72 PRAIRIE AND FOREST. 
two traversed, when the margin of a clear, calm lake was 
reached, surrounded with beautiful green hills. Again we 
launched our canoe on the bosom of the waters, arriving at 
a second halting-place as the sun in glorious splendor dip- 
ped the western horizon. Hiding our frail birch-bark craft 
in some brush, with my attendant leading, we started up an 
acclivity; after an hour’s rough and difficult walking, the 
Indian stopped, and sounded a note on his calling-horn. 
To this there was no response, but my friend assured me, 
“ Plenty moose by-by.” 
The night was as beautiful as the day preceding it. The 
hunter’s moon was at its full, and near objects could be 
seen almost as distinctly as when the sun was high in the 
heavens. Several efforts with the call had been made; dis-_ 
appointment and failure began to appear certain, when a 
distant and unknown sound struck my ear. At the same 
moment the redskin seized my arm and- whispered, “Old 
bull.” We both placed ourselves in a hemlock-tree, and 
numerous were the injunctions I received of the necessity 
of silence. Afraid to move, cramped in an awkward posi- 
tion, for near a mortal hour I endured the torments, cer- 
tainly not of the blessed; still move I would not, ultimately 
could not, as the answering voice of the bull in response to 
the Indian’s call told that the giant was rapidly approach- 
ing. At length—oh, how glad I was!—the noblest game I 
had ever set eyes upon broke into the opening at a cautious 
trot, hesitated, stopped, and impatiently stamped his foot. 
The distance that the moose was from us could not have 
been more than thirty yards. Slowly and imperceptibly 
the Indian’s gun was getting into shooting position. I at- 
tempted to do the same with mine, when—oh! what ex- 
cuse can I offer ?—bang went the right barrel, and, but for 
a vigorous effort, I should have fallen from my perch. 
I had better draw a veil over the recriminations that en- 
