A FALL HUNTING TRIP. 91 



soon the last vestiges of civilisation, the gaunt trestle 

 bridge and the boat-house, disappeared behind us and 

 we were fairly off. I wanted to push on as far as 

 possible before dark, hoping to take advantage of the 

 good weather, for the two lakes through which our 

 course lay are often, at this season, impracticable for 

 days together for such small craft as the canoe. But 

 although the evening had settled to fine, the dark came 

 early, and soon we were obliged to camp at a spot 

 called Woody Island, which lies at the eastern end of 

 Terra Nova Lake. 



The next morning we were up before the dawn, but 

 the weather had changed during the night, and no 

 sooner were we afloat than the sky became overcast, 

 the north-west wind rose, bringing with it squalls of 

 snow, and, a much more awkward fact to face, showed 

 a tendency to veer still more to the west, a develop- 

 ment which would deprive us of the shelter of the 

 wooded northern shore, if it did not, as was likely, 

 altogether prevent our progress. In such weather the 

 big boat had the best of it, for the lop of the water 

 greatly retarded the canoe, while we, although we took 

 our share of the lake aboard, were able to make a 

 straighter course. 



At the head of the Terra Nova Lake, where Frank 

 Wells and his partner, Robert Brooking, had some traps, 

 we espied a lynx, which had dragged a trap down to the 

 sandy shore. We landed and one of the men killed it, 

 leaving it for Brooking to skin on his next rounds. We 

 passed from Terra Nova Lake into George's Pond and 

 rowed up it, hugging the shore, beneath the dense 

 forests of spruce and jumper which descend almost to 

 the water ; and sundown found us, the lake safely astern, 



