MATING 65 



does remained behind and therefore I did not dare 

 follow the main herd. In fact one of those does with her 

 fawn started back and it certainly looked as though she 

 would pass me and so get my scent. With the utmost 

 care I crept backwards a few yards, then she turned and 

 passed in front, scarcely four yards away, walking almost 

 on the very place where I had been standing. How she 

 missed discovering me I cannot understand. While 

 watching her and her beautiful fawn, I was suddenly 

 surprised to see that many of the Caribou were returning. 

 Now I was in a predicament. If they should pass to 

 leeward all chance of securing any pictures would be at 

 an end, for of course they would go faster than I could, 

 but fortunately they turned slightly and passed on the 

 windward side. It was an irregular movement, the whole 

 herd being very much scattered ; my old friend, the white 

 doe, was as usual the leader. It seemed to me that the 

 herd had grown a great deal and that there were several 

 stags which I had not previously observed. One very fine 

 one, carrying a good head, appeared among the low trees 

 about fifty yards away. Whether or not he belonged to 

 the herd I could not tell. He stood facing them, 

 apparently much interested in each one that passed, but 

 not attempting to offer any attentions to the numerous 

 does. Nearly every one stopped a moment to scrutinize 

 him and then pass on. Suddenly there was a snort, the 

 new stag became more keenly alert, then like a shot from 

 out of the trees came the big stag, the master of the herd, 

 and almost before I could realise what was happening he 

 had struck the newcomer a frightful blow and knocked 

 him clean over. Here then was the long looked-for fight 

 for which I had waited so many years. But how could 

 I possibly take advantage of it. There were does and 



