KILLING THE CARIBOU 39 



water accumulated by weeks of rain ; up to our very- 

 knees in mud sometimes, slipping, falling and stum- 

 bling over cedar roots, climbing over and under wind- 

 falls, until we reached an old lumber camp, which the 

 guide thought it his duty to investigate. No Maine 

 guide can pass an old camp for the first time without 

 taking a look in to see if anything has been left that 

 he can make use of. Before he reached the buildings 

 three deer, one of them a big buck, jumped out of 

 some raspberry bushes and bounded away over the 

 creek and into the woods beyond. 



I started for them and stalked them for nearly an 

 hour, until I came within shooting distance of the 

 does ; but although I heard the buck I could not get 

 my eyes upon him, and the does I did not want ; so I 

 returned to the road. We now had a journey of three 

 and a half miles over a road probably as bad as could 

 be found anywhere; that is, if mud, water, alders, 

 alder roots, cedar roots, windfalls and slippery rocks 

 could make it so. There's an end to all things, how- 

 ever, and the road finally led us to a landing on the 

 brook where a large number of logs were left high 

 and dry from the last drive. Some of them, in fact, 

 looked as if they had been there for years. There 

 were probably half a million feet in and near this 

 spot. We crossed the brook and found a logging road 

 which we followed for a mile or more, but saw no 

 signs of a dam. We heard an occasional deer crack- 



