THE CARIBOU MIGRATION 33 



enemy, man, is so near. Suddenly, however, three 

 does came along so quietly that I neither saw nor 

 heard them until they were within about twenty 

 feet, and without having seen them, I moved. Of 

 course they bolted, giving, as they went, the alarm- 

 call which aroused the sleeping herd and caused 

 them to take to their heels. 



This is a morning of mornings. The whole 

 country is a fairy land, glistening and sparkling 

 with a wonderful covering of iridescent hoar-frost. 

 The dark, oily water of the river seems doubly dark 

 as it glides along the white avenue. The edges are 

 coated with frost-covered ice, and small clusters of 

 frozen froth float slowly and silently down the river. 

 The overpowering silence is broken now and then 

 by the harsh croak of a raven or the whistling of a 

 passing duck. It is on a morning like this that one 

 appreciates to the fullest the joy of being entirely 

 alone, and yet people so often ask me if I am not 

 lonely on these solitary trips. On such a day as 

 this, loneliness is impossible. The barrens surround- 

 ing my blinds are particularly and wonderfully 

 beautiful this morning. In one part the yellow 

 grass gives a curious golden hue to the frosty 

 covering. In another the colour is pinkish-purple, 

 as richly coloured leaves shine through the frost. 

 Look which way you will the effect is different, yet 

 equally beautiful. But it is too good to last. A 

 cold wind is getting up, dark clouds are gathering 

 on the horizon, bad weather is threatening. It is 

 about noon, and even now large drops of rain are 

 spattering the paper, so I must stop writing. 

 Yesterday brought no luck. The weather became 



W.L.C. B 



