308 THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES 



had entered the water. Now in quick succession come 

 the thrills of the larger life — the letters from home, the 

 telegraph office, the hearty good-bye to the brave river- 

 boys, and my long canoe-ride is over. 



I had held in my heart the wanderlust till it swept 

 me away, and sent me afar on the back trail of the 

 north wind; I have lived in the mighty boreal forest, 

 with its Red-men, its Buffalo, its Moose, and its 

 Wolves; I have seen the Great Lone Land with its 

 endless plains and prairies that do not know the face of 

 man or the crack of a rifle; I have been with its coimt- 

 less lakes that re-echo nothing but the wail and yodel 

 of the Loons, or the mournful music of the Arctic 

 Wolf. I have wandered on the plains of the Musk-ox, 

 the home of the Snowbird and the Caribou. These 

 were the things I had burned to do. Was I content? 

 Content ! ! Is a man ever content with a single sip of 

 joy long-dreamed of? 



Four years have gone since then. The wanderlust 

 was not stifled any more than a fire is stifled by giving 

 it air. I have taken into my heart a longing, given 

 shape to an ancient instinct. Have I not found for 

 myself a kingdom and become a part of it? My reason 

 and my heart say, "Go back to see it all." Grant only 

 this, that I gather again the same brave men that 

 manned my frail canoe, and as sure as life and strength 

 continue / shall go. 



