NEWFOUNDLAND IN THE ^SEVENTIES 219 



depressions in the plain supporting a sparse growth 

 of junipers and dwarf pines, combined to form a 

 perfect paradise for game. But, alas ! it turned 

 out to be an empty Eden. Day after day we wore 

 out our moccasins tramping over the stony ground, 

 seeking for a sign but finding none ; day after day 

 we climbed the look-out hill and vainly swept the 

 plain with our glasses. That game had once been 

 abundant was very evident, for the plain was crossed 

 in all directions by paths worn deep into the surface 

 by the countless feet of constantly passing herds of 

 caribou, but now rapidly filling up through long 

 disuse. Patches of sun-dried clay showed footprints 

 that had been made long before our arrival ; the 

 tattered bark and broken branches of many a pine- 

 tree showed where a great stag had rubbed his horns, 

 but the scars were all old and brown ; numerous 

 horns lay scattered about in evidence of how plen- 

 tiful the deer must have been at one time, but they 

 were bleached by the sun, weather-worn and half- 

 consumed. It was plain enough that deer had once 

 frequented those plains in great numbers, but it 

 was equally certain that not a deer had visited them 

 for months. The great barrens on which we were 

 hunting — if a man can be said to be hunting when 

 there is nothing to hunt — stretch nearly right across 



