MOOSE HUNTING IN THE BACKWOODS 113 



boulders were overturned, showers of soil were sent flying 

 down the mountain-side, and small trees were entirely uprooted. 

 Now one of the combatants was pushed back on his haunches 

 for several yards before he recovered himself, with a groan that 

 betrayed his strained effort. Probably gaping wounds were inflicted 

 on both sides. At times the huge antlers interlocked, and the 

 vast bodies went swaying and rocking this way and that, as if they 

 were inextricably interlaced and both animals were doomed to 

 a miserable death. At last the new-comer, although the heavier of 

 the two combatants, after a severe round, in which he was pushed 

 heavily down the slope of the mountain, drew off, leaving his antag- 

 onist in possession of the field and of his calm spouse, who held 

 aloof ready to bestow herself on the victor no doubt on the principle 

 that none but the brave deserve the fair. 



The vanquished monster went sullenly away in the direction 

 whence he had come. Joe then tried another ringing call, to which, 

 however, he deigned no notice, being probably severely hurt in 

 the conflict. But to our astonishment the victor with his consort 

 slowly approached our direction. 



Joe knew well that to entice him within rifle shot it was of not 

 the slightest use to imitate the cow, as he was already mated. 

 So, with inimitable strategy, he lowered the mouth of his tube 

 close to the ground so as to deaden the sound, and then gave the 

 subdued cough which is the challenge of an enraged bull. The 

 response was immediate. The bull stood listening, perfectly still, 

 with every fibre of his long ears stretched to detect the source of 

 this new challenge. Now came a fresh proof of the Indian's fidelity 

 to nature. The smallest hoarseness, the slightest wrong vibration, 

 the least unnatural sound, would have proved fatal to our chances 

 of a shot. But the man writhed on the ground like a serpent, 

 making agonized expressions of countenance in his studied efforts 

 to counterfeit nature. Then he went one step further in his art, 

 and broke off branches of trees and thrashed his birch-bark horn 

 against the bushes, in imitation of a challenging bull defying all 

 comers with his antlers. 



The Indian's art triumphed perfectly. All caution was laid aside 

 by the monarch of the Canadian glen, which was now swiftly ad- 

 vancing towards us under the delusion that he was approaching 

 yet another claimant to his consort. 



It is small wonder that the novice at moose hunting is so 

 often the victim of ' buck fever ' ; and that even old hands are 

 reported as so often missing their chance at a bull moose. For one 

 thing, listening long and intently in the woods strings up the nerves 

 to high tension. For another, the cold benumbs the fingers after a 



