BACK OF BARRIO AFTER MOOSE. 



251 



me faintly, a sound not unlike distant 

 wood chopping. The moose was 

 probably 2 miles away. 



A well judged space of listening 

 and the horn was again resorted to. 

 This time the bull's response was im- 

 mediate and decisive. The quick, 

 short bark, "ka-puk, ka-puk," thrilled 

 us through and through, while the 

 guide's face was a study in animation. 



"He's coming along the ridge; 

 coming fast," whispered Ned, "but 

 he'll circle down to the lake before he 

 heads for us and then the boys '11 

 have him." 



Surely enough, the next word we 

 had from his lordship showed his 

 course had veered toward the lake. 

 Minutes slowly passed and the first 

 shadows of the corning dusk appeared, 

 without an answer from our antlered 

 friend, so recently in headlong haste 

 to meet his supposed conquest. His 

 characteristic caution had finally come 

 to aid him. An armor of protective 

 faculties was in use as he scouted 

 through the undergrowth, silent, alert, 

 suspicious. Then came the test of the 

 caller's ability. 



Ned descended from his position on 

 the boulder and stood close by me on 

 the ground. I noted stern determin- 

 ation in his face as he prepared for 

 this crucial attempt. His rivals at the 

 settlement were broadly commenting 

 on the fact that Ned's last party out 

 had failed to get its moose. This fail- 

 ure, though not his fault, and the at- 

 tendant gossip, had annoyed him, and 

 this time he meant business. The 

 horn was pointed toward the ground, 

 Ned almost crouched on his haunches 

 and I could see by the play of muscles 

 in his neck and cheek that the issuing 

 tones, though less resonant than be- 

 fore, expressed the height of all his 

 skill. It was evident the bull no 

 longer doubted, for he replied at once 

 with an impatient grunt and we heard 

 a faint splash or 2 as he came toward 

 us. 



Ned carelessly tossed the horn on 

 the ground and turning to me, his 



face lighted by a pardonable smile of 

 triumph, said, 



"That settles it ! He's on the open 

 bog, within 100 yards of 'em this 

 minute. They'll shoot directly." 



We listened with absolute confi- 

 dence for several moments of intense 

 excitement. This faith finally weak- 

 ened as time passed and no rifle shot 

 came to our waiting ears. I remem- 

 ber catching a spider, pendant from 

 my hat brim, and viciously crushing 

 him between my fingers as the convic- 

 tion dawned on me that in some way 

 the thing had miscarried. Ned's tense 

 face was turned toward me in mute 

 interrogation. What had happened? 



Slowly Ned picked up the horn^ 

 discarded at what appeared the mo- 

 ment of success, for one last half- 

 hearted attempt. At the same instant 

 we heard a sharp "puk-a-puk" below 

 us to the left, and the rattle of the 

 bull's antlers against the trees. Ned 

 flung the horn from him with an im- 

 patient gesture and ejaculated, 



"Gone ! By all that's holy ! I knew 

 that last bark meant trouble." 



Wending our way back to camp, 

 the guide set about preparing supper. 

 We probably presented a rather for- 

 lorn and dejected picture to the other 

 men as they joined us a little later. 

 We certainly were in no joking mood. 

 The outcome of this affair meant to 

 Ned the approval or disapproval 01 

 his fellow guides in a world where 

 men measure success by visible and 

 tangible results ; the recovery or loss 

 of a prestige dear to him. Perhaps, 

 in a less degree, failure might mean a 

 blow at his very means of existence. 



Ned didn't turn around as the oth- 

 ers came blithely into camp ; he was 

 busy about the fire. Over his shoul- 

 der, however, he sent the cheery in- 

 quiry, 



"Well, Mr. L., what was the mat- 

 ter?" 



Mutual explanations followed. Our 

 friends had heard no moose, seen no 

 moose, could not believe there had 

 been a moose near them. To be sure, 



