A Newfoundland Caribou Hunt 



had also been a hunting ground for white men 

 for years and years was proven to us by my 

 finding, neatly carven in the huge trunk of a 

 fallen forest monarch, the date 1847, an d three 

 initials that I have now forgotten. 



We enjoyed a number of amusing incidents 

 where caribou literally came into camp, and 

 once, in particular, Erie, the big Newfound- 

 land puppy, and Tilley, the cook, came face to 

 face with a yearling, and almost took it alive ; 

 but it finally got into the water and escaped. 



I wish to recount two more kills our last. 

 Both were made upon the barren ; and we 

 prize their heads highly. I shall relate fa- 

 ther's kill in his own words, as he told the 

 story, late in the evening, after his triumphant 

 return. 



" It was almost dark," he said, " and Tom 

 and Elias had gone back to get those other 

 heads. I waited alone at the edge of a point 

 of pines. Presently a cow and a big bull 

 walked leisurely into view four hundred yards 

 below me. I determined to have those ant- 

 lers, for even in the fading light I could see 

 that they were grand ones; but the distance 

 was too great to risk a shot. I began a cau- 

 tious stalk ; but I had not gone a dozen steps 



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