332 BIG GAME FIELDS 



spiral way. Into the deep forests again, and 

 through the trackless reaches of sombrous spruces 

 that stood by the trail like phantoms grim and 

 tall. 



So it was on the seventh day I had my first 

 glimpse of Caribou Mountain, rising bare and 

 cold amid the purple distance, in a track of the 

 setting sun. With weary limbs we moved on and 

 upward, into the flush of the sunset, until at last 

 we made camp in a small patch of balsams, just 

 near the timber limit. 



Caribou Mountain is really a vast flat range, 

 some twenty-five miles in extent, by perhaps 

 twenty miles across. Its surroundings are high, 

 snow-covered peaks; with the exception of a lit- 

 tle scrubby willow it is for the most part devoid 

 of vegetation. Owing to the continual storms of 

 this section and dampness of the ground, its tops 

 or barrens are covered with a thick deep moss, 

 upon which the O shorn caribou are wont to feed. 

 At this time of year the stags are splendid, im- 

 pressive looking beasts, with massive antlers and 

 their long white manes tossing in the wind, while 

 there is a glint of fire in their eyes. The long- 

 legged, inquisitive fawns make a pretty picture 

 as they go trotting after the sleek cows, whose 



