AN OLD-TIME CARIBOU HUNT 153 



gradually drawing nearer, till half an hour later 

 the herd burst into view, on the inlet ice, making 

 the snow fly like miniature snow ploughs. I have 

 seen some fair herds of buffalo, elk and ante- 

 lopes, but somehow they did not make so pretty 

 a sight as these caribou, possibly owing to the dif- 

 ference in the surroundings and to the snow. There 

 were about one hundred and sixty in the herd, 

 and as soon as the last one had passed the gap at 

 the inlet the shooting began. Catching a sight of 

 the spruce trees and hearing the reports coming 

 from all quarters, the caribou bunched up on the 

 lake, the leading hunters joining in the shooting 

 as they came up in the rear. The fusilade was 

 now a continuous one. Now and then, as a cari- 

 bou dropped, others would come up and sniff at 

 it, only to meet the same fate. A rush of the herd 

 would sometimes be made, only to be turned by 

 more shots from in front of them. This would 

 have continued until the last animal was killed, 

 but for an untoward circumstance. A caribou was 

 struck by a bullet near the eye, which stunned it, 

 knocking it down. A minute or two later it re- 

 covered consciousness and got up, walking half 

 dazed and bleeding towards one of the hunters 

 stationed around the pound, one Michel Ashini, 

 a young hunter of about eighteen. Possibly 

 believing it to be more seriously wounded that 

 was his version but more probably to show off 

 his skill as a hunter and runner, he left his gun 



