DAYS IN THE WOODS 257 



crimson leaves are so cleariy reflected on a surface 

 perfectly placid that you seem to be gliding over 

 a forest of submerged trees. Or you may indulge 

 to perfection in that most luxurious pastime — 

 doing nothing. I know a lovely place for that, 

 on a hunting-ground I used to frequent, a little 

 island of woods about a quarter of a mile from 

 camp, vnth a tall pine-tree in the middle, which 

 was kind enough to arrange its branches in such 

 a way that it was very easy to climb. Thither I 

 would go on lazy days, when tired with hunting, 

 with my gun and a book, and, leaning against its 

 friendly trunk, read till I was tired of literature, 

 and then climb up in the breezy branches and look 

 out far and wide over the barrens on either side. 

 Many a cariboo have I seen from thence, and shot 

 him after an exciting stalk out on the plain. 



Let us imagine a party of three men to burst 

 out of the thick woods on to a little open space, 

 or barren, hot and tired, about four o'clock on a 

 fine October day. Before them lies a still deep 

 reach of a little river, fringed on the near side 

 with brown alders ; on the opposite side lies a 

 piled-up ragged heap of loose grey granite blocks, 

 with one solitary dead pine-tree, stretching out its 

 gaunt, bare, shrivelled limbs against the clear sky. 



