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 woodsman began the exciting
work of preparing his birch-bark horn, that primitive but potent trumpet
through which he would sigh, groan, grunt, and roar, imitating each
varying mood of the cow-moose.
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