102 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
like that.” These sounds affected us strangely, and by 
their very resemblance to a familiar one, where they 
probably had so different an origin, enhanced the im¬ 
pression of solitude and wildness. 
At starlight we dropped down the stream, which was 
a dead-water for three miles, or as far as the Moose- 
horn ; Joe telling us that we must be very silent, and 
he himself making no noise with his paddle, while he 
urged the canoe along with effective impulses. It was 
a still night, and suitable for this purpose, — for if there 
is wind, the moose will smell you, — and Joe was very 
confident that he should get some. The harvest moon 
had just risen, and its level rays began to light up the 
forest on our right, while we glided downward in the 
shade on the same side, against the little breeze that 
was stirring. The lofty, spiring tops of the spruce and 
fir were very black against the sky, and more distinct 
than by day, close bordering this broad avenue on each 
side; and the beauty of the scene, as the moon rose 
above the forest, it would not be easy to describe. A 
bat flew over our heads, and we heard a few faint notes 
of birds from time to time, perhaps the myrtle-bird for 
one, or the sudden plunge of a musquash, or saw one 
crossing the stream before us, or heard the sound of a 
rill emptying in, swollen by the recent rain. About a 
mile below the island, when the solitude seemed to be 
growing more complete every moment, we suddenly saw 
the light and heard the crackling of a fire on the bank, 
and discoverd the camp of the two explorers ; they stand¬ 
ing before it in their red shirts, and talking aloud of the 
adventures and profits of the day. They were just 
then speaking of a bargain, in which, as I understood, 
somebody had cleared twenty-five dollars. We glided 
