NEWFOUNDLAND IN THE 'SEVENTIES 221 



of the Humber ; white men had invaded those 

 solitudes, and the caribou had abandoned them in 

 disgust. We made a nice camp at the north end 

 of Grand Pond at the mouth of a little stream 

 from which a faint trail, blazed some ten or perhaps 

 twenty years before by a wandering Indian, led up 

 through the pine woods to the open barren above, 

 and there we stayed for a week, during which time 

 we saw three hinds and killed one of them. The 

 flesh was welcome, for we had been living all the 

 time on beaver meat ; but what we wanted was one 

 or two of the gigantic heads for which the New- 

 foundland stags are so famous ; and as it did not 

 appear likely that we should be successful in that 

 district, we packed up for the third time, paddled 

 some ten or twelve miles down the lake, lugged our 

 tent, bedding, and cooking things up a steep hill- 

 side, and camped just on the edge of the barren, 

 about a thousand feet above the lake, determined 

 to make one more attempt. The next morning 

 my friend, accompanied by one of our Indians, 

 started in one direction, while young Joe John — 

 who had joined us for a few days — and I tried our 

 luck in another. 



It was a lovely morning as we cleared the woods 

 and emerged upon the open breezy barren. The 



