48 NEWFOUNDLAND 



Nearly all hunters have superstitions, and on September 

 15 I discovered that neither Bob nor Jack were above this 

 pardonable weakness. 



" A' dreamed o' Mrs. Bury last night," said Jack solemnly 

 at breakfast-time. 



" Then we're sure to kill a big stag to-day," echoed 

 Saunders, with conviction. 



Questioned as to the connection between this estimable 

 lady (the wife of a storekeeper in Alexander Bay) and the 

 monarch of the woods, Saunders at once gave the requisite 

 explanation. 



"Once de ole man Stroud had been hunting fer nigh a 

 fortnight and nar a stag had he seen, till one night he seen 

 Mrs. Bury, who's a lady o' persition down our bay, sitting 

 on the top of a big stag and smilin' at 'un. Next day Stroud 

 kills a great one. Again on the same trip one o' the packers, 

 Dan Burton to name, he dreams he's bin a-talkin' to Mrs. 

 Bury, and sure 'nough Stroud's party kills 'nother big stag. 

 There's some connection 'tween the deer and dat lady, fer 

 last year Johnny here sees her in his sleep, and next day 

 Mister Selous kills the finest head I ever seen. We don't 

 really think much on Mrs. Bury, but when she comes to us 

 we're mighty glad." 



The sun was sending great fiery shafts of light across the 

 eastern sky and painting the emerald woods with crimson 

 and gold as we stepped out of the forest on this particular 

 morning. We thought ourselves out early, but a flock of 

 Canadian geese rose clamorously from an upland marsh, 

 and a pair of great northern divers were calling querulously 

 from the clouds, showing that others had been up awhile 

 before us. On a little lake up near the first spying place 

 some dusky ducks were paddling along the edge and turning 



