718 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dec. 7, 1912 
THE NARROWS. 
THE TRAIL. 
out a big bog up to the northwest; but while 
there was plentiful sign we found no deer. 
Upon returning to camp the boys said that a 
grand white stag, with horns all peeled, had 
come out across the river three hundred yards 
below camp, just about 4 p. m.; that he got a 
whiff of the camp when about in the middle 
of the river and went tearing down stream, 
nearly kicking all the water out of the river. 
Ralph declared that his horns and legs and the 
water, altogether, looked like a spring log jam 
going down at Grand Lake Stream. 
Next day I started up stream with Bob 
and Lionel at daylight, for the real hunting 
camp the boys had located fifteen miles to the 
south. Considering the slippery stones of the 
river bed and the hard portages through the 
thick woods around bad places in the river, I 
called it a hard day, although I carried only 
my rifle and camera; but Bob and Lionel, with 
their packs of sixty pounds or so each, did 
not seem to mind it much. My feet were sore 
from fighting the frequent beds of sharp shale 
rock along the river bed. 
The bed of the river is broken here and 
there by lava dikes, and as we went along, filled 
up more and more with great boulders. At one 
point the river emerges from a dark canon 
with steep rock walls, into which we could not 
penetrate. This Bob called the ‘ tunnel,” and 
we had to make a three-mile portage to reach 
the head of it. Resting there, we could hear 
the faint sound of falls down in the tunnel. 
Bob said that no one had ever been able to 
penetrate this tunnel As a matter of fact, it 
appears that very few white hunters have ever 
come on to this particular river, although the 
country has been trapped by the Indians since 
the memory of man runneth not to the contrary. 
We saw fox and cat tracks along the beach. 
It seems that there are no wolves in New¬ 
foundland now, although Lionel said that he 
had heard of a pack three years ago in the 
northern peninsula, along the Straits of Belle 
Isle. They are said to cross from Labrador oc¬ 
casionally on the ice pack, the narrowest place 
being only nine miles in width. 
I reached the camp, only to find that some one 
had come in there hungry and eaten up all the 
grub we had; not a morsel was left. 
‘‘That didn’t bother me'any, for I was just 
a young buck and could live on meat and knew 
I could get a ptarmigan or deer to eat, so I 
set out to build a fire and began to cut down a 
small birch just as it was getting dark. My ax 
must have crossed a small twig, for the next 
thing I knew the point of it was into my left 
knee cap. I always was an awful coward about 
human blood anyway, the worst you ever see, 
and the blood and all finally made me sick. I 
had no clothes of any soft, so I cut up the 
better part of my undershirt to make bandages 
and lay still all night. In the mornin’ my leg 
was that stiff and painful I couldn’t move. I 
dragged myself out and managed to start a fire 
and get some water heated, and by bathing the 
knee in hot water a long time, and tying it up 
as much as I could, got so I could crawl along 
after a sort of fashion and look for game, for 
there was nothing whatever left to eat. 
“Not a deer or bird could I find, but at 
length when I came out on to the shore of 
George’s Lake. I saw way down on the edge 
of the white ice something black, like a man’s 
coat sleeve, and I knew it was an otter. I 
crawled along through the edge of the woods 
to get at him, but when I got down there not 
a sign of him could I see. Now the ice was 
about two feet thick and a big heave had come 
and cracked it up right there in a wide crack 
and forced it up. and as I peeked about under 
there I saw him right handy to me in under 
on a little shelf of ice, watching me. He knew 
the minute I seen him, for I seen his eyes 
twinkle, and, like a flash, he was gone under 
the ice. But I was sure he’d come out soon 
for a look, and when he did I shot him. Of 
course, an otter isn’t much for eating, he’s 
not a thing you’d pick if you had much choice, 
but I made up my mind he’d keep me from star¬ 
vation, and for a fact he did, until I got so I 
could walk after a fashion and be able to get 
out of the woods. Ever since that I always 
takes a look over my head before I begins 
choppin’.” 
Speaking of seal hunting, Bob said: “There 
(Continued on page 735.) 
FOLLOWING 
After a sleep and breakfast Lionel returned 
down stream to the main camp, while Bob and 
I settled down for a hunt, getting firewood 
and fixing up comfortably the tiny camp, which 
stood just inside the edge of the bank, close 
by the river. 
I observed that Bob was very careful with 
his ax, and commented upon it. Said he: “I 
have a good right to be, for I got a good les¬ 
son once and I will tell you about it. When I 
was a young fellow about like Ralph I made 
up a deal with another lad to trap in partner¬ 
ship one winter. We spotted out a line into a 
good bit of country about forty miles from 
home, just a good day’s travel, and got our 
leanto built and our grub packed in and cached 
in the late fall, and everything all ready. 
“We trapped through- the winter until 
March, and then the other fellow got discour¬ 
aged and jacked up. I wanted to have more 
sand than that; I didn’t want to jack up, so I 
made up my mind to go over the line at least 
once more. So I set out before daylight with 
just a bit of lunch in my pocket and by night 
