Newfoundland 



way, by a trail known to the Micmac, who used 

 it in his autumn hunts, was all against collar, 

 through woods and rock-strewn canyons, the 

 hardest of going. We stuck to it steadily for 

 two hours, when I called a halt, suggesting lunch. 

 I was not so ravenously hungry as all that, but 

 I needed a rest badly, being frightfully out of 

 condition, and so inexperienced in packing 

 that though my load was of the slightest 

 description, consisting merely of my rifle and 

 bedding, it seemed to weigh a ton. 



Then we started afresh to make the camping- 

 place. I was wearing a pair of shooting-boots, 

 with nails in the soles they were heavy, besides 

 being wet through in two minutes. Pat had on 

 sealskin mocassins reaching to his knees, which 

 I envied. He had an extra pair that I purchased 

 from him and used throughout the trip, much to 

 my satisfaction and comfort. 



A steep dip, and we found ourselves on the 

 banks of a small river with a clearing of some 

 twenty square yards. Packs were thrown off 

 tired backs, axes taken up, and in ten minutes 

 Johnny had cut down as many spruce poles, 

 lopped off the branches, and brought armfuls 

 of the latter to where I was standing. I looked 

 on, for the simple reason that, in those days, I 

 did not know how to help, and should only have 

 been, like the clown in the circus, " in the way." 



Pat was busy with the fire. He cut two short 



9 



