Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-01-02


His Huge Muzzle Was Thrust Straight Out
as if He Was About % Roar a Challenge. ~f~~
might git him, an then again we mightn't; but 1
reckon we can't do better than try to call him to-
night after moonrise
'Right!' said Baker.
WHEN at last the tiny campfire had died to a
/" few white ashes and the half-dark of a cloud
less night had fallen, STILL and chill and family
sweet With damp, tonic scents of spruce bayberry,
and bracken,-the two silent men rose and noise
lessy launched their canoe. There was that in the
air which spoke of frost before morning. 1t wanted
nearly an hour of moonrise.
There hurry, SO Neville Baker did not
paddle. He lounged in the bow of the canoe, with
his rifle between his knees and watched with quiet
eyes the vide unstirring world of the night SO in
expressibly desolate yet, he knew, so populous
with unseen, furtive fe,-hunting and hunted ;
There was no sound except now and then elfish
gurgle from under the prov, hushed swirl
from about the throat of Uncle Adams stealthy
tanning paddle.
They pushed ashore through tange of lily leaves
and dense patch of water arum in cove below the
point, pulled up the canoe, and felt their way
llousiy Though Tie wet II1ngeS OF undeISIOWtn
Coming upon lumber trail which the guide knew
they followed it single file without a word or a
sound, stealthiest and most crafty providers of all
preylng kindred. Then, arriving at covert of young
balsam fir, from beneath whose dark and sweeping
branches they could command a close view of the
sandspit they settled themselves to wait,-to wait
and watch with that exhaustless patience, that Wig
lance, alert yet immobile which is of the hard
est essentials of woodcraft to acquire.
Close to Uncle Adams hand lay the big horn of
rolled birchbark by aid of which he was going to
call chat is, to initiate the hoarse summons of
the moose to her mate). For the present. how
ever, he made move to put his delusive art into
practice He would give time for the forest to forget
the coming OF the and the passage of the trail
For perhaps ten or fifteen minutes there not
movement whisper behind the ambush of the
balsam fls II. tne stiffness the shy wood mice re-
assured, cat and resumed their play with
falrythln SqueakS and almost inaudible patteringS
and rustllngs over the dry carpet of fir needles.
A T last above the flat black horizon beyond the
lower end of the lake came the first pale glow of
moonrise. Uncle Adam lifted the brchbark horn to
his lips and breathed through it Deep bleating
call grotesque and wild yet carrying an ndescrib-
able appeal if it the voice of all the longing of
all the wldernesses. Twice he sounded the uncouth
CALL and then he waited.
Neville Baker, motioness his back against tree
thrilled with exquisite expectancy. Many time
before had he been at calling; but the tense
mystery of it never failed him. He knew that when
one called moose he never knew what might come.
1t might, of course. be the expected bull his lofty
antlered head thruStlng out the dark of
the bushes while his burning eyes stared about in
search of the mate that had called him. In that case,
he would perhaps feel vaguely that he had been de-
celved and fade back soundessly into the darkness;
or taking it into his head that another bull had fore