The Caribou 265 



prepares for a long vigil, perhaps lasting the en- 

 tire day. Oh, the weariness of it ! Afraid hardly 

 to move, every sense alert and on the strain, listen- 

 ing for the unmistakable " squash " of the deer's 

 hoof as it is drawn from mud and water, fearing 

 to smoke lest the telltale perfume announces one's 

 presence to the watchful game, and mosquitoes 

 and black flies having a merry and never end- 

 ing banquet from every exposed portion of the 

 hunter's person unless thickly covered by some 

 anti-poison abomination, pursuit (if it can be 

 called) of this deer at such times and in such 

 places cannot be considered either a pleasure or 

 within the true meaning of sportsmanship. If 

 the caribou should wander that way, and the 

 chances are ten to one it will not, a point-blank 

 shot at a few paces is afforded, requiring about as 

 much skill to bring down the quarry as it would 

 to shoot a cow in a barnyard. 



Frequently, too, even although it may be as late 

 as the middle of October, so irregular are these 

 deer in shedding the velvet from their horns, that 

 after enduring the torments of foes in the air with 

 their varied means of torture and those arising 

 from stiffened muscles and cold winds, the hunter 

 may only be rewarded by an animal carrying the 

 coveted antlers not yet come to their matured 

 perfection. But even then few complain, for the 

 vast majority of these " hunts " draw a blank, the 



