AN UNEXPECTED TREAT. 



who comes here? My doe ? 



— Merry Jl'iTes. 



•Tl COUPIyE of evenings since we had a quiet spell for a 

 LY few hours, and my guide and I started out moose 

 * 4^ "calling." We pushed our canoe very cautiously 

 up the inlet of the little lake we're camped on, paddling 

 as lightly as possible, stopping frequently to listen, peer- 

 ing with expectant eyes into every bunch of alders, every 

 clump of young pines, hoping against hope that we might 

 see a moose " coming to water.' ' It was about five in the 

 afternoon, and the scenery along the brook was clothed in 

 beauty beyond the poets fancy or the painter's pnlet e. 

 The brown and green tints of the frosted and unfrosted 

 ferns ; the tufts of waving grasses with their green blades 

 tipped with 3'ellow ; the alders just beginning to put on 

 their autumn brown ; the red maple, the yellow birch, the 

 dark green pines, the stately juniper, the .sad cypress, and 

 all mirrored in the tawny stream ihat flowed lazily 

 beneath, without a ripple to disturb or fret the reigning 

 silence. 



Silence ? Yes ! Nature seemed to be up to her neck 

 in the depths of the hush as the guide shoved our canoe 

 on a pine root to anchor it. After he did so, he t- ok up 

 his birch bark horn and gave the three "calls" of the 

 cow-moo.se. First, the short, trenuilons wail ; then the 



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