CHAPTER IX 



A VARIETY OF SHOOTING AND FISHING INCIDENTS 



Weaving spiders, come not here ; 

 Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence 



Midsummer Night's Dream 



Come on, poor babe, 



Poor thing, condemn'd to loss 



Winter's Tale 



IN the days of my youth I was expected to make 

 myself familiar with the philosophies of a wise old 

 gentleman, one Thales of Miletus, and among the 

 aphorisms which he scattered about his writings like 

 the pebbles of Little Poucet, I remember this, 

 " Water is the beginning of all things." I wonder 

 if Thales had been exploring in Alaska, and pene- 

 trated the sleughs and barren lands fringing the 

 coast line in some parts. Water is certainly the be- 

 ginning of all things there, the end too, very often. 

 The sea and rivers meet, intersecting the land, and 

 one may try sleugh after sleugh and not find fresh 

 water for the kettle. 



The Leader and I had four days' hunting amid a 

 scene of desolation which would have been hard to 

 beat anywhere, and the Lily, meanwhile, took Cecily 

 and Ralph onwards to a bay famous for its bears. 



We decided to try our luck on this bit of Never- 



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