A WILD EXULTANT JOY. 349 



The caribou was lying facing me, and so of 

 course saw me, as soon as my head and the 

 upper part of my body appeared above the 

 contour of the ground. He immediately rose 

 to his feet and stood staring at me. Poor 

 brute ! He was so near me that I could see his 

 eyes quite plainly, and it seemed to me that 

 they were full of a dreadful terror — the terror 

 which unnerved Macbeth at the apparition of 

 Banquo's ghost. His pain was short. One 

 glance at his horns showed me they were very 

 handsome, and in another moment I had sent a 

 bullet through his heart. He just turned half- 

 round, plunged madly forward for a few 

 yards and rolled over amongst the stones, 

 dead. 



Did I feel sorry for what I had done, it may 

 be asked ? Well ! no, I did not. Ten thousand 

 years of superficial and unsatisfying civilization 

 have not altered the fundamental nature of man, 

 and the successful hunter of to-day becomes a 

 primeval savage, remorseless, triumphant, full 

 of a wild exultant joy, which none but those 

 who have lived in the wilderness and depended 



