stroke. I had a fair start before he understood the trick; but I never
turned to see how he made the bank and circled the little bay. The
splash and plunge of hoofs was fearfully close behind me as the canoe
shot through the opening; and as the little bark swung round on the
open waters of the lake, for a final splash and flourish of the
paddle, and a yell or two of derision, there stood the bull in the
inlet, still thrashing his antlers and gritting his teeth; and there I
left him.

The season of calling is a short one, beginning early in September and
lasting till the middle of October. Occasionally a bull will answer as
late as November, but this is unusual. In this season a perfectly
still night is perhaps the first requisite. The bull, when he hears
the call, will often approach to within a hundred yards without making
a sound. It is simply wonderful how still the great brute can be as he
moves slowly through the woods. Then he makes a wide circuit till he
has gone completely round the spot where he heard the call; and if
there is the slightest breeze blowing he scents the danger, and is off
on the instant. On a still night his big trumpet-shaped ears are
marvelously acute. Only absolute silence on the hunter's part can
insure success.

Another condition quite as essential is moonlight. The moose sometimes
calls just before dusk and just before sunrise; but the bull is more
wary at such times, and very loth to show himself in the open. Night
diminishes his extreme caution, and unless he has been hunted he
responds more readily. Only a bright moonlight can give any accuracy
to a rifle-shot. To attempt it by starlight would result simply in
frightening the game, or possibly running into danger.