LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 305 



the greatest of luck I hit the deer right through the heart 

 with my second shot. 



"Very good," said Steve, "you kill him," although I was 

 unaware that my shot had taken effect. We ran forward, 

 and for a time could see nothing of our quarry, though Steve 

 was positive I had hit him, until, going forward, we saw the 

 antlers of the dying stag swaying to and fro on the top of 

 a knoll. He was a noble thirty-five pointer, with large horns, 

 only spoilt by the usual hook brow on the right antler. 



This closed my hunting for the year, and perhaps for ever 

 in Newfoundland. I had killed six splendid heads, four of 

 which were of exceptional beauty, and my collection of caribou 

 heads was now complete. This season had surpassed all my 

 previous expeditions, both in the way of success, and in the 

 enjoyment of finding and stalking deer in an open country 

 where no white man had ever hunted before. Others will 

 doubtless come after me, and for them I can only wish the 

 good luck that attended me ; but I trust that they will employ 

 the Indians who accompanied me, and whose lawful hunting- 

 grounds lie within this area of the country. 



On 6th November we met Matty Burke and Johnny 



Benoit, and all packed up and carried the outfit and heads 



to the canoes on Browse's Lake. From this point to John 



Hinx's tilt the stream was fairly easy, but for the next four 



days the Indians had to display all their skill in preventing 



the canoes from upsetting in the boiling torrent of the Long 



Harbor River. Several times they packed everything for a 



mile or two, but negotiated most of the worst rapids by 



"lining" down them, whilst one man kept the nose of the 



canoe straight with a long spruce pole. On loth November 



we reached Ryan's, and the end of our canoe journey. 



I will not trouble the reader with the difficulties I 



u 



