LooKkING FOR ANTLERS. 143 

possible tread, until we are again standing at the door of the 
hunting lodge and hang our rifles in their places. 
We were looking for them even though we carried home to 
camp a young and tender buck instead, with only an apology 
for horns; and later, when the snow had come to stay awhile, 
showing us more plainly the freshest tracks, and the sledding 
was fairly good, when we hauled out the large and fat old 
caribou with the scrubby horns. 
We believe they were in our thoughts one morning when 
tracking was made unusually good again, over the hard, crusty, 
bottom snow, from the five or six inches of new that had 
silently fallen during the night, clearing up with a bright, 
breezy morning. We remember at the first how every bough 
and bush was loaded, piled on in oval mounds, and little 
peaks on all, not one escaping its white and heavy load. But 
Boreas came to their rescue, and then instead of the trees all 
remaining so very quiet, standing so motionless and hanging 
down their heads, they bow to the winds, and raising their 
heads shake off their burden, and gaily wave their arms to the 
breeze again. 
We were just on the way as the wind sprang up, and we 
met old Boreas upon the hill beneath the spruces, and there 
received his cool reception. Just as the trees were bowing to 
him he opened up for the performance, and if a short show, 
he gave a merry circus. It was spank, splash, everywhere, 
and not forgetting to snowball the hunters. It was no use to 
dodge, for he took us on the wing just the same. We had 
started after a good hearty breakfast, fresh and wiry, as 
if in the heydey of youth, being gaily capa gts and 
topped out with red flannel night caps, high peat -engt even 
minus the tassel, in great hopes of the noble bf 
Bt eke 
a fe 

