A Newfoundland Caribou Hunt 



by the entire party, and a very pretty bit of 

 work it was. 



We were just putting the finishing touches 

 to our permanent camp, and Mr. Keller, father 

 and myself, were debating as to the best 

 method of constructing that very important 

 article of camp furniture, the dining table, 

 when the shrill alarum of the watch-tower 

 whistle quivered and swelled in our ears. 



Observing the courtesy of turn about, I 

 handed my father his rifle and a half-dozen 

 cartridges, and together we rushed to the 

 point. 



" There he blows ! " called Elias from his 

 watch-tower ; and, following his leveled glasses, 

 we descried the head and antlers of a bull 

 moving rapidly toward our bank, a half-mile 

 down the lake. Father and Tom Beaton 

 sprang toward the canoe, and in a moment 

 the dip, dip, of twin paddles met our waiting 

 ears, and wc saw the " Peterborough" stealing, 

 like a thief in the night, down the shore, well 

 within the shadow of the forest. I turned my 

 attention to the bull. The glasses brought 

 him almost to my feet. He was, indeed, a fine 

 fellow, and swam so bravely, with eyes and 

 nose water level, and antlers thrown regally 



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