Trail and Camp-Fire 



us, and to all appearances asleep. In full 

 sight we crept forward. A fallen balsam 

 stretched across the beach, a dozen yardis 

 ahead, and I resolved to shoot from there. 

 The metallic click ! click ! of the hob-nails in 

 my boots against the stones warned me to 

 approach no nearer. 



I set my sight for 1 75 yards, and, leaning 

 forward, rested my rifle across the fallen bal- 

 sam. Instantly it plunged and reared like a 

 gun-shy horse. Several dry branches cracked, 

 and to my dismay I saw the bull spring up 

 and face us, quartering. 



I tried to shoot above the bobbing tree, but 

 it was too high. Stooping, I sought another 

 aim, but I was badly cramped, and the whip- 

 ping of the branches before my eyes bothered 

 me. Nevertheless, I caught the white of a 

 shoulder through my sights, and fired. 



The caribou moved one step forward, and a 

 branch snipped from a bush just over his back. 

 I knew I had shot too high. Lowering my 

 rifle I depressed the sight to 1 50 yards. Then 

 I dropped flat on my stomach, and while the 

 bull still stood motionless, unable to locate 

 the seat of danger, I drew a careful bead for 



his shoulder, well back, and fired again. 



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