of moose-talk yet?"

"Not by a jugful!" answered Cyrus, laughing. "But tell us, Herb, how are
we to proceed to get a sight of this 'Jabberwock' alive?"

"If to-morrow night happens to be dead calm, I might try to call one
up," answered the guide. "There's a pretty good calling-place near the
south end of the lake. As this is the height of the season, we might get
an answer there. We'll try it, anyhow, if you're willing."

"Willing! I should say we are!" answered Garst. "You're our captain now,
Herb, and it's a case of 'Follow my leader!' Take us anywhere you like,
through jungles or mud-swamps. We won't kick at hardships if we can only
get a good look at his mooseship. Up to the present, except for that one
moonlight peep, he has always dodged me like a phantom."

"Are you going to be satisfied with a look?" The guide's eyes narrowed
into two long slits, on which the firelight quivered, as he gazed
quizzically down upon Cyrus. "If the moose comes within reach of our
shots, ain't anybody going to pump lead into him? Or is he to get off
again scot-free? I've got my moose for this season, and I darsn't send
my bullets through the law by dropping another, so I can't do the
shooting."

"My friends can please themselves," said the Bostonian, glancing at the
English lads. "For my own part I'll be better pleased if Mr. Moose
manages to keep a whole skin. Our grand game is getting scarce enough; I
don't want to lessen it. I once saw the last persecuted deer in a
county, after it had been badgered and wounded by men and dogs, limp off
to die alone in its native haunts. The sight cured me of bloodthirst."

"I guess 'twould be enough to cure any man," responded Herb. "And we
don't want meat, so this time we won't shoot our moose after we've
tricked him. Good land! I wouldn't like any fellow to imitate the call
of my best girl, that he might put a bullet through me. Come, boys, it's
pretty late; let's fix our fire, and turn in."

CHAPTER XVI.

MOOSE-CALLING.

Nothing was talked about among the campers on the following day but the
forthcoming 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 loneliest
extremity of the lake.

During the afternoon he took Neal and Dol with him into a grove of
poplars and birches which bordered one end of the clearing, leaving
Cyrus lounging by the camp-fire. Here the