62 HUNTING CAMPS. 



her, and in the black of dawn, after a most glorious display 

 of Aurora Borealis, the " search-lights of God/' we set off 

 for Davis Inlet, twenty miles away. 



Before leaving St. John's I had arranged with the Reid 

 Company to send the Virginia Lake to call for us at Fanny's 

 Harbour about the iyth or i8th of October. In view of 

 possible contingencies and to secure as much time for 

 hunting as possible, I purchased the trap-boat, and in the 

 event it proved useful. 



We started before dawn, as at that hour the wind had 

 died away and the dangerous passage between the twin 

 rocks which guard the entrance to Fanny's Harbour seemed 

 practicable. Soon the settlement was standing behind us, 

 a compact rocky mass against the dawn, as the boat, pro- 

 pelled by six enormous and clumsy oars, crept slowly out 

 from its shadow. To starboard the swell was bursting 

 upon the bases of seven or eight huge icebergs, while upon 

 the port side of our little craft lay the wild coast of Labrador, 

 low and bare until it rose into the massive headland of Cape 

 Harrigan. 



Rain commenced to fall at dawn, and about midday it 

 became obvious that we should not be able to make Davis 

 Inlet before dark, and, as no one aboard had a pilot's know- 

 ledge of any portion of the coast save the rocks and reefs of 

 Fanny's Harbour, the helm was perforce put over and we 

 headed for Jack Lane's Bay, a deep creek upwards of a 

 dozen miles long, on the north side of which, I was told, 

 there dwelt an old trapper named Sam Broomfield, who had 

 killed some deer the previous year. 



At first upon both sides of the inlet the shores were flat 

 and treeless, but as mile joined mile in our wake, patches of 

 hardy conifers became more and more frequent. Several 

 flocks of yellow-shanks, locally known as " twilligs," haunted 

 these flat shores in some numbers, and one or two that flew 

 over the boat were saluted with a Paradox shot-gun. Ulti- 



