VII 



CARIBOU-HUNTING 



AT noon on September 27th we unpacked the weary horses 

 i\ beside a small pond in the midst of a patch of stunted 

 firs. For miles in all directions stretched a bleak, open, gray- 

 country over which the bands of Osborn's caribou roamed. 

 The character of this section was very mountainous, and the 

 rocks were of limestone formation. Ragged gray peaks flanked 

 with glaciers extended upward from ranges of open, rolling 

 mountains, covered with bushes and a grayish moss. A few 

 scanty patches of stunted trees existed in the more favorable 

 spots, and the valleys were full of willow swamps dotted with 

 innumerable barrens and marshy ponds. It was a bright and 

 invigorating day when we reached the caribou country, and, 

 leaving Hungerford to make camp comfortable, Mac and I 

 started out over the nearest mountain. 



A mile farther along the slope we crouched down in the 

 bushes, while a large, cross-patch fox, unconscious of our 

 presence and continually uttering its shrill whistle, passed 

 within fifty yards on its search for small game. Shortly after- 

 ward we saw what we thought was a bull caribou lying down, 

 but after a careful stalk were surprised and disgusted to dis- 

 cover that it had been killed several weeks before and the head 

 and one hind-quarter removed by the hunters. Ptarmigan, 

 now in a mottled gray and white plumage, were plentiful over 

 all the open country, and we had little trouble in keeping camp 

 supplied with birds by the aid of the .22-caliber Winchester 

 which the cook carried. 



377 



