MOOSE-HUNTING IN CANADA 131 



Accordingly we stole down to the edge of the 

 little point of wood in which we had ensconced 

 ourselves, and in a few minutes the forest was re- 

 echoing the plaintive notes of the moose. Not an 

 answer, not a sound — utter silence, as if all the 

 world were dead ! broken suddenly and horribly 

 by a yell that made the blood curdle in one's veins. 

 It was the long, quavering, human, but unearthly 

 scream of a loon on the distant lake. After what 

 seemed to me many hours, but what was in reality 

 but a short time, the first indications of davm re- 

 vealed themselves in the rising of the morning star, 

 and the slightest possible paling of the eastern sky. 

 The cold grew almost unbearable. That curious 

 shiver that runs through nature — the first icy 

 current of air that precedes the day — chilled us to 

 the bones. I rolled myself up in my blanket and 

 lighted a pipe, trying to retain what little caloric 

 remained in my body, while the Indian again 

 ascended the tree. By the time he had called tvdce 

 it was grey dawn. Birds were beginning to move 

 about, and busy squirrels to look out for their 

 breakfast of pine-buds. I sat listening intently, 

 and watching the blank emotionless face of the 

 Indian as he gazed around him, when suddenly I 

 saw his countenance blaze up with vivid excite- 



