A Newfoundland Caribou Hunt 



these barrens that the monster stags were re- 

 ported to roam, and we determined to visit 

 them before we broke camp. 



Choosing a good day we made an early 

 start and were off. After an hour's row up 

 the lake, we landed at a spot where a clear 

 mountain brook babbled a promise of some 

 little aid to the ascent, and began what proved 

 to be the hardest bit of climbing I have ever 

 undergone. We used the ax freely, but in 

 spite of our efforts at opening a way, we con- 

 sumed the better part of three hours in as- 

 cending less than a mile of sloping hillside. 

 It was crawl here and wriggle there, but never 

 annapright position among them all. 



When at length we had reached the crest of 

 the hills, and no sign of the barrens appeared, 

 we sent a guide up a tree to reconnoiter. He 

 was able to make out very little, but said he 

 thought he saw an opening a mile inland. 

 This was discouraging ; but while we were 

 discussing the advisability of beating a retreat, 

 one of the other guides, who had wandered 

 apart unperceived, returned with the gratify- 

 ing news that not five hundred yards away lay 

 a huge plain literally alive with caribou. In- 

 stantly we resumed the march, rifles ready. 



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