TO THE SHOE HILL COUNTRY 249 



finest caribou country he had seen in New- 

 foundland. There was, however, one great 

 difference. He had been there the end of 

 October, when all the stags had moved up. 

 It was now only the 15th September, and it 

 remained to be seen what our luck would be. 



While getting everything shipshape I found 

 my telescope sight was missing. Steve always 

 carried it slung over his shoulder and must 

 have left it behind at one of our halts. He 

 assured me it would be " all right " and that 

 he would go out at daybreak and bring it in, 

 which he did. This was the first really un- 

 comfortable day we had had — but our troubles 

 were soon forgotten, and over a roaring camp 

 fire and with a tot of rum each, we looked 

 forward hopefully to our prospects for the next 

 few days. The morning of the 16th was fine, 

 the sun was shining brightly, the glass was 

 rising, a fresh north-east wind was blowing, 

 altogether a perfect stalking day. 



The Shoe Hill Droke lay on a slight rise above 

 the Shoe Hill Lake. The droke was a general 

 camping ground for shooting and trapping 

 parties, and the remains of many camps were 

 scattered through the wood. To the north 

 lay Mount Sylvester, some seven miles 

 away, with a fine open country between; to 

 the south the view was bounded by a ridge 



