CHAPTER XVI.
MOOSE-CALLING.
Nothing was talked about among the campers on the following day but theforthcoming sport of the evening--moose-calling.
Herb Heal had decided that his call should be given from the water, his"good calling-place" being an alder-fringed logon at the loneliestextremity of the lake.
During the afternoon he took Neal and Dol with him into a grove ofpoplars and birches which bordered one end of the clearing, leavingCyrus lounging by the camp-fire. Here the woodsman began the excitingwork of preparing his birch-bark horn, that primitive but potent trumpetthrough which he would sigh, groan, grunt, and roar, imitating eachvarying mood of the cow-moose. To her call he had often listened as helay for hours on a mossy bed in the far depths of the forest, learningto interpret the language of every woodland creature.
Unsheathing his hunting-knife, and selecting a sound white-birch tree,Herb carefully removed from it a piece of bark about eighteen inches inlength and six in width. This he carefully trimmed, and rolled into ahorn as a child would twist paper into a cornucopia package for sweets,tying it with the twine-like roots of the ground juniper. The taperingend of the trumpet, which would be applied to the caller's lips,measured about one inch across; its mouth measured five.
Returning to camp, Herb dipped the horn in warm water and then let itdry, saying that this would produce a mellow ring. He stoutly refusedall appeals from the boys to give them a few illustrations ofmoose-calling there and then, with a lesson in the art, declaring thatit would spoil the night's sport, and that they must first hear the callamid proper surroundings. From time to time he impressed upon them thatthey were going to engage in an expedition which required absolutesilence and clever stratagem to make it successful. He vowed to wreak awoodsman's vengeance on any fellow who balked it by shaking the boat, orby moving body or rifle so as to make a noise.
A light, humming breeze had been blowing all day; but as the afternoonwaned, it died down. The evening proved clear, chilly, and still.
"Is this a likely night for calling, Herb?" asked Cyrus anxiously,taking a survey of sky and lake from the camp-door about an hour beforethe start.
"Fine," answered Herb with satisfaction. "Guess we'll get an answersure, if there's a moose within hearing. There ain't a puff of wind tocarry our scent, and give the trick away. But rig yourselves up in allthe clothing you've got, boys; the cold, while we're waiting, may bemore than you bargain for."
The guide had a light boat on the lake, moored below the camp. At sixo'clock he seated himself therein, taking the oars in his brawny hands.Cyrus and Neal took their places in the stern; while Dol disposed ofhimself snugly in the bow, right under a jack-lamp which Herb hadcarefully trimmed and lit. But he had closed its sliding door, which,being padded with buckskin, could be opened and shut without a sound, sothat not a ray of light at present escaped.
"Moose won't stand to watch a jack as deer do," he said. "Twill onlyscare 'em off. They're a heap too cute to be taken in by an onnaturalbig star floating over the water. But 'taint the lucky side of the moonfor us. She'll rise late, and her light'll be so feeble that it wouldn'tshow us an elephant clearly if he was under our noses. So if I succeedin coaxing a bull to the brink of the water, I'll open the jack, andflash our light on him. He'll bolt the next minute as quick as greasedlightning on skates; but if you only get a short sight of him, I promisethat 'twill be one you'll remember."
"And if he should take a notion to come for us?" said Cyrus.
"He won't, if we don't fire. The boat will be lying among the blackshadows, snug in by the bank, and he'll see nothing but the dazzlinglight. But you fellows must keep still as death. Off we go now, boys,and mum's the word!"
This was almost the last sentence spoken. Not a syllable moved the lipsof any one of the four, as the boat glided away from camp towards thesouth end of the lake, the oars making scarcely a sound as Herb handledthem. By and by he ceased rowing for an instant, took his pipe from hismouth, knocked out its ashes, and put it in his pocket with a wise lookat his companions, murmuring, "Don't want no tobacco incense floatingaround!"
At the same time, from a distant ridge upon the eastern shore, coveredwith evergreens which stood out like dark steeples against the eveningsky, came a faint, dull noise, as if some belated woodsman was driving ablunt axe against a tree. The sound itself would scarcely have awakeneda hope of anything unusual in the minds of the inexperienced; but,combined with the guide's aspect as he pocketed his pipe, it made Cyrusand his comrades sit suddenly erect, listening as if ears were the onlyorgans they possessed.
The queer, dull noise was once repeated. Then again there was silencealmost absolute, Herb's oars moving with the softest swish imaginable,as the boat skimmed along the lonely, curved bay which he had chosen fora calling-place. It came to a stop amid shadows so dense and black thatthey seemed almost tangible, close to a bank fringed with overhangingbushes, having a background of evergreens. These last, in thefast-gathering darkness, looked like a sable array of mourners in whoseranks a pale ghost or two mingled, the spectres being slim white-birchtrees.
The opposite bank presented a similar scene.
