ON THE GANDER RIVER, 219 



all " gone on the Labrador " ! This keen fellow's one 

 fault is that he grows dejected unless he is constantly 

 seeing game. I tried to comfort him by saying that 

 our luck would probably come as Hardy's had, but 

 he only shook his head. We walked on in silence, 

 following a deer-path that wound over the sandy ridge 

 and in and out of the little groups of spruces and jumpers. 

 Then Jack began, " I wonder if Mr. Hardy But he 



got no further, for there was a crash in the thicket below 

 us, and a large yellow stag dashed out of it. We were 

 at the moment high above him, upon the slope of a 

 barren. From that angle his horns seemed very wide- 

 spread, palmated and heavy in beam, and curiously like 

 those of a certain type of Norwegian elk. 



Feeling pretty sure the head was such a one as I 

 wanted, I fired just as the stag disappeared among the 

 trees. It was a snap shot, and I was sure I had missed 

 him. I said as much to Jack as we ran forward, and 

 he agreed. We pushed through the drogue of trees 

 after him, and emerging from them we saw a deep 

 valley full of spruces and flanked by a low hillside, but 

 nowhere a trace of the deer. Then a stick cracked, and 

 the stag burst out of the spruces on the opposing ridge 

 nearly four hundred yards away. I managed to fire all 

 the shots in the magazine before he reached cover. 

 " Under him ! Under him ! " said Jack ; but this 

 time I did not think so, for I imagined the caribou 

 had staggered. And so it turned out, for presently we 

 came upon blood splashed on the trees and mosses. 

 Another hundred yards was covered with much caution ; 

 then we saw there was no more need of caution, for at 

 the foot of a little hummock the stag was lying quite 

 dead, with three shots in him, while the fourth had hit 



