CAKIBOO HUNTING. 137 



piercingly cold and frosty days towards the close of 

 November, when our party, consisting of us two and our 

 attendant Indian, the faithful John Williams, (than 

 whom a more artful hunter or more agreeable companion 

 in camp never stepped in mocassin) arrived at the little 

 town of Windsor, at the head of the basin of Minas, 

 whence embarking in a small schooner, we were to cross 

 to the opposite side to hunt the cariboo in the neighbour- 

 hood of Parsboro'. The distance across was but a matter 

 of thirty miles or so, and with light hearts we stepped on 

 board, and stowed our camping apparatus, bags of pro- 

 visions, blankets and rifles in the hold of the "Jack 

 Easy,'' when presently the rapidly ebbing tide bore us 

 swiftly down the course of the Avon into the dark- 

 coloured waters of the arm of the Bay of Fundy. 



The first part of the voyage was pleasant enough ; a 

 light though freshening breeze from the eastward filled 

 the sails ; and we swept on with the surging tide of red 

 mud and water past the great dark headland of Blomidon 

 with its snow-streaked furrows and crown of evergreen 

 forest, enjoying both our pipes and the prospect, and 

 recalling the various interesting traditions of this famed 

 location of the old Acadians whose memory has been so 

 beautifully perpetuated by Longfellow. But on leaving 

 the cape and standing across the open bay, we soon 

 encountered a rougher state of aflairs. The dark murky 

 clouds now commenced discharging a heavy fall of damp 

 snow, which froze upon everything as soon as it fell, 

 rendering the process of reefing, which had become neces- 

 sary from the increasing breeze, very difficult of accom- 

 plishment. The sheets were coated with a film of ice, 

 and frozen stiffly in the blocks, and the deck became so 



