th an added
quantity for pillows. Wrapped in their blankets, for even at midsummer
these were not amiss, they hoped to sleep luxuriously.

They stored their food in as safe a spot as possible, though Pierre
said that nothing would molest it, unless it might be a hungry
hedgehog, but Adrian preferred to take no risks. Then with knives
freshly sharpened on the rocks, and the gun in hand, they cautiously
stepped into the canoe and pushed off.

"One should not jump into a birch. Easiest thing in the world to split
the bottom," its owner had explained.

Adrian had no desire to do anything that would hinder their success,
therefore submitted to his guide's dictation with a meekness that
would have amused Margot.

She would not have been amused by their undertaking nor its but
half-anticipated results. After a long and difficult warping-up the
rapids, in which Adrian's skill at using the sharp-pointed pole that
helped to keep the canoe off the rocks surprised Ricord, they reached
a dead water, with low, rush-dotted banks.

"Get her into that cove yonder, and keep still. I've brought some bark
and'll make a horn."

There, while they rested and listened, Pierre deftly rolled his strip
of birch-bark into a horn of two feet in length, small at the mouth
end but several inches wide at the other. He tied it with cedar thongs
and putting it to his lips, uttered a call so like a cow-moose that
Adrian wondered more and more.

"Hmm. I thought I was pretty smart, myself; but I'll step down when
you take the stand."

"'Sh-h-h! Don't move. Don't speak. Don't breathe, if you can help it."

Adrian became rigid, all his faculties merged in that one desire to
lose no sound.

Again Pierre gave the moose-call, and--hark! what was that? An
answering cry, a far-away crashing of boughs, the onrush of some big
creature, hastening to its mate.

Noiselessly Pierre brought his gun into position, sighting one distant
point from which he thought his prey would come. Adrian's body dripped
with a cold sweat, his hands trembled, specks floated before his
staring eyes, every nerve was tense, and, as Margot would have said,
he was a-thrill "with murder," from head to foot! Oh! if the gun were
his, and the shot!

Another call, another cry, and a magnificent head came into view. With
horns erect and quivering nostrils the monarch of that wilderness
came, seeking love, and faced his enemies.

"He's within range--shoot!" whispered Adrian.

"On