104 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
for several minutes. We asked him what kind of 
noise he expected to hear. He said, that, if a moose 
heard it, he guessed we should find out; we should 
hear him coming half a mile off; he would come close 
to, perhaps into, the water, and my companion must 
wait till he got fair sight, and then aim just behind the 
shoulder. 
The moose venture out to the river-side to feed and 
drink at night. Earlier in the season the hunters do 
not use a horn to call them out, but steal upon them as 
they are feeding along the sides of the stream, and often 
the first notice they have of one is the sound of the 
water dropping from its muzzle. An Indian whom I 
heard imitate the voice of the moose, and also that of 
the caribou and the deer, using a much longer horn than 
Joe’s, told me that the first could be heard eight or ten 
miles, sometimes ; it was a loud sort of bellowing sound, 
clearer and more sonorous than the lowing of cattle, — 
the caribou’s a sort of snort, — and the small deer’s like 
that of a lamb. 
At length we turned up the Moosehorn, where the 
Indians at the carry had told us that they killed a moose 
the night before. This is a very meandering stream, 
only a rod or two in width, but comparatively deep, 
coming in on the right, fitly enough named Moosehorn, 
whether from its windings or its inhabitants. It was 
bordered here and there by narrow meadows between 
the stream and the endless forest, affording favorable 
places for the moose to feed, and to call them out on. 
We proceeded half a mile up this, as through a narrow, 
winding canal, where the tall, dark spruce and firs and 
arbor-vitse towered on both sides in the moonlight, form¬ 
ing a perpendicular forest-edge of great height, like the 
