“Look at Sebattis; what’s he sitting up that way for?” cried Davy Jones.
“Seems to be listening, fellers! Oh! I wonder what he’s heard? Is that an echo that comes stealing back from up-river way?” and Bumpus half started to clamber to his feet.
Then the six scouts remained motionless, as, with their ears on the alert for the faintest sounds, they heard an increasing answering call come stealing through the night air.
Thad reached out his hand toward where Step Hen had rested his new magazine rifle against a neighboring tree. He guessed instantly what it meant. There was no echo about that thrilling sound! Sebattis had sent out a challenge, and it must have reached the ears of a real bull moose that chanced to be within hearing; and this swelling roar that they were listening to now was his sturdy response.
Yes, it was surely a genuine moose that had answered the call; and no doubt he was even at that very minute lumbering along over the pine-covered slope, eager to accept the challenge that breathed in that strange medley of sounds!
CHAPTER VIII.
OUT FOR BIG GAME.
“Whew! so that’s a moose, is it?” gasped Giraffe, being the first to break the tense silence that had fallen upon the campers.
“What a queer old sound,” almost whispered Bumpus. “My stars! but I guess he’s most as big as our old red barn at home. Is he heading this way, Sebattis, Eli, Jim?”
Bumpus cast a despairing look around him while saying this. Thad had an idea he must be trying to pick out a desirable tree which he could “shinny up” in case the moose raided the camp; for owing to his build Bumpus was not so good at climbing as some others, Giraffe or Davy Jones for instance.
“Just now that’s what the ole duffer, he’s a-doin’,” replied Eli; while the Indian guide only nodded his head, being a man of few words usually.