Ed took several pictures of the dam and the gnawed stumps. Then they entered the canoe and paddled upstream toward the lake. The weather was becoming colder, and a raw, piercing wind had come down out of the north. Ben thought it might snow before many hours, and the boys, eager for their first experience with snowshoes, hoped it would.
When they turned from the stream the shadows of early twilight had crept through the woods, and were reaching over the water. Ben paddled rapidly, and they were soon at the end of the lake, where the dim trail led away toward the little cabin.
Ben had lifted the canoe on his shoulders and was starting along the trail when an alarming sound came over the water from the swamp.
The guide instantly set the canoe down and straightened to listen, and the boys instinctively moved closer to his side. As they stood there the wild call was repeated. It echoed weirdly over the water, and consisted of a deep, cow-like bellow followed by several low, rumbling grunts.
“That’s a bull moose calling,” declared Ben. Then he lifted the canoe and continued into the black woods.
The lads followed closely, unable to keep from glancing over their shoulders apprehensively each time the cry was repeated. They asked Ben about the noise, and they were quite excited to learn that with a roll of birch-bark he could imitate the sound and call a moose. He promised to do this for them, and they determined to hold him to his promise.
As they stumbled along in the wake of the guide, Ed and George several times heard animals running away through the dark. They thought it wonderful that Ben was able to find and follow the trail in such darkness, and finally asked him how he did it. He laughed and declared he just followed his feet.
It was late when they eventually reached the cabin. Ben cooked a splendid supper, and they ate with the appetite of the woods. Then came the comfort of their blankets and sound sleep.