Feb. 9, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



43 



or a deer. Still lie took a careful and rather long aim, 

 and as the shot rang out and was thrown back by the 

 cliffs above and tossed about from crag to crag the goat 

 sprang to its feet, and as it rushed across the narrow 

 shelf on which it had been lying, it was seen that its 

 left foreleg was swinging helplessly, evidently broken 

 high up. This was satisfactory, for as it had been lying 

 a little quartering toward the gun, a ball that had broken 

 its shoulder must have passed through heart or lungs. The 

 goat ran to the edge of the shelf as if about to leap off, 

 but the plunge of 60ft. straight clown was too much for 

 it. It turned and ran back toward the crevice, down 

 which it had come and reared against the rocks as if to 

 try to ascend , but as it did so Appekunny fired a shot 

 which struck the rocks in front of it, and it again ran 

 back to the edge of the shelf. Just as it reached it, its 

 knees gave way and it pitched forward, whirling over 

 and over through the air, struck a, ledge and bounded 

 out again, rolled over and over down the slide rock into 

 a narrow smooth water course guttered out of the slate, 

 and in this channel slipped, slid and rolled over and over, 

 an inert mass, down the moimtamside and out of sight. 



"Hurrah," shouted Appekunny, "You've got him, sure 

 enough, and you ought to, for you took a long enough 

 aim." 



Yo felt reasonably sure that the creature was dead, but 

 he had heard so many stories of the way in which these 

 goats when mortally wounded crawl away and hide 

 themselves in the crannies and crevices of the rocks, that 

 he was anxious to get his knife into Iris first goat and so 

 to make sure of it. Without wasting time in words. 

 • therefore, he followed the animal down the mountain- 

 side, springing from rock to rock in such hasty fashion 

 as to call forth from his companion more than one cau- 

 tion to him to look out for his neck. Down where the 

 goat had tumbled into the ravine the rocks were plenti- 

 fully besmeared with blood, and 50 or 60yds. further 

 down, at the foot of a step, the animal lay dead, the 

 upper part of its heart torn to pieces. It was a female 

 two-year-old, and had never bred. 



About this time the Rhymer and Jack, after a fruitless 

 climb during which they had fired no shot, started for 

 camp, which they reached about dark. 



It took some little time to drag the carcass on to a con- 

 venient shelf for working on it, and to get it in shape for 

 transportation down the mountain. By this time it was 

 4 o'clock, and the sun had long passed behind the western 

 peaks, the sky was overcast and daylight beginning to 

 fade. The chances of their getting into camp that night 

 were small. Hurrying down the mountainside they 

 struck the trail, Appekunny in the lead with the head, 

 hide and shoulders of the game on his back, while Yo 

 followed with the hams and saddles. On the way down 

 they counted nine goats at various points. They traveled 

 as fast as possible, and at length on passing a little pine 

 tree, Yo hung his load in it to be brought down another 

 day. By this tune it was getting dusk and had begun to 

 rain. 



The horses were a mile above the trail on the moun- 

 tainside, and of course must be brought down, so pres- 

 ently Yo turned off to get them, but found his way barred 

 by a number of deep ravines filled with brash and slide 

 rocks, through which it was difficult to force one's way, 

 and progress was very slow. By the time he reached the 

 horses he found that Appekunny had also come for them, 

 and was starting down the hill. It was now quite dark 

 and raining, and as he picked his way slowly down the 

 hill, dragging after him his unwilling horse, he presently 

 heard a wail like that of a lost soul rise out of the dark- 

 ness below him. 



"Look out for the trail," was the cry, and in reply to an 

 answering shout came back in mournful accents, "I can't 

 find the trail; I've lost the trail." And the echoes took 

 up the sounds, and rocks and pines called back trail, 

 tra-i-l, ail, ail, till the air was f uil of the dismal murmurs. 

 Presently the men met down in the timber, about where 

 the trail should be, and after a little found it, followed it 

 on foot for 100yds., then lost it, found it again and 

 so went on for half a mile very slowly and unsatisfac- 

 torily. 



At last Appekunny said, "Let's camp. We can't find 

 the trail; and if we could I don't propose to risk my neck 

 going down on those rocks in the dark." 



"We'll try it once more," replied Yo, "and see if the 

 horses will follow it. If they won't we must find a place 

 where there's a little feed, and camp there. I wish we 

 had a piece of that goat meat, I'm hungry." 



