Sport in an Untouched A merican Wildervess 



game-trails around the lakes, across the 

 barrens, and through the thickets, grow- 

 deeper year by year, trodden as they have 

 been by countless generations of animals. 

 On the day when the Hebrew psalmist 

 was singing, " Every beast of the forest is 

 mine," that very day the moose and cari- 

 bou at sunset came down to the shores of 

 the lonely lakes behind those mountains, 

 just as other moose and caribou will come 

 to-night. 



I have spent two seasons in the very 

 centre of this wilderness. From Freder- 

 icton, by the railroad of two locomotives, 

 ambitiously called the Canada Eastern, it 

 is three hours' ride — the distance is forty 

 miles — to Boiestown. There, thanks to 

 arrangements made by a friend in Freder- 

 icton, my companion and myself were met 

 by Henry Braithwaite, of Stanley, one of 

 the very few guides who know^ how^ to 

 reach the heart of the interior. A wagon 

 carried our tent and outfit five miles. 

 Then we were at the very last house, and 

 there everything was loaded upon a sled 

 with wide wooden runners. Two horses 

 struggled with this load, urged on by a 

 teamster whose profanity was a household 

 word in the settled portion of 'that valley. 

 For twenty-five miles, over roots, fallen 

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