It was amid such surroundings that Neal Farrar heard for the second timein his life the weird sound of the moose-hunter's call. He was a strong,well-balanced young fellow; yet here again he knew the sensation as ifneedles were pricking him all over, which he had felt once before inthese wilds, while his heart seemed to be performing athletic sports inhis body.
Cyrus and Dol confessed afterwards that they were "all shivers andgoose-flesh" as the call rose upon the night air.
After he had shipped his oars, and laid them down, Herb Heal noiselesslyturned his body to face the bow, and took up the birch-bark horn whichlay beside him. He breathed into it anxiously once or twice, thenpaused, drew in all the air which his big lungs could contain, put thetrumpet again to his lips with its mouth pointing downward, and beganhis summons.
The first part of the call lasted half a minute, or so, without a break.During its execution the hunter moved his neck and shoulders first tothe left, then to the right, and slowly raised the horn above his head,the rolling, plaintive sounds with which he commenced gathering powerand pitch with the ascending motion. As the birch trumpet pointedstraight upward, they seemed to sweep aloft in a surging crescendo, andboom among the tree-tops.
Carrying his head again to the left and right, Herb gradually loweredthe horn until it was once more pointed towards the bottom of the boat,having in its movements described in the air a big figure of eight. Thecall sank with it, and died away in a lonely, sighing, quavering grunt.
Two seconds' pause, two slow, great throbs of the boys' hearts, so loudthat they threatened to burst the stillness.
Then the call began again, low and grumbling. Again it rose, swelled,quavered, and sank, full of lonely longing.
A third time it surged up, and ended abruptly in a wild, ear-splittingroar, which struck the tops of distant hills, and rolled off inthunder-like echoes among them.
Silence followed. Not a gasp came from Herb after his efforts. Cyrus andthe Farrars tried to still their heaving chests, while each quick breathwas an expectation.
An answer! Surely it was an answer! The boys never doubted it; thoughthe responding sound they caught was only a repetition of that far-awaychopping noise, which resembled the heavy thud of an axe against wood.This came nearer--nearer. It was followed once by a sort of short, sharpbark.
Then the motionless occupants of the boat heard random, guttural grunts,a smashing of dead branches, crashing of undergrowth, and the proud ringof mighty antlers against the trees. The lord of the forest, a bigbull-moose, was tearing recklessly through the woods towards the lake,in answer to the call of his imaginary mate.
To say that the hearts of our trio were performing gymnastic featsduring these awfully silent minutes of waiting, is to say little. Allthe repressed motion of their bodies seemed concentrated in theseorgans, which raced, leaped, stop
ped short, and pounded, vibrating tosuch questions as:--
"Will he come? Where shall we first see him? How near is he now? Does hesuspect the trick? Will he give us the slip after all?--_Has he gone_?"
For of a sudden dead stillness reigned in the forest. No more trampling,grunting, and knocking of antlers. The spirits of the three sank tozero. Their breathing became thick. The blood, which a moment before hadplayed like wildfire in their veins, now stirred sluggishly as if it wasfreezing. Disappointment, blank and bitter, shivered through them fromneck to foot.
So passed quarter of an hour. A filmy mist rose from the surface of thewater, and drifted by their faces like the brushing of cold wings. Forlack of motion hand and feet felt numb. Mid the pitch-black shadows,snug in by the bank, no man could see the face of his fellow, though thetrio would have given a fortune to read their guide's. Not a word wasspoken. Once, when a deep breath of impatience escaped him, Neal heardthe folds of his coat rub each other, and clenched his teeth to stop anexclamation at the sound, which he had never noticed before.
Nearly twenty minutes had elapsed since the last noise had been heard inthe woods, when Herb took up the horn which he had laid down, and putit to his mouth. Again the call rolled up. It was neither loud nor longthis time, ending with a quick, short roar.
As it ceased the guide plunged his arm into the water and slowlywithdrew it, letting drops dribble from his fingers.
The novices could only suspect that this manoeuvre was another lure forthe bull-moose, if he chanced to be still within hearing. Its successtook their breath away.
The wary bull which had answered, having doubtless harbored a suspicionthat all was not exactly right with the first call, had halted in hison-coming rush, with head upreared, and nostrils spread, trying to catchany taint in the air which might warn him of danger. But in the deadcalm the heavy evergreens stirred not; no whiff reached him. The secondcall upset his prudence. Then he heard that splash and dribble in thewater, and imagined that his impatient mate was dipping her nose intothe lake for a cool drink.
A snort! A bellowing challenge quite indescribable! On he came againwith a thundering rush!
Bushes were thrashed and spurned by his sharp hoofs. Branches snapped.Trees echoed as his antlers struck them.
A musk-rat leaped from the bank ahead, and dived to reach his hole inthe bank. Under cover of the noisy splash which the little creaturemade, one whisper was hissed by Herb's tongue into the ears of hiscomrades. It was:--
"Gee whittaker! he's a big one! Listen to them shovels against thetrees!"
