190 SPORT IN NEWFOUNDLAND 



till 3 o'clock to reach the top of the ridge, 

 which at first sight looked so near. The rise 

 the whole way was very gradual, in fact hardly 

 perceptible. The whole country was undulat- 

 ing, low ridges alternating with little valleys, 

 and in each bottom was a small pond from 

 which issued a noisy stream. Dwarf balsam 

 was scattered in patches. A bright yellow 

 grass showed where the marshes, locally called 

 " mishes," which we had to cross, lay, and 

 though there had been a spell of dry weather, 

 very wet and boggy some of these " mishes " 

 were. 



When we reached the six- mile ridge we caught 

 our first glimpse of the top of Mount Sylvester, 

 just showing a pale blue on the sky-line, while 

 far down below in a valley lay Hungry Grove 

 Pond. 



I calculated we had come eight miles, for 

 the six-mile ridge had been measured from the 

 old Telegraph Office instead of the new. 



Dark clouds were now coming up from the 

 coast, and it looked as if we were in for a bad 

 night. I asked Steve if he were certain he had 

 brought the pack with my blankets and water- 

 proof sheet. On examining the packs we found 

 that this, the most important to me at least, 

 had been left behind. Here was a pleasant 

 position. Heavy rain coming up with a cold 



