MY FIRST BULL-MOOSE . 77 



we should have further use for moose-calling that 

 night. 



Next morning we were out at half-past four, but 

 we received no answer to our calls. In the evening 

 of the second day we went up the stream as early 

 as five o'clock, running the nose of the canoe into a 

 bunch of swale grass near to the mouth of an old 

 lumber road. This night, like the last, was clear and 

 very cold and the water was freezing in the shallow, 

 quiet parts of the stream, making a turn of the canoe 

 in some places a noisy performance. After the first 

 call had echoed and reechoed around the ridges on our 

 right and left, we were rejoiced to get an answer. 

 At first it was only a smothered grunt ; then followed 

 a hoarse, well-defined bark that seemed to be miles 

 away. Louder and louder and more frequent grew 

 the barking as the bull came nearer for bull it was 

 and it seemed as if each step of his approach was 

 accompanied with a grunt or a bark. To our dismay 

 he came down the very road of which we were nearly 

 in front. When almost at its mouth, he stopped, 

 listened for a moment and then moved up and down 

 the banks, crashing and breaking the alders and listen- 

 ing at every step, as if to catch another whisper from 

 his mistress. Yet he took the best of care not to 

 show himself. In the meanwhile the guide was busy 

 pawing the water with his birch-bark horn or letting 

 some of it pour from the narrow end of the instru- 



