and the Maritime Provinces. 211 



was crossed, where we found quite a number of cast-off caribou horns 

 bleached by the weather as white as snow, and then the peaceful waters 

 of the lake were seen glimmering through the trees. No sooner had the 

 shore been reached than we saw on the opposite side of the lake, and 

 walking rapidly toward the upper turn, three cow caribou (one accompa- 

 nied by a calf), and a magnificent specimen of a bull. He was herding his 

 interesting family before him in a truly paternal style, and as Fred 

 remarked, was simply hurrying up to get shot. The guide took in the 

 situation at once. He hustled us, at a killing pace, through the bushes to 

 meet the drove at the head of the lake, because at that point a marshy 

 brook intersected the bank, and he feared that the drove, instead of keep- 

 ing to the shore of the lake, would branch off, and follow the line of the 

 brook. We had not much breath to spare when, upon reaching a small 

 opening in the canopy of trees, the first of the herd appeared in front of 

 us, about seventy-five yards away, and as Henry had prophesied, wheeled 

 to the right and vanished in the tangle of riotous vegetation that masked 

 the mouth of the brook. " Wait for the bull " ! was about all the guide 

 had time to say, when, as the phantom procession flitted by, the royal 

 animal came in view. He seemed to be suspicious of an evil presence, 

 but conducted himself with the dignity and decorum befitting his responsi- 

 ble position. It was impossible for a novice to miss that white shirt-front 

 that gleamed against the background of evergreens. Two rifles sounded 

 as one, and straightway a look of care came over the face of the bull. 

 Again we fired, when to our surprise the caribou shook his head indig- 

 nantly, and charged in our direction. It was the last supreme vindication 

 of his courage and vitality, for as he reached the brink of the brook he 

 toppled forward into the stream, driving one of his antlers up to the hilt 

 in the boggy bottom. Four bullets (45-85) had pierced his breast and 

 shattered his internal economy to atoms, and yet he stood upon his feet 

 long enough for us to have fired twice as many more. 



On this same hunt I had the good fortune to bring down another 

 very fine old bull. Fred and Henry had gone away up in the region of the 

 Cow mountains to call for moose, and the cook and I were cruising around 

 the big lake in a bark canoe, vainly seeking to circumvent the ducks. Late 

 in the afternoon, having sufficiently anathematized the ducks, we began to 

 paddle our way home leisurely by the northern shore. As the canoe 

 approached a rocky point upon which the mimic breakers of the lake were 

 beating their murmurous lullaby, there suddenly appeared a small cow 

 caribou, with limbs as delicate as those of a deer, and behind her a fine 

 old bull, stepping daintily and noiselessly around the turn. The canoe 

 was heading straight for the point, and the wind was blowing from us 

 almost exactly in their direction. They were about 150 yards away when 

 first seen, and the canoe drifted rapidly towards them. Any one who has 