"lleft my load back on the trail," said Appekunny, 

 "hoping that we might get down over the rocks before 

 dark. It's no use to try to go back there now, I could 

 never find it." 



"Not the least chance of it," answered Yo. "No mat- 

 ter; we'll have a good breakfast to-morrow morning. 

 Now I'm going to ride a ways and see if Caribou will fol- 

 low the trail." 



Caribou declined to do any such thing, and presently 

 horse and rider found themselves in the dead top of a 

 fallen tree, and off the trail. 



"No use, Appekunny," called out his companion. 

 "Let's camp." 



A few yards back was a little open park where there 



was some grass for the horses, and here they unsaddled, 

 tied the horses out, and built a fire. They had no food 

 nor water, but the night was mild and the rain had 

 ceased falling, so that there was every prospect that they 

 would be fairly comfortable. The fire was built near 

 two large spruces, and it took but a short time to find a 

 slender pole which was run across the lower branches of 

 these trees about six feet from the ground. Over this 

 pole the saddle blankets were hung, forming a lean-to, 

 which reflected back the heat from the fire and which 

 was warm and comfortable while the fire lasted, but it 

 took only about an hour for this to burn down, and then 

 one or other of the men woidd get cold, and rise to mend 

 the fire and smoke and get warm, and then would curl up 

 again and take a little more sleep. All night long the 

 geese could be heard talking on the lake not far from 

 tliem, and other flocks coming in and announcing their 

 arrival in trumpet tones. The sky had cleared and the 

 night was warm, there was plenty of wood, and the 

 men were comfortable and contented. 



At last daylight came. The horses were saddled, the 

 trail found at once, and an hour and a half later two very 

 hungry men were in camp eating breakfast faster than 

 the two others could cook it for them. Yo. 



lit jt$otfattinn ^aumi 



THE CALL OF THE MOOSE.-II. 



EAELY in the summer it had been arranged that a 

 party of four should start for a three weeks' trip to 

 the Big Woods, in the month of September, to hunt, fish, 

 prospect and have a good time generall ? t Two of them, 

 George and Ronald, the best moose callers in the Pro- 

 vince, were to have been met here by Billy and Matteo. 

 These two had taken a light team early that September 

 morning and left the settlement, intending to meet their 

 friends on the lake, as agreed. Forty miles of a drive 

 and a tramp of seven had brought them to their canoe. 

 Embarking, they had crossed Fire Island Lake, and made 

 the carry just as the big owl spied them at the outlet 

 coming out of the woods, as described last week. 



The old owl having made his meal and, no doubt, 

 moved by curiosity, determined to fi..d why these two 

 men were moving about at such an unseemlyhour instead 

 of lying quietly in some snug camp till morning. He was 

 the more bent on this because just at sunset, away up at 

 the head of the lake, he had seen two others shove off 

 from an island and paddle away in their canoe. He 

 thought it strange at the time, as it was too late to go 

 fishing; however, he was getting hungry, so he started 

 off to look for his supper, and forgot all about the men 

 and the canoe until he saw the second party come out of 

 the woods. Having had a good supper he made up his 

 mind to follow them, spread his great wings and sailed 

 quietly after and overtook them at the "rips" leading 

 into the lake. Here he took up his position on an old 

 hemlock and listened. 



"You see that old hemlock, Billy, where owl just fly 

 to?" (This made the owl a little nervous, as he thought he 

 had got there so silently the men had not seen him, and 

 the Indian had his rifle between his knees, and the bird's 

 first thought was to fly away; however, the rifle did not 

 move, so he made up his mind to stay where he was.) 



"Yes, Matteo, that is the old tree where we hung up 

 the tlu-ee bears two years ago this fall. There is the 

 little hill where we camped that night. I remember it 

 well." Billy relapsed into silence and smoked for a long 

 time without speaking. The Indian, however, seemed 

 bent on conversation; he presently said, "You very quiet 

 to-night; wat matter, Billy, not feel well? Sometiiing 

 bodder you, suppose." 



