222 



RECREATION 



to the deadwaters I says to Tom, 'It's 

 about time we sees our usual caribou.' 

 Just then I looks up the deadwaters 

 and I sees a caribou, and with that I 

 grabs the dog. Then I shows the cari- 

 bou to Tom. The caribou was at the 

 end of the deadwaters, too far away to 

 shoot, but I see that by gettin' to a 

 patch of bushes, up the stream a ways, 

 he would have a good chanst. So Tom 

 set off up the deadwaters, keepin' the 

 patch of bushes between him and the 

 caribou. Tom had his grub and stuff 

 on his back, and it was in a white sack. 

 You couldn't see it from the front, but 

 from behind you could see it a mile — I 

 don't ever carry a white sack on that 

 account. Well, sir, Tom hadn't got a 

 hundred yards when out of the woods 

 come two caribous ! 

 They sees the white 

 sack and stops. Tom 

 was lookin' the other 

 way and I couldn't 

 holler to Tom with- 

 out scarin' the cari- 

 bous, so I jist set 

 there and looked. 

 Well, it was comical, 

 me settin' there, no 

 gun, holdin' the dog, 

 and can't holler to 

 Tom ! The caribou 

 didn't seem to know what to make 

 of it. They steps out on the ice 

 and crosses over to the side Tom was 

 on. Then they creeps along on Tom's 

 tracks, with heads stuck out, lookin'. 

 Tom was goin' very slow and cautious, 

 watchin' the caribou up the deadwaters 

 and he didn't know there was anything 

 around. They crept on until they got 

 right up to Tom ; they was right at his 

 heels ; he could have touched them, 

 pretty near! Jist then Tom must have 

 heard something, for he turned his 

 head quick and he sees the two cari- 

 bous ! He was that surprised he 

 couldn't move, and never thought no 

 more about his gun than if he never 

 had one, and the caribous turned quick 

 and was off in the woods. By that 

 time, the other caribou gits scared, and 

 when Tom looks for it, it is gone, too ! 



He brushed right past me 



"When I was quite a small gunner," 

 continued Amos, his head leaned back 

 against the wainscoting, whiskers out 

 and eyes fixed toward the ceiling, in 

 reminiscent mood, "I wanted to carry 

 a gun pretty bad. But father said I 

 was too small to handle his rifle, so he 

 gave me a little hatchet, and I felt pret- 

 ty big, goin' around with the toma- 

 hawk stuck in my belt, like an Injun. 

 I kept beggin' father to let me take his 

 rifle, so, one day — it was winter time — 

 he let me take his gun and I sticks the 

 tomahawk into my belt and takes 

 father's old black dog and goes off up 

 the mountain, jist back of the house. 

 I had got most to the top of the moun- 

 tain, when I heard the dog bark and I 

 runs up and the dog has a big caribou ! 

 The caribou was 

 standin' in the snow 

 and the dog was 

 barkin' at him. I 

 runs up and the car- 

 ibou didn't see me ; 

 he was lookin' at the 

 dog. When I sees 

 a good chanst, 1 

 takes the big rifle 

 and fires. Father had 

 the dog trained 

 when he heard the 

 gun go off he'd 

 fasten right on, so when the gun goes 

 off the dog fastens right on the cari- 

 bou, and throws him down. I thinks 

 I've done it, all right! I've killed the 

 caribou, so I runs up and takes my little 

 hatchet to cut its throat and as I gets 

 up clost to the caribou the dog lets up. 

 The caribou gets up, and I strikes at 

 the caribou, and when I struck, the hat- 

 chet slips out of my mitten, and the 

 handle hits the caribou on the nose, 

 not to hurt it, but the caribou jumps 

 at me and strikes me with his fore feet 

 and knocks me over in the snow. I 

 gits up quick as I can and if it hadn't 

 been that the dog took holt agin I 

 don't know but that the caribou 'd done 

 me. That gives me time to git up, 

 and git first one snowshoe on and then 

 the other, and we stands there lookin' 

 at each other, My rifle is buried in the 



