290 CANADIAN NIGHTS 



rock. The tree trunks stand out distinct in the 

 lessening gloom ; the dark pine boughs overhead 

 seem to stoop caressingly towards you. Amid a 

 stillness that is terrifying, man is not afraid. 

 Surrounded by a majesty that is appalling, he 

 shrinks not, nor is he dismayed. In a scene of 

 utter loneliness he feels himself not to be alone. 

 A sense of companionship, a sensation of satis- 

 faction, creep over him. He feels at one w^ith 

 Nature, at rest in her strong protecting arms. 



As soon as the moon was high enough to shed 

 a good light, Noel and I walked down to a little 

 point of woods jutting out into the barren to call. 

 Putting the birch-bark caller to his lips, Noel 

 imitated the long-drawn, wailing cry of the moose, 

 and then we sat down wrapped in our blankets, 

 patiently to listen and to wait. No answer, per- 

 fect stillness prevailed. Presently, with a strange, 

 rapidly approaching rush, a gang of wild geese 

 passed, clanging overhead, their strong pinions 

 whirring in the still air. After pausing about 

 half an hour Noel called again, and this time we 

 heard a faint sound that made our hearts jump. 

 We listened intently and heard it again. It was 

 only an owl a long way off calling to its mate in 

 the woods. After a while we heard a loon's 



