748 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dec. 14, 1912 
'1 
KING STAG—BACK VIEW. 
largely with the extinction of the wolf packs, 
which formerly harried the deer, although it is 
true their motives were not altruistic, for they 
only began diligently to poison deer carcasses 
when the Government bounty of $20 per wolf 
was established thirty years ago. About that 
time, Bob said, two powerful wolves afflicted 
the settlers around Alexander Bay for many 
weeks, killing dozens of sheep and evading all 
traps and poison set for their undoing. Finally 
Bob s uncle observed that when the trap was 
set at a carcass these wolves would walk 
around and around it, but never approached 
within four or five feet of the trap, with what¬ 
ever care it might be concealed. So he got 
another trap and buried it in the moss at a 
distance of six feet from the carcass, and from 
the first trap, and so caught both wolves. 
Bob’s latest personal knowledge of wolves 
dates back ten years, when one fed upon a 
carcass near his hunting camp at White Plains, 
in the Gaff Topsails region. 
Returning to camp at dusk one evening, I 
thought I heard the “plump” of a frog leaping 
out of the grass into the river, but Bob said, 
“No.” One would conclude that St. Patrick 
must have stopped off in Newfoundland on his 
way back from Ireland, for it is said that there 
is not a frog, toad or snake on the island. 
Next day we hunted the bogs and small 
hills northwest of camp, drawing a blank, and 
seeing no living thing of note save a great 
horned owl which flew up from the swamp in 
front of us, alighting upon a dead pine and 
hooting until attacked and driven to the cover 
of the dark spruces by a pair of kingbirds. On 
our way back to camp we gathered a fine mess 
of ripe purple partridge berries, which, when 
well stewed with plenty of sugar, make an ex¬ 
cellent sauce for venison. 
The heavy rain having been carried off by 
a high wind, the weather turned clear and cold 
again, and we moved up stream two or three 
miles and in from the river a short distance, 
with light packs, constructing a small birch 
bark leanto close to a little pond. That night 
it turned very cold, ice forming all around the 
edges of the pond, but we were cosy and warm 
in our leanto. with the heat reflected from a 
little fireplace of flat stones. 
For two or three days we hunted constant¬ 
ly across the big bog, up through a thick woods 
on to the great high rolling open country to 
the east, around little ponds, and two or three 
small lakes, seeing a good many does and 
small stags with their horns still in velvet, but 
jumping only one big stag, and he seen in thick 
woods, only for a second. The weather became 
warm and summery again, altogether too much 
so for hunting. Salmon were still passing up 
the shallow river occasionally, or leaping in 
the pools. In the small streams we saw now 
and then a school of trout, but could not catch 
one. 
The compass which I always carried 
showed Mount Peyton north, 25 degrees east, 
from this bit of country. Bob, however, scorns 
the compass, relying upon the occasional high 
pines and tamaracks which project above the 
genera! growth, and all of which incline east or 
northeast, owing to the prevalence of south¬ 
west winds. 
The ubiquitous Canada jays infested our 
camp, stealing every speck of meat or bread 
they could get at. While making notes one 
afternoon I heard a tremendous squealing, and 
running out, found that Bob had sneaked up 
behind one of these birds which was stealing 
meat, and caught it in his hand; and I took the 
bird’s picture while it cried loudly for help. 
We had agreed with Ralph and Lionel that 
we would return to the main camp Sept. 18, 
and we met them about half way down, coming 
up to get such duffle as we did not have in our 
own packs. As we came around the bend op¬ 
posite the mouth of Dead Wolf River a stag 
was seen across the stream, browsing on the 
bushes which hung over the bank. It was rain¬ 
ing and foggy and impossible to study him 
carefully, for he was apparently about to go 
into the woods. So I took a quick chance at 
him at 250 yards, for his horns looked good. 
Having missed him, we concluded that they 
were poor anyway. 
The rain increased, and we arrived at the 
camp in the midst of a heavy downpour. A big 
flock of yellowlegs were feeding on the sand¬ 
bar in front of camp, and upon the woodpile 
was a fine pair of horns which Ralph had 
picked up on the high bog to the southeast. 
Heavy rain continued all night, and next morn¬ 
ing the river began to rise swiftly, coming up 
over twelve inches in three hours. The boys 
arrived at four o’clock, very wet, having been 
driven out of the upper narrows by rising 
water, forcing them to go straight up the 
cliffs in a very dangerous place. 
While we sat about the fire talking it all 
over, Bob suddenly exclaimed: “There comes 
a big stag right out of the bushes across the 
river.” Our camp was concealed from the 
river by a thick fringe of bushes along the 
bank, and I had a chance to glance at him 
through the binoculars long enough to see 
that his horns were all rubbed clear of the vel¬ 
vet and stained a deep red. As he came down 
into the water at not much over one hundred 
yards distance, I fired, striking him squarely in 
the nose; and as he wheeled brought him down 
with a shot through the foreshoulders. After 
all our toil and traveling around over the 
country, early and late, it did seem ridiculous 
to come back to our main camp and sit down 
and have a big stag walk right into camp and 
nearly run over us. 
At the moment when this all occurred 
Ralph was shoeless and sockless, toasting his 
toes before the coals, so that the other boys 
and I had a chance to look the stag over and 
guess his weight before Ralph appeared. He 
was a big fellow, very fat indeed, and I thought 
he should weigh 400 pounds. Lionel thought 
420 pounds would be nearer right, and Bob 
guessed 460 pounds. When Ralph appeared. 
