TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 305 



up. There is often a fly in the best bit of amber, and 

 perhaps the saddest moment in life is the end of some- 

 thing which we would, oh, so earnestly, desire to keep 

 for ever as our own. This wild of ours, this what 

 Goethe called, " the living visible garment of God," 

 must be left behind, for we were not primeval hunters. 

 The chill, fierce winter would soon hold our glades 

 and dingles in icy grip; the face of Nature would 

 frown ; the raving of the tempest drown the murmur- 

 ous hum of the small, sweet sounds of the forest people ; 

 the snow invest the wilderness of green in cloak of 

 cruelty. The great transition was at hand. Would 

 that we might be there when the world Mother, 

 chameleon-like, took on once more the colours and 

 the grace of spring. 



Our hunt was over. Well, I had made the most of 

 it, and drank my fill without wasting a drop, and had 

 taken Omar's advice, for one never knows what lies 

 ahead. I have known disappointments before. 



Sorrowfully we broke up camp for the last time 

 for our little makeshifts on the banks of the Sushitna 

 were too insignificant to be termed camps at all said 

 farewell to the much-loved haunts, prosaically cooking 

 a terrific meal to set us well upon the way, and, having 

 packed the heads and skins aboard a couple of dories, 

 betook ourselves to bidarkas and the bosom of the 

 river. Our trophies made a rare show. Black bear, 

 caribou, Ovis dalli, and moose antlers of the most 

 magnificent description, filled our hearts with pride 

 and pleasure. 



It is one thing to fag up a river, against the stream, 



