204 A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



hear him talk of turning back and giving up the 

 road as impracticable. This was explained after- 

 wards. The trap belonged not to the driver, as 

 I supposed, but to our friend the Hudson Bay 

 agent. 



The woods were so dense and still, and game- 

 tracks so frequent, though most of them old, 

 that I ran on ahead of the cart until the sound 

 of its misfortunes reached me no more, and then 

 strode on, silently watching and listening, in the 

 hope that my eyes might be gladdened by the sight 

 of some of those mysterious forest beasts whose 

 tracks were all round me. At last there was a 

 regular soft footfall on the snow, and, at a turn 

 of the road, I stood face to face with a French 

 Canadian trapper coming out from an inspection 

 of his traps. It was his coat we had passed 

 earlier in the day, tossed casually in the snow by 

 the roadside. It had been there, my Indian 

 said, two or three days, and he seemed in nowise 

 surprised, except when I asked him if it was safe 

 there. ' Safe ! of course ! why should it not be ?' 

 I wondered a ^little whether my friend Jocko 

 would find it wise to leave a good coat for a 

 couple of days by an English wayside, but said 

 nothing. 



In another hour darkness was upon us, and 

 the men wanted to camp. 



