Indian, who is an arrant coward, to look out for this very carefully.

The trumpet with which the calling is done is simply a piece of birch
bark, rolled up cone-shaped with the smooth side within. It is fifteen
or sixteen inches long, about four inches in diameter at the larger,
and one inch at the smaller end. The right hand is folded round the
smaller end for a mouthpiece; into this the caller grunts and roars
and bellows, at the same time swinging the trumpet's mouth in sweeping
curves to imitate the peculiar quaver of the cow's call. If the bull
is near and suspicious, the sound is deadened by holding the mouth of
the trumpet close to the ground. This, to me, imitates the real sound
more accurately than any other attempt.

So many conditions must be met at once for successful calling, and so
warily does a bull approach, that the chances are always strongly
against the hunter's seeing his game. The old bulls are shy from much
hunting; the younger ones fear the wrath of an older rival. It is only
once in a lifetime, and far back from civilization, where the moose
have not been hunted, that one's call is swiftly answered by a savage
old bull that knows no fear. Here one is never sure what response his
call will bring; and the spice of excitement, and perhaps danger, is
added to the sport.

In illustration of the uncertainty of calling, the writer recalls with
considerable pride his first attempt, which was somewhat startling in
its success. It was on a lake, far back from the settlements, in
northern New Brunswick. One evening, late in August, while returning
from fishing, I heard the bellow of a cow moose on a hardwood ridge
above me. Along the base of the ridge stretched a bay with grassy
shores, very narrow where it entered the lake, but broadening out to