"Yes, I feel very well; but sad thoughts are in my 

 mind. I was thinking how only two short years had 

 passed since we camped under the shadow of that old 

 tree a joyous party. I think I can hear the merry laugh 

 and see the bright faces of the group as they appeared 

 that night; how full of health and life and hope they all 

 were. One of the four has gone, as you know, never to 

 come back; he has crossed the dark riv r, gone over the 

 divide, to the happy hunting grounds of your people, to 

 the white man's heaven, cut off in the prime of his man- 

 hood and strength from among friends who loved him 

 well. No more will his joyous shout be heard in forest 

 and on stream; no more will his smile welcome us at the 

 door of the 'home camp' as we return from the hunt. 

 He is gone, Matteo, never more to return, and my heart 

 feels sad to-night for my lost friend." 



"He very great friend of ours, Billy; like him very 

 much, me too. Big Man up 'bove call him; have to go; 

 wantum for somet'ing, you an' me can't tell. Never 

 mind , Billy. He only gone little piece ahead. We fol- 

 low putty soon; bymbye meetum there, suppose." Thus 

 the poor Indian expressed himself; how simple, how 

 much to the point, and yet it struck home to the heart of 

 his lister er deeper perhaps than a choicer address from 

 the Hps of some great divine clad in the orthodox robes 

 of mother church, and preached from the pulpit. 



Thus these two talked of their dead friend, until the 

 moon showed clear above the top of the old hemlock, 

 warning them that it was time to be moving. As they 

 embarked in the canoe, the Indian remarked, "Pretty 

 fine night. No wind. Meby call on big Stillwater. What 

 you think? P'r'aps get answer. Finish whole business 

 to-night." 



"I think that Ronald and George will be out to-night, 

 and we might spoil their sport if we called on the lake, 

 Matteo." 



"Think meby they up on Crooked Brook, not on lake 

 at all. Ronald know if we come. Call on lake sure 

 count of fine night. If he call on lake, we hearum 

 sure. If no hearum, we call. Get answer to-night, I 

 think." 



To this arrangement no objection was made, and shov 

 ing off they proceeded slowly up the lake. A lovely pic- 

 ture lay spread before them. The glassy surface of the 

 water glistening like burnished silver in the clear moon- 

 light, reflected the great trees in the clear water, as in a 

 mirror. They seemed to nod their welcome to thestran- 



I gers, as the tiny ripple from the prow of the canoe dis- 

 turbed the shining surface. Beautiful little islands 

 doited the expanse, here and there hke jewels set in a 

 silver crown. Far in the background the dark hills 

 showed clear against the deep blue sky, while old Bald 

 Mountain, towering high above them, seemed to stand 

 sentry over all to guard he narrow entrance to this beau- 

 tiful laud. Alas! to think how short a time the solitude 

 will be left thus; how short the distance on the other side 

 of those hills, where the iron horse can be heard puffing 

 and snorting; and the ring of the triphammer, the glow 

 of the furnace, the smoke, the bustle of the busy world. A 

 few short years and all this beautiful sylvan scene willhave 

 vanished. Where now only the bear and the moose, the trout 

 and the otter find a home, the axe of the lumberman 

 and the pick of the miner will be followed soon by the little 

 bands of steel which will civilize the wilderness, chang- 

 ing it, who can say if for the better? Oh you who waste 

 your health, your time, your money, at the fashionable 

 resorts along our coa-fs. if you could only view this scene 

 as it appeared before those two that night, before it will 

 be blotted out from the face of the world forever by the 

 march of civilization, you would hasten before it will be 

 too late. But as old Natty Bumpo is made say, "All 

 men have their gifts;'' some prefer the quiet stillness of 

 the wilderness, "God's countiy," there to commune with 

 nature: some the bustle and turmod of the crowded city. 

 So let it be. Each to his liking. Thoughts such as 

 these filled the mind of the steersman as the canoe made 

 its way slowly up the lake. Hark I what sound is that 

 which makes them both cease paddling and listen intently 

 for some minutes. Pre-ently it is heard again, a great 

 way off, but swelling and echoing in the calm stillness of 

 the night, Ouigh, ouigh, ouighd, the last sound long 

 drawn and very plaintive comes distinctly over the still 

 waters. Well, they know the sound, these two. It was 

 not to find out the nature of it that they listened so in- 

 tently; it was to locate it. Very strange and puzzling it 

 would have sounded to one who had never heard it. It 

 resembles no civilized sound on earth or in air; a pecu- 

 liar weird cry, and once heard not easily forgotten; but 

 these two knew well its meaning. It was the call of the 

 cow moose. 