A minute later, with a deep gulp of intense excitement, and a generalracket as if an engine had broken loose from brakes and checks, and wascarrying all before it, the monarch of the woods crashed through thealders and halted, with his hoofs in the water, scarcely thirty yardsfrom where the boat lay in shadow.
This was a supreme moment for our travellers. Leaning forward, fearfullest their heart-beats should betray them, they could barely distinguishthe outlines of the moose, as he stood with his enormous nose high inair, giving vent to deep gulps and grunts, and looking to right and leftin bewilderment for that cow which he had heard calling.
For fully five minutes he stood thus, badly puzzled, now and againstamping a hoof, and scattering spray in rising wrath. Then Herb bentforward, shot out a long arm, and silently opened the jack.
Meteor-like its silver light flashed forth, to reveal a sight whichcould never be wiped from the memories of the beholders, though itaffected each of them differently.
Herb Heal involuntarily gripped the loaded rifle which lay besidehim,--he was too wary a woodsman to be unprepared for emergencies; buthe did not cock it, for he remembered the law, and the bargain which hehad made about to-night.
Cyrus's eyes gleamed like fires in a face pale from eagerness, as hestrove in a minute of time to take in every feature of the monsterbefore him, from hoof to horn.
Neal sat as if paralyzed.
Dol--well, Dol lost his head a bit. A deep, throaty gulp, which was aweak reproduction of the sound made by the moose, as if the boy and theanimal were sharing the same throes of excitement, burst from him. Therewas a rattle and struggle of his vocal organs, which in another secondwould have become a shout, had not Herb's masterful left hand grippedhim. Its touch held in check the speech which Dol could no longercontrol.
The moose was a big one, "about as big as they grow," as the guideafterwards declared. Under the jack-light he looked a regular behemoth.He must have been over seven feet high at the shoulders, for he wastaller than the tallest horse the boys had ever seen. His black manebristled. His antlers were thrown back. His great nose, with its dilatednostrils, looked as if it were drinking in every scent of the nightworld. His eyes had a green glare in them, as for ten seconds he gazedat the strange light which had suddenly burst into view, its silverradiance so dazzling him that he saw not the screened boat beneath.
At the rash noise which Dol made his ears twitched. He splashed a stepforward as if to investigate matters, seeing which, Herb held hisWinchester in readiness to fly to his shoulder at a moment's notice. Butthe moose evidently regarded the jack-lamp as a supernatural, terriblephenomenon. He shrank from it as man might shrink beneath a flamingheaven.
With one more despairing look right and left for that phantom cow whichhad deluded him, he wheeled around, and crashed back into the forest,tearing away more rapidly than he came.
"He's off now, and Heaven knows when he'll stop!" said Herb, breakingthe weird spell of silence. "Not till he reaches some lair where nary acreature could follow him. Well, boys, you've seen the grandest game onthis continent, the king o' the woods. What do you think of him?"
All tongues were loosened together. There was a general shifting ofcramped bodies, accompanied by a gust of exclamations.
"He was a monster!"
"He was a behemoth!"
"Oh! but you're a conjurer, Herb. How on earth did you give such afetching call?"
"I could never have believed that those sounds came from a human throatand a birch-bark horn, if I hadn't been sitting in the boat with you!"
When there was a break in the excited chorus, Herb, without answeringthe compliments to his calling powers, asked quietly,--
"Didn't you think we'd lost him, boys, when he stopped short in themiddle of his rush, and you heard nothing?"
"We just did," answered Cyrus. "That was the longest half-hour I everput in. What made him do it?"
"I guess he was kind o' criticising my music," said the guide, laughing."Mebbe I got in a grunt or two that wasn't natural, and the old boywasn't satisfied with his sweetheart's voice. He was sniffing the air,and waiting to hear more. But 'twasn't more 'n twenty minutes before Igave the second call, though no doubt it seemed longer to you. A manmust be in good training to get the better of a moose's ears and nose."
"I'm going to get the better of them before I leave these woods!" criedDol, who was still puffing and gasping with intense excitement. "I'lllearn to call up a moose, if I crack my windpipe in doing it."
"Hurrah for the Boy Moose-Caller!" jeered Cyrus, with a teasing laugh,which Neal echoed.
But Herb Heal, who had from the beginning regarded "the kid of the camp"with favor, suddenly became his champion.
"Don't let 'em down you, Dol," he said. "I hate to hear a youngster, ora man, 'talk fire,' as the Injuns say, which means _brag_, if he's acoward or a chump; but I guess you ain't either. Here we are at camp,boys! I tell you the home-camp is a pleasant sort of place, afteryou've been out moose-calling!"
Thereupon ensued loud cheers for the home-camp, the boys feeling thatthey were letting off steam, and atoning for that long spell of silence,which had been a positive hardship. In the midst of an echoing hubbubthe boat was hauled up and moored, and the party reached their logshelter.
Camp and Trail: A Story of the Maine Woods Page 17