TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS 193 



ledged he liked it, but Steve more than once 

 refused a tot, even after a hard day. 



It was a cold camp that night, the ground 

 was saturated, the balsam bedding dripping, 

 and the cold and damp struck up through the 

 thick waterproof sheet and two blankets. 



The following morning was perfect, a bright 

 sun shining and a cold nip in the air. 



John had packed two loads down to the Pond 

 the previous day, so we started together carry- 

 ing four loads. Track down to the Pond there 

 was none, and the ground after last night's 

 rain was soaking. The swamps were full of 

 water and the going very hard, but we had 

 only three miles to cover. On the way I 

 stalked a lot of geese, but only got a shot with 

 the rook rifle at about 150 yards and the bullet 

 fell short. Once at the lake all troubles were 

 over and I had to look forward to a comfortable 

 trip in the two Peterborough canoes lying 

 ready. Micky John was sent home. We had 

 seen a doe caribou on the way and he an- 

 nounced his intention of having a try for 

 venison. Joe was sent back to Ryan's for the 

 last light load, and Steve and John to bring up 

 the two remaining loads from last night's camp. 

 I pitched my tent and made things generally 

 shipshape till the men came back. The camp 

 was an ideal one, situated on a wooded spit of 



