HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 121 



small points, many of which were so doubtful that it was 

 difficult to say what their precise number was, although 

 thirty-eight fulfilled the old watch-guard test. 



After working on up stream for about three miles, the 

 river suddenly became quite hopeless from the boatman's 

 point of view. It was nothing but a bed of stones, and the 

 men said they could proceed no farther without portaging. 

 One of the canoes was full of water, and would stand but 

 little more rough handling, so we decided to camp for the 

 night and explore ahead on foot. A nice dry camping- 

 ground was found on a steep hillside amongst a group of 

 pines, and here Bob and Sandy set to work to cut supports 

 for the lean-to, when, looking down the river, I saw a magni- 

 ficent stag crossing it about a quarter of a mile below. He 

 seemed to carry a fine set of horns, and marched up out of 

 the water looking the picture of proud defiance, whilst his 

 snowy neck and pendant ruffle shone like a star against the 

 dark green undergrowth of the forest. In a moment he 

 found his "lead" and disappeared, whilst I ran as hard as 

 I could to try and catch him in a follow-on chase. 



In a few minutes I turned in at his well-beaten road, 

 took up his spoor through the pine belt and on out to some 

 semi-open country, composed of hard, dry, quartzy hills. Here 

 I lost it, and climbed a high larch, which led to no better 

 results, and so in the dark, feeling very footsore — for I had 

 no boots on, having taken them off as soon as we halted — 

 I made my way back to camp. Perhaps the supposition 

 was unwarranted, but only natural as the stag got away ; 

 yet for several evenings I cherished the idea that that stag 

 was unusually fine. 



An exploration of the river for eight miles ahead dis- 

 closed the fact that we were on the edge of " Burnt " country, 



