246 NEWFOUNDLAND 



big fellow, but his horns were wretched, and, like all bad heads, 

 he wandered up close at hand, giving me time to make some 

 sketches at 30 yards distance. 



Shortly after this incident I was standing half undressed in 

 front of the fire, drying my soaking clothes, when Joe, who 

 was, as usual, "up a tree," pointed to the north with his long 

 red finger. Something was flashing in and out of the trees, 

 a deer for certain, but of what sort I could not make out, 

 even with the help of the glass. 



" Dat him for sure ; he's going fast and lookin' for de does." 



Joe was right, for we presently had a good but momentary 

 glimpse of an immense stag rapidly passing along the edge of 

 the timber with his nose on the ground. I bundled on some 

 clothes and we made off at our best speed across the marsh 

 to head him. We had not gone far, however, when we both 

 plunged in up to our waists in the bog. To extricate our- 

 selves was a moment's work, but a few yards farther a similar 

 disaster overtook us, Joe going in up to his armpits, from 

 which uncomfortable position I had to haul him. We now 

 found ourselves in a perfect maze of bogs, and after vainly 

 endeavouring to find a passage through, we were forced to 

 retreat by following our own spoor back. Now we made a 

 fresh start only to encounter a further series of bog holes 

 and treacherous swamps, through which, after some careful 

 manoeuvring, we eventually found a passage. 



Meanwhile the stag was rapidly advancing across our 

 front at a "running" walk, so we had to put on all steam to 

 head him. He was almost opposite to us and about 350 

 yards distance, when he must have caught a glimpse of our 

 movements as we sought to place some bushes between us. 

 He stopped short at once and stared at us, and we sank to 

 the ground and lay perfectly still. It was bitterly cold, and 



