THE CARIBOU MIGRATION 45 



tangled mass of orange-coloured antlers breaks the 

 graceful line of the canoe; my trophies, as yet 

 invisible and of unknown quality, are packed in a 

 tiny waterproof case, awaiting the magic touch of 

 the chemicals which wiU discover whether or not 

 my aim has been true. If true, I shall have 

 pictures to show. If not, the many memories 

 of the trip must suffice, and they will hve and 

 improve as the years go by. 



