A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE 323 



the Rockies, on the plains bordering the Red 

 River of the south, and among the Bad Lands 

 through which the Little Missouri flows. The 

 Tourilli Club is an association of Canadian 

 and American sportsmen and lovers of the 

 wilderness. The land, leased from the govern- 

 ment by the club, lies northwest of the at- 

 tractive Old World city of Quebec — the most 

 distinctive city north of the Mexican border, 

 now that the Creole element in New Orleans 

 has been almost swamped. The club holds 

 about two hundred and fifty square miles along 

 the main branches and the small tributaries of 

 the Saint Anne River, just north of the line that 

 separates the last bleak farming land from the 

 forest. It is a hilly, almost mountainous region, 

 studded with numerous lakes, threaded by rapid, 

 brawling brooks, and covered with an unbroken 

 forest growth of spruce, balsam, birch and 

 maple. 



On the evening of the day I left Quebec I 

 camped in a neat log cabin by the edge of a 

 little lake. I had come in on foot over a rough 

 forest trail with my two guides or porters. 

 They were strapping, good-humored French 

 Canadians, self-respecting and courteous, whose 

 attitude toward their employer was so much 

 like that of Old World guides as to be rather in- 



