160 AN OLD-TIME CARIBOU HUNT 



with a bad stitch in his side. He was a very 

 heavy man and the soft snow was telling on him. 

 He decided to turn back, and as Mr. Chinic would 

 not let him go alone, it was arranged that Mr. 

 Hamel and myself were to continue the hunt. 

 About an hour later my companion gave up also, 

 the pace and the soft walking being too much for 

 him. For my part, I was bound to see the end of 

 that trail; a North Shore hunter was not to be 

 outdone by this half domesticated animal. About 

 one p.m. the trail was very fresh and I was going 

 ahead very cautiously, when I heard a rumbling 

 sound. It was a train going east, and pretty 

 soon I heard the toot-toot of the locomotive for a 

 crossing, and then a few seconds later it dashed 

 past, a couple of hundred yards from where I 

 stood. I now felt sure that my game was gone, 

 for the moment at least, as I believed no wild 

 animal would stand such a racket without being 

 startled. Imagine my surprise, to find it quietly 

 eating about sixty yards further. I was then 

 about sixty feet from it, and I watched it for 

 some moments, pulling off and crunching a sort 

 of green moss, shaped like a large leaf that grows 

 under large leaning trees. Here was the end of 

 the trail and the rest was soon over. A shot in 

 the back of the head laid it low; it was a fine 

 large male that weighed, dressed, 185 pounds. 

 I had shot it eighty yards from the railway track. 

 I went back over the railway line, and in the 



