THE WILDERNESS 27 



from the nearest station on the Trans-Siberian 

 Railway in an open country cart over miles of 

 snow and ice, and to be ferried, cart and all, 

 across a half-frozen river at the hour of mid- 

 night. It was not what might be called 

 luxurious travel. Nor, at journey's ending, 

 was there soft luxury in the little hut of snow 

 and boughs in which I was presently enclosed 

 with my rifle and bidden to crouch till break 

 of day, not even daring to smoke for fear of 

 scaring the game. In the sequel, the game 

 showed no appreciation of my self-denial and 

 stayed away. Not a sign did I see of anything 

 more terrible than a hare, though this vast 

 Government forest is well stocked with bear, 

 elk, wolves, and other wild animals. Yet I 

 am quite as certain now as I was even in the 

 disappointment and discomfort of the moment 

 that the awakening of that far northern forest, 

 as little birds broke into song and the feeble 

 sun crimsoned the sparkling branches, more 

 than repaid me for the cold and sleepless night 

 that went before. 



Less rigorous, and even more attractive, is 

 another picture I recall of daybreak, one 

 summer's morning, in a lonely forest of New 

 Brunswick, camped on the left bank of the 

 singing Miramichi. Here, in untrodden back- 

 woods, I stayed for ten days, far from the 

 haunts of man, poling down the stream in a 



