238 SPORT IN NEWFOUNDLAND 



was now falling heavily and a roaring fire and 

 cosy camp were more than welcome. 



The following morning it was still raining, 

 but more like a thick Scotch mist. We went 

 over to fetch the head, and found that the first 

 bullet had gone in just behind the ribs and 

 raked him through lungs and heart, so the 

 second shot was unnecessary. We saw a hind 

 and calf swimming in the lake, and tried to 

 overtake them to get a snapshot, but hard as 

 we both paddled I only succeeded in getting 

 within about thirty yards, too far for a good 

 photo — the light too was bad, and the result 

 was not a success. I spent the morning 

 sketching and photoing the head, and then 

 Steve set to work to skin and clean it. After 

 breakfast there was great excitement, as four 

 otters came swimming up to the rapid, possibly 

 with the idea of going up into the lake above. 

 Regardless of season and game laws, Steve 

 had a shot with the small rifle and missed, but 

 turned them back. Going out to fish I could 

 not get a rise, the otters had evidently scared 

 all the fish out of the pool. 



The clouds now cleared away and a brilliant 

 sun came out, while hardly a ripple stirred the 

 surface of the lake. In the afternoon we went 

 down again to the end of the lake, climbed 

 the highest look-out hill and stayed there till 



