164 ' HELD UP ' BY A CARIBOU STAG 



' Tucking bushes ' are peculiar to the sub-Arctic regions of 

 America. They are simply stunted spruce and fir trees, and are 

 matted together so compactly as to sustain the weight of a man, who 

 can walk upright over them as if treading on the shields of an 

 unbroken Greek phalanx. No ray of sunlight can penetrate their 

 dark recesses, but it is possible for a man to crawl about among 

 their twisted stems and obtain shelter from some driving storm, 

 or, as in this present instance, from some menacing and formidable 

 antagonist. 1 



Over the interlaced tops of the shaggy ' tucking bushes ' the 

 bellowing stag strode fiercely, sinking through at almost every step, 

 and vainly seeking to get within striking distance of the intended 

 victims of his fury. The men, after awhile, both became badly 

 tangled up in the dense cover. Nothing daunted, however, they 

 essayed to pick out the rain-saturated powder as well as they were 

 able from the nipples of the gun and put on fresh caps. This 

 done, they once more fired at the stag, but the weapons again failed 

 to explode. 



The situation of the two hunters now became desperate in the 

 extreme. Their adversary, by his keen sense of scent, could easily 

 discover their whereabouts, although they were hidden among the 

 roots of the bushes, and soon it seemed inevitable that he would 

 stamp out their lives with his sharp hoofs. 



Seeing the imminence of their peril they established a mutual 

 understanding that, whenever the stag approached closely to one 

 of the men, the other would explode a percussion-cap, where- 

 upon the enraged beast would turn his attention in the direc- 

 tion of the new sound. The animal was thus kept going to and 

 fro like a shuttlecock off a pair of racquets. At last, however, 

 having exploded all their caps, the desperate men felt that they were 

 drawing towards the end of their tether. What was to be done ? 



The assaults of the stag were continued with unabated vigour, 

 and every moment the brothers expected to feel his hoofs penetrating 

 the bushes and crushing out their lives. Presently Alfred, hard 

 pressed by the stag, made a run of about fifty yards to a juniper tree 

 in the open, up which he clambered in hot haste. This tree has 

 fantastic feathery branches, which, at a little distance, give it an 

 outline curiously like a Chinese pagoda or leaning tower. In this 

 instance the resemblance was heightened by the fact that the tree 

 was not quite upright, but leaned over at a noticeable angle. To 

 the horror of both men, as Alfred climbed higher to avoid the blows 

 from the forefeet of the stag delivered with lightning-like rapidity 



1 It is a curious fact that the main stems of many of these dwarfed 

 trees, upwards of thirty years old, do not exceed one inch in diameter. 



