XX 



'HELD UP' BY A CARIBOU STAG 



ON a recent shooting trip, far away in the interior of Newfound- 

 land, I had an attendant guide who possessed more than local 

 fame. He was the hero of a desperate encounter with a frenzied 

 caribou stag, with which he voluntarily closed in battle armed 

 only with a hunting-knife. The story is worth telling. 



At the end of the rutting season occasional stags seem to forget 

 that they were ever afraid of man, and become really dangerous 

 should the hunter allow them past his guard. Such reckless char- 

 acters are known as ' musky ' stags, because they emit from a 

 large gland a very pungent and offensive exhalation like strong 

 musk. At this time their flesh is so nauseating as to be perfectly 

 uneatable. They roam about intermittently uttering a short, hoarse 

 bellow and a kind of snort or guttural bark, when they are apt to 

 prove troublesome customers enough to one not armed with a rifle. 



Their weapons of offence, besides the formidable antlers, are 

 their wonderful hoofs, splayed and broad-spreading at all times. 

 In the autumn the hoof becomes edged with thin layers of sharp 

 horn like broken oyster shells, a wonderful provision of Nature 

 to enable the animal to travel securely across frozen lakes and along 

 the edge of slippery rock precipices. 



It was the afternoon of one of those typical autumn days when 

 rays of sunshine, darting through the gaps between the slowly 

 driving cloud masses, flood the scene with limpid light, while next 

 moment woods and water grow grey and sombre, and big drops of 

 rin drum heavily on the bare rocks and drench the bushes with 

 moisture. Harry, the guide, with his brother Alfred, had been out 

 for venison, and now, burdened with heavy loads slung over their 

 shoulders, the two men were slowly working their way across a 

 circular savannah, from the edges of which the land undulated 

 away in a succession of flinty billows towards the sky-line. They 

 were making for one of the large lakes, on the shores of which was 

 their birch-bark wigwam and the little craft which formed their 

 only connecting link with home and civilization. 



Suddenly the well-known note of an angry ' musky ' stag reached 

 the practised ear of Harry, who gave the customary low warning 

 whistle to his companion. Both sank slowly to the ground, quickly 

 disencumbered themselves of their burdens, and proceeded to exam- 

 ine their firearms. On came the stag along a well-broken deer 



