be that the 

 most accomplished caller fails to induce the sus- 

 picious animal to show himself : the more ignoble 

 passion of jealousy must then be aroused. The 

 Indian will grunt like an enraged bull, break dead 

 branches from the trees, thrash his birch-bark horn 

 against the bushes, thus making a noise exactly like 

 a moose fighting the bushes with his antlers. The 

 bull cannot bear the idea of a rival, and, casting his 

 prudence to the winds, not unfrequently falls a 

 victim to jealousy and rage. 



The hunter calls through his horn, first gently, 

 in case there should be a bull very near. He then 

 waits a quarter of an hour or so, and, if he gets no 

 answer, calls again a little louder, waiting at least a 

 quarter of an hour — or half an hour some Indians 

 say is best — after each attempt. 



The cry of the cow is a long-drawn-out melan- 

 choly sound, impossible to describe by words. The 

 answer of the bull moose, on the contrary, is a 

 rather short guttural grunt, and resembles at a 

 great distance the sound made by an axe chopping 



