174 A BLACK BEAR HUNT 



triumphantly the green side of some waterspout. Daily before 

 the onward path callow broods of trout-eating mergansers or shell 

 ducks beat the water into yeast as they flee along the surface, as if 

 Justice were pursuing them for the murder of untold innocents, 

 while big drab herons flap lazily in advance as rounding the points 

 new vistas are opened up, or with a harsh cry black duck disturbed 

 by our presence rise from the reeds on the wing. 



At one time the stream is like a narrow canal moving with smooth 

 yet swift current between high sombre walls of spruce and hemlock. 

 Soon a rampart of rock bastions seems to stretch clear across stream 

 from bank to bank, till a narrow defile splits the steep Laurentian 

 rocks into a gorge through which the river roars and rages in white 

 fury. Sometimes it happens that even the skilful efforts of the 

 Indians fail to overcome a rapid where hissing waters chafe the 

 base of some precipitous hillside. There a portage becomes neces- 

 sary ; but one hardly regrets relaxing stiff limbs along the straggling 

 portage path for a brief interval. 



Late on the third day we came to a round lake encircled with 

 a fine growth of deciduous trees, having for a background an amphi- 

 theatre of romantic hills. Here is the lovely cradle of the Nepisiquit 

 River. Wading the shallows of the lake a moose bull, cow, and 

 April calf were surprised while busily feeding on the roots of the 

 yellow lily. Doubtless they had sought the water to evade the 

 clouds of flies which were in this vicinity a plague of full Egyptian 

 quality. The gambols of the calf were highly amusing. When 

 making off, at times apparently fatigued by the swimming, it 

 rested its forelegs on the hindquarters of its dam. On reaching 

 the shore it flung up its heels like a colt, and for many moments 

 after the others had disappeared in the bush it remained boldly 

 staring at us, as if wondering what its seniors saw in such insignifi- 

 cant-looking bipeds to be alarmed about. 



It was a serene evening as the light bark canoe came gliding 

 down over alternate ' steadies ' and ' rattles ', skilfully guided by 

 occasional silent touch of the paddle, while I kept a sharp look- 

 out in the bow. ' Never seed so much " works," ' whispers Noel, as 

 we survey a grove of cherries showing clean white wood torn by the 

 early morning feeding. Mile after mile we slip pleasantly down 

 stream, now among an archipelago of lovely little islands, splitting 

 the fretted stream into a dozen branches rippling shallow over golden 

 pebbles ; now apparently in a lake hemmed in by tree-covered 

 banks ; while far in the background the silhouette of a blue sierra 

 of cloudlike mountains is printed against the roseate evening sky. 



At last a low whistle from Noel warns me that he has seen 

 game. Ah ! there is a rustling among the branches then a tran- 



