ON SNOWSHOES AND DOG-SLEDS. 225 
some time past, supper of venison steak was gratefully 
appreciated. 
During the day’s march numerous wolf and polar bear 
tracks had been crossed, but the caribou were the only 
animals seen. 
The next day’s tramp was a short one, not in actual 
miles travelled by some of us, but in distance made upon 
the course. We had, however, a good day’s sport, for at 
different times during the day no less than eight deer 
were shot. My brother and I were not able to take 
part in the chase, for by this time, though I was begin- 
ning to recover, my brother was as badly crippled as I 
had been, and for a time had to be drawn ona sled. I 
should not, perhaps, say we took no part in the chase, 
for my brother made one remarkable shot. _ 
At about the close of day, a small deer which Mr. 
Matheson had been following, and at which he had been 
practising for some time with my brother’s rifle, stood 
still and looked at him with innocent amazement, at a 
distance of about three hundred yards from our train. 
Probably the cause of Mr. Matheson’s bad shooting was 
the cross wind which was blowing strongly at the time, 
but, however, he gave up in disgust and returned the 
rifle to my brother, asking him to try a shot. My 
brother said it was useless for him to try, as the deer 
had now run still farther away, and he himself had 
only one leg to stand on. But, dropping on his knee, 
he fired a shot, and down dropped the deer. 
Several of the best haunches of venison secured were 
loaded upon the sleds, but it was not thought wise to 
overload the teams by trying to carry too much. The 
bulk of the meat was “ cached” where it was killed, to 
15 
