ON THE GANDER RIVER. 223 



bush near by. He wished, of course, to sell me the 

 horns, offering them for $5, and he did not at all 

 understand my refusal to buy them at that or any 

 other price. 



"But," he said, "have you not come here into the 

 middle of Newfoundland to shoot stags ? " I tried to 

 make him understand that that was precisely why I 

 would not buy, as the horns of a stag which he had 

 shot were of no value to me. The young Indian was 

 silent for a time. " Still," said he at last, " no one 

 would ever know you did not shoot this stag yourself." 

 I pointed out that one person, at any rate, would know, 

 however hard I tried to deceive him, and that he 

 happened to be a person of some importance to me. 

 "Your guide?" suggested the Indian. After I had 

 explained that I meant myself, he stared at me stolidly 

 for a minute, then said he would take the horns to 

 Glenwood and sell them at the railway there. He 

 wound up by asking me if I had shot any stags. My 

 stags were hidden under a spruce at the back of the 

 camp. I showed them to him, and, after he had 

 examined them, asked him if he would buy any of 

 them, as some were larger than the one he carried. " I 

 can shoot a stag whenever I want one," he answered, 

 rather gruffly. At last, by way of changing the con- 

 versation, I invited him to have a cup of tea. But 

 he refused, and slinging the horns on his shoulders 

 repeated that he could dispose of them at Glenwood, 

 and so, with a surly grunt, walked off out of sight. 



We remained in our fortunate camp near the Little 

 Gull River for a couple more days, but during that 

 time saw nothing save one small stag. On the third 

 day Hardy and his men rejoined us. They had met 



