172 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



of the day he confessed to me that it had 

 made his head " heap sick " as well it might. 

 We had made four short days', or parts of 

 days' march coming up ; for we had stopped 

 to hunt, and moreover we knew nothing of 

 the country, being probably the first white 

 men in it, while none of the Indians had 

 ever ventured a long distance from the 

 lake. Returning we knew how to take the 

 shortest route, we were going down hill, 

 and we walked or trotted very fast ; and so 

 we made the whole distance in twelve hours' 

 travel. At sunset we came out on the last 

 range of steep foot-hills, overlooking the 

 cove where we had pitched our permanent 

 camp ; and from a bare cliff shoulder we saw 

 our boat on the beach, and our white tent 

 among the trees, just as we had left them, 

 while the glassy mirror of the lake reflected 

 the outlines of the mountains opposite. 



Though this was the first caribou I had 

 ever killed, it was by no means the first I had 

 ever hunted. Among my earliest hunting ex- 

 periences, when a lad, were two fruitless and 

 toilsome expeditions after caribou in the 

 Maine woods. One I made in the fall, going 

 to the head of the Munsungin River in a 

 pirogue, with one companion. The water 

 was low, and all the way up we had to drag 

 the pirogue, wet to our middles, our ankles 

 sore from slipping on the round stones under 

 the rushing water, and our muscles aching 

 with fatigue. When we reached the head- 

 waters we found no caribou sign, and came 

 back without slaying anything larger than an 

 infrequent duck or grouse. 



