CHAPTER XI 



THE MOUNT CORMACK REGION AND HISTORY OF THE 

 NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 



Round Lake is another somewhat dangerous sheet of water 

 to circumvent in light canoes, so we had to be careful next 

 morning, as a fair breeze was blowing astern when we headed 

 northwards along the western shore. I was in front with 

 Joe, for we expected to see a stag at any moment, and fresh 

 meat was now becoming a strong desideratum. About a 

 quarter to nine Joe raised his finger and pointed ahead. 

 "There's the stag," he said, "an he's travellin' fast." 

 The telescope revealed a fair stag still in the velvet, 

 walking with the smart, business-like step that means a 

 good 5|- miles an hour. He was going in the same direction 

 as ourselves along the lake beaches, and I saw that we should 

 have to make a considerable detour to head him and get 

 the wind. Hard paddling was now the order of the day, 

 so we put our backs into it and forged ahead to avoid a 

 group of small islands that lay between us and the deer. 

 In a quarter of an hour we were abreast of the stag. He 

 never stopped or looked about. After another ten minutes 

 we were about a quarter of a mile ahead, and decided to 

 cut in on to the land and head the beast. During this 

 manoeuvre the stag quickened his pace, and looking up 

 sharply, stood at gaze. 



" Don't move a muscle," I said, as we stared each other 

 out of countenance at a distance of 400 yards. The stag 



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