Hunting in the Selkirks 173 



it came other sounds the clatter of huge rocks 

 falling down the cliffs, the dashing of cataracts 

 in far-off ravines, the hooting of owls. Again, the 

 breeze would shift, and bring to my ears the ringing 

 of other brooks and cataracts and wind-stirred for- 

 ests, and perhaps at long intervals the cry of some 

 wild beast, the crash of a falling tree, or the faint 

 rumble of a snow avalanche. If I listened long 

 enough, it would almost seem that I heard thunder- 

 ous voices laughing and calling to one another, and 

 as if at any moment some shape might stalk out of 

 the darkness into the dim light of the embers. 



Until within a couple of days of turning our faces 

 back toward the lake we did not come across any 

 caribou and saw but a few old signs ; and we began 

 to be fearful lest we should have to return without 

 getting any, for our shoes had been cut to ribbons 

 by the sharp rocks, we were almost out of flour, 

 and therefore had but little to eat. However, our 

 perseverance was destined to be rewarded. 



The first day after reaching our final camp, we 

 hunted across a set of spurs and hollows but saw 

 nothing living; yet we came across several bear 

 tracks, and in a deep, mossy quagmire, by a spring, 

 found where a huge silver-tip had wallowed only 

 the night before. 



Next day we started early, determined to take a 

 long walk and follow the main stream up to its 

 head, or at least above timber line. The hunter 



