222 THE WILDERNESS AND JUNGLE 



he then put to his lips, and, lo ! the dull- 

 throated roar of a bull moose echoed through 

 the still forest, rising and falling in wonderful 

 imitation of the creature's challenge. We 

 listened intently, but in vain, for no answer- 

 ing roar came in response. Then, after wait- 

 ing for a quarter of an hour, the call was 

 repeated, but again without result, so we turned 

 in and lay clown on the fragrant beds piled high 

 with tips of hemlock. 



u Next evening Andrew called again, and 

 now indeed there came from afar the answering 

 call. Then, after another wait, which seemed 

 like an hour but could only have been a matter 

 of minutes, he called once more, and again the 

 answer reached us, this time from much closer 

 at hand. The next sound we heard was that 

 of the moose thrashing his way with his antlers 

 as he came through the undergrowth. Fortu- 

 nately the wind was in the right quarter, and 

 still he came in our direction, when suddenly, 

 perhaps a hundred yards from where we waited, 

 we heard him no more, and concluded that he 

 must have stopped. And now Andrew gave 

 just one low grunt on his trumpet, and I 

 slipped back the catch of the rifle, staring 

 anxiously into the gloom, where the moonlight 

 threw such fantastic shadows that it was easy 

 to mistake the boughs of trees for spreading 

 antlers. Suddenly, John, my other Indian, 

 touched my arm and pointed towards the 

 darkness. He, of course, could see the moose, 

 but my eyes were not those of a Micmac, and 

 it took me a moment longer to make out the 



