ig8 SPORT INDEED 



custom runs in a different groove. I have been used 

 to "eat when I have stomach and wait for no man's 

 leisure " : therefore the promise of a long-drawn in- 

 terim of not eating at all was anything but pleasing. 



It was now twelve o'clock. I had no matches with 

 me, having in a very unsportsman-like manner left 

 them in the canoe, together with my compass and 

 other necessary things which a hunter should never 

 run the risk of being without. But even if I had 

 brought the matches and built me a fire I had nothing 

 for the fire to cook. 



My stomach meanwhile was getting noisy in its de- 

 mands, and to quiet it I searched among the bushes 

 with the hope of finding a few raspberries. I did find 

 a few some half-dozen, and, though tasty enough to 

 the palate, I soon discovered that six of them made a 

 slim stopper for the gap in a hungry stomach. 



After finishing my " light lunch " I took up my 

 tramp and a couple of miles of it brought me to a de- 

 serted logging camp. Its door stood invitingly open, 

 and walking in I found a good cooking stove, a few 

 handfuls of flour in the bottom of a barrel, also a salt- 

 pork barrel. The latter was partly full of brine, on 

 the top of which floated a little lump of fat pork. 

 And now for a match ! My kingdom for a match ! 

 I searched through that camp high and low. No 

 Klondike digger, hungry for his shining nugget, ever 

 searched for it with more eagerness than did I for a 



