212 HUNTING IN THE ARCTIC 



left and rounded knolls on the right, took us through an 

 abandoned beaver dam which was very soft and swampy 

 in places where we broke through the thin ice. Our 

 track then led over the brow of the rounded knolls to the 

 right, from which we spied more moose directly on our 

 way, and down into the green timber by the Killey River. 

 The whole trail was blockaded by windfalls of burned 

 spruce trees, so that every three or foiu* paces, on the 

 average, we were obliged to step from one to three feet 

 high to get over the obstructions. Toward the end of our 

 eighteen-mile tramp this became extremely wearisome 

 and we were all glad to arrive late in the afternoon at a 

 little cabin on the banks of Benjamin Creek just above 

 its confluence with the Killey River. 



Quickly a roaring fire was built of the many dead logs 

 lying about, and we warmed and dried ourselves as best 

 we could. Forked stakes were driven into the ground 

 at each side of the fire, a green log laid across them, hooks 

 manufactured from the crotches of trees, pots and pans 

 brought out, and in a short time we were enjoying a 

 simple but welcome meal. 



Porcupines had gnawed great holes in the corners of 

 this cabin, but we stuffed them up somehow, tacked a 

 piece of cloth over the glassless window, spread the floor 

 with freshly cut spruce boughs and all lay down to a 

 dreamless sleep side by side on the floor of the cabin. 

 There was barely room for the four of us, after we had 

 cleared out all the debris which littered it when we 

 arrived. But it was many times easier to occupy the 

 rough and imperfect little house than to set up a tent. 



We were now deep down in the gorge of the Killey 

 River, surrounded on all sides, except the west, whither 

 the stream flowed, by mountains nearly a mile high. 



