\yiIERE THE SrOllTSMAX LOVES TO LINGER. 



81 



^\Q wore on the lake avIktc lie secured i(, we heard tli(^ story 

 of the trick, often tried, but seldom accomplished, of simu- 

 lating the call of the cow moose and l)rini!,ing the bull. 



^'One clear, crisp afternoon one of the guides informed 

 the camp of his intentions. Fashioning a megaphonic horn 



"Good Morning, Mr. Trout! How Are All the Family?" 



of birch l)ark, li(^ went about a quarter of a nule from the 

 camp, wIh^i'c a toting road ended at the lake. We soon heard 

 echoing through the tind)er and over the hike an exact imi- 

 tation of the long drawn-out, weird, nerve-racking plaint of 

 the cow moose. At intervals the guide continued the call. 

 You could hear a pin drop in the camp. Between times one 

 could !iear the busy ^stake-driver,' the report of the gun 

 of some distant hunter and the wail of the loon. While 

 we were intently listening one of tlu^ guides jumped to his 



