A HUNT IN THE LAURENTIDES 



Forest fires farther north had driven game into this country, 

 and a number of moose had been seen during the last few days. 

 A bull moose had been shot the day before we arrived, and that 

 afternoon a very fine bull was killed on the shore of the lake 

 within three-quarters of a mile of the cabins. A day of paddling 

 through small lakes and a day spent in one of the club's cabins, 

 followed by a long portage the next morning, brought us to a 

 landing-place on the St. Maurice River. Here we caught a 

 steamer belonging to one of the lumber companies going down 

 the river, and about the middle of the afternoon were landed 

 at Grandes Piles, on the Canadian Pacific Railroad. On the 

 steamer Nicholas succeeded in securing sufficient liquor to 

 become riotously intoxicated and to make himself a nuisance 

 to everybody on board. When the eflects of this hilarity wore 

 off the next day he was a very remorseful and penitent Indian, 

 and when we left the country the last words we heard were his 

 final, often repeated, "Please excuse — please excuse." 



