146 The Wilderness Hunter. 



wilderness. At times the wind moaned harshly through 

 the tops of the tall pines and hemlocks ; at times the 

 branches were still ; but the splashing murmur of the 

 torrent never ceased, and through 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 

 forests, 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 thunderous 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 towards 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 struck so brisk a 



