ON THE GANDER RIVER. 225 



highways along which generations of caribou had 

 wandered wound among the trees, but hardly a recent 

 track was printed upon them. The weather was exceed- 

 ingly warm, the black flies a distinct nuisance, and very 

 obviously the autumn migration had not commenced. 

 In fact, we learned afterwards that the mass of caribou 

 did not move south that year until well on in the month 

 of October, a fact doubtless due to the prolonged fall 

 and the very hot weather. 



But our enthusiasm was to receive a spur, for passing 

 through a strip of thickly-growing spruce, first one and 

 then another of our party picked up cast antlers of great 

 size and weight. These had probably been shed during 

 many and various seasons, but, even so, the very fact 

 that we found horns of such strong growth, bearing 

 from twenty-one to twenty-four points each, made us 

 hopeful of meeting in the flesh the giants that had 

 formerly carried them. 



Towards evening we made our camp in a little drogue 

 of spruces which formed a landmark for several miles 

 round, and the next morning, leaving Sweetapple to his 

 work in the camp, Hardy and Bob and Jack and I set 

 out in different directions. By evening, on our return, 

 we had sighted thirty-two does and one stag of about 

 twenty-five points, while our comrades had seen thirteen 

 does and a single poor stag. 



It must be acknowledged that the time we spent on 

 the high ground, though exceedingly enjoyable, was 

 far from successful, only five stags being seen during 

 our whole stay, two of them on our way back to the 

 river. Hardy spied the best of these, and generously 

 insisted that I should go after it. However, I was only 

 in time to see it dash away while I was stiU at some 



H.C. Q 



