126 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



haunts. The man worms his way round the thicket, 

 sighting the game with the noiseless circling of a hawk 

 &quot;before the drop. An ear blinks. But at that instant 

 the jay perks his head to one side with a curious look 

 at this strange object on the ground. In another sec 

 ond it will be off with a call and the moose up. 



His rifle is aimed ! 



A blinding swish of aspen leaves and snow and 

 smoke ! The jay is off with a noisy whistle. And the 

 trapper has leather for moccasins, and heavy filling 

 for his snow-shoes, and meat for his larder. 



But he must still get the fine filling for heel and 

 toe; and this comes from caribou or deer. The deer, 

 he will still hunt as he has still hunted the moose, with 

 this difference: that the deer runs in circles, jumping 

 back in his own tracks leaving the hunter to follow a 

 cold scent, while it, by a sheer bound five eight 

 twenty feet off at a new angle, makes for the hiding 

 of dense woods. No one but a barbarian would attempt 

 to run down a caribou; for it can only be done by the 

 shameless trick of snaring in crusted snow, or inter 

 cepting while swimming, and then butchery. 



The caribou doesn t run. It doesn t bound. It 

 floats away into space. 



One moment a sandy-coloured form, with black 

 nose, black feet, and a glory of white statuary above 

 its head, is seen against the far reaches of snow. The 

 next, the form has shrunk and shrunk and shrunk, 

 antlers laid back against its neck, till there is a van 

 ishing speck on the horizon. The caribou has not been 

 standing at all. It has skimmed out of sight; and if 

 there is any clear ice across the marshes, it literally 



