202 ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



travel. The first day served to give me an object-lesson 

 as to the deception of distances on the Barrens. 



All the Indians had hunted unsuccessfully in the morn- 

 ing and returned to wood-chopping in the afternoon, and 

 I determined to venture after caribou, as I knew, with 

 this patch of timber visible from 

 any ridge within five miles or so, 

 I could not lose myself. I had 

 gone, I suppose, about six miles 

 when, by the aid of my field-glass- 

 es, I counted five caribou a couple 

 of miles away, at the edge of a 

 lake, and noted that a very strong 

 wind was blowing, and, to my good- 

 fortune, from them to me. It is 

 difficult to approach game in this 

 country, notwithstanding its vales 

 and mounds, because the caribou 

 are almost invariably viewed first 

 on a lake or at its edge, to which 

 the undulations descend in contin- 

 uous long sweeps. But I made 



a careful stalk, crawling from rock to rock and from 

 snow-drift to snow-drift, and finally reached a point be- 

 yond which there was no hope of undiscovered approach. 

 I judged I was about three hundred yards from my 

 quarry, and as they were quietly grazing broadside to me, 

 confidently counted on taking at least a couple of tongues 

 into camp. 



I raised my sight to 300 yards; a quick, steady aim, 

 and I pulled trigger for the first time on Barren Ground 

 caribou. But no caribou fell, nor was there any little puff 

 of snow to tell me I had shot over or under. Three times 

 in rapid succession, but with careful sighting, I fired at the 



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MEDICINE-MAN S NECKLACE 



