MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 73 



A small figure was standing on the shore throwing stones 

 into the river, and shouting various nondescript calls as we 

 approached, and I presently saw it was our friend Mike 

 amusing his lonely little self in the only way that was 

 possible. 



After our first greetings, he said, " What you bin gone 

 so long for ? There's a pile o' telegraphin' 'bout you. 

 They think you're lost down in St. John's. But I see 

 you got a heap o' deer." 



"Where's Jack and Tom?" I said, running my eye over 

 the menagerie which frolicked around the little man. 



"A 'sport' went and shot 'em while you was gone," said 

 Mike, turning away. 



"The beast!" was Jack's remark, which entirely echoed 

 our feelings. 



Thus ends one of the pleasantest short journeys I have 

 undertaken — thirty-six days of the best of sport, and the very 

 best of companions. I had enjoyed myself immensely, and 

 returned refreshed in mind and body. 



All of us who are big-game hunters go to a new country 

 hoping to find animals abundant and good heads occasional, 

 and in Newfoundland I had encountered these conditions to 

 the full. 



After paying off my two guides, we sat round the camp 

 fire at night waiting for the accommodation train to arrive. 

 We did not talk much, but I know Saunders was thinking 

 deeply, and wanted to say something nice. At last the old 

 chap began, and we all three felt uncomfortable. 



" D'you know, sir, that Providence is mighty good to us, 

 whiles. Two years ago in the fall, I was 'bout on the rocks, 

 and not knowing where to turn for a few dollars which I 

 wanted particular. Just then I thought I'd struck a lucky. 