"That is a cow calling, Matteo, but a long way off . 

 What shall we do?" 



"Don't think that cow-call. Little too often. Think 

 that them fellar calling on Stillwater." 



"Well, that settles it, so far as our calling is concerned," 

 answered Billy, "so we may as well move along ;" and r oon 

 the canoe was going faster through the water than it had 

 done before. For about half an hour they paddled stead- 

 ily on without speaking, the lake becoming gradually 

 narrower as they approached the head or inlet. On the 

 right the hills appeared to run down close to the lake, 

 and were thickly wooded with beech and maple: and on 

 the left a long stretch of bog or marsh, studded here and 

 there with clumps of alders and stunted cat spruce, and 

 long, narrow threads like streaks of silver showed where 

 the tiny creeks ran far up into the bog. But, hark! The 

 two friends drop the paddles and reach forward as if to 

 grasp their rifles. There it is again, clear and distinct, 

 and sounding much nearer than it really is— bok, bole. 

 The Indian's eyes seem to flash red in the moonlight as 

 he turns to his companion, "Moose comm', Billy, big one, 

 too. What do? Say quick!" 



Billy knew what the Indian meant; he knew that the 

 moose would not cross the open bog in the clear moon- 

 light, but would follow the timber around, and to do this 

 he would have to make a long circuit and cross two still- 

 waters. At either of these crossings he could he inter- 

 cepted and shot, by following the creek through the bog 

 in the canoe, and arrive there a long time before the 

 moose. All this passed like a flash through his mind, and 

 having weighed everything carefully, he said, "It may 

 not be our friends who are calling, it may be strangers. 

 We will follow quickly up in the shadow. The moose 

 will go round. They have not heard the answer, who- 

 ever is calling. There it is again. We will make for the 

 big stillwater. If it is our friends who call, all right; if 

 not, there will be no harm done." "Putty big moose; 

 may be scare him call much more. You an' me get him 

 sure, if meet him now." Not a sound came from the 

 moose now. He had heard the last call and was evi- 

 dently listening; for presently they heard the rattle of 

 his horns against some tree, accompanied by one low bok, 

 and that was all. "He go light 'long now; but them fel- 

 lar better not call 'gam," said Matteo, and he dipped his 

 paddle and they moved along. Billy wished he had a 

 telephone, so he could whisper to the caller over the water 

 ntt to say another word; but he had not, so they moved 

 forward. Whether the last bok had reached the ears of 

 the callers they could not say; but no further sound dis- 

 turbed the still night, neither trom the moose nor the 

 callers. Quickly the canoe moved along, and presently 

 entered the mouth of the stillwater. Here our friends 

 stopped to listen a moment, and a faint bok from away 

 up in the timber announced that the moose was still 

 moving. 



Following the creek for about a mile and a half the 

 canoe arrived at a small barren, dry and covered with 

 little rocks ana the tall trunks of burnt trees. From the 

 head of the barren to the. top of the creek or stillwater it 

 was but a few hundred yards, and between these points 

 they knew the callers must be hidden, and acro>s this 

 little haven the moose would probably come, if he came 

 at all, and then follow the edge of the water to the call. 

 Heie quickly drawing the canoe into the shade of the 

 long bushes and lily pads growing along the margin, the 

 two canoemen settled themselves to await further de- 

 velopments. Seated on the bottom of the canoe, rifle in 

 hand, they quietly waited. The moon was now on the 

 home stretch, and sho ved the smallest objects clear and 

 distinct. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes went by, still no 

 sound. Forty-five minutes by the watch. Hark ! a 

 sound, but it is in the air. and along comes the big owl 

 and settles himself on an old dead tree; ho-ho-hoto-ho he 

 called as he fixed himself on the limb. Was there some 

 secret understanding between these two of the wilder- 

 ness, the bird and the beast, and was this call a signal to 

 warn the moose that his arch enemy lay in wait for him 

 and advising him to turn while there was time? Casting 

 an angry glance at the bird, Billy whispered to his chum, 

 "If the moose don't come, Matteo, I will shoot that cwl." 

 To whieh he replied, "Moose come sure this time, don't 

 you be 'fraid: big one, too, mind I tell you." 



Another half hour passed with not a sound save the 

 splash of muskrat or otter in the creek. Then, ah! the 



