INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 233 



yards of the stag feeding quietly on the hill beneath me, so 

 I sat up to take a quiet shot. 



"What are you doing?" said Joe, who never took shots 

 farther than forty yards ; " we can get close in." 



" I don't want to," I replied, for I was anxious to show 

 him what the Mannlicher could do. 



The bullet took the deer high up through the ribs, and he 

 staggered a few yards with his head down. I then fired again 

 and hit him close to the same place, when he pitched forwards 

 a few yards and fell dead. 



Joe said nothing, but shook his head and picked up the 

 rifle, into the nozzle of which he tried to insert his little finger, 

 but without success. 



" So," he said, " if you offer to give me a rifle like that las' 

 year I wu'n't say ' thank you,' but now I think him pretty 

 good," and he walked off to bleed the stag. Its head was a 

 very pretty one of twenty-seven points, but encumbered as we 

 were with other things, it was impossible to carry it. Joe said 

 that his brother, who would shortly hunt in the neighbourhood 

 of Burnt Hill, would carry it out for me to the coast for five 

 dollars, so I left the bargain in his hands. 



As he was cutting off one of the haunches I happened to 

 look down the hill to see if our men were still in sight, when 

 I observed five caribou galloping along the base of the hill 

 and coming in our direction. Three of them were undoubtedly 

 stags, so I made all haste to cut them off, leaving Joe to skin 

 and follow me. The wind being right, I easily headed the 

 deer, which, in the fading light, looked much better than they 

 really were. Two of the stags had pretty heads of about 

 twenty points, but they were not the sort of animals I desired. 

 Joe joined me in a few minutes, laden with ribs, breast, tongue, 

 and a haunch. We made for the wood, over which a haze 



