Trail and Camp-Fire 



I recall that third day now it seems an endless 

 journey through lakes that began every mile 

 and never ended. The truth is that each dory 

 was rowed by four strong men, and I paddled 

 that canoe alone, and a strong dead wind 

 sprang up and added to my toil. 



But about four in the afternoon the wind 

 increased so greatly and the waves swelled to 

 such dimensions that it was no longer possible 

 to proceed with any degree of safety in the 

 canoe, and so we shifted to the dories and 

 towed our little craft behind. It was just 

 after this that I spied a young bull caribou 

 swimming directly toward us across the lake, 

 narrowed to a few hundred yards at this 

 point. 



We remained motionless as he swam up, 

 but we did not stop talking. On he came, 

 swimming strong and turning his head this 

 way and that to stare with his great eyes at 

 our strange selves. Now and again a wave, 

 larger than its fellows, would break upon his 

 nose. Then, with a grunt of disapproval, the 

 bull would raise himself with furious strokes 

 half out of the water and shake his head 

 violently. Soon he had approached within a 

 hundred yards of us. Then he decided he 



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