Winter Camp-Fires 
II.—An Exhausting Climb-Down the Steep 
Mountain After Dark—Pascal’s Accident 
By W. J. BIGNELL 
P ASCAL and I had decided that on the fol¬ 
lowing day we would break a trail to the 
summit of the mountain. Then we would 
reconnoiter, secure a caribou if possible, and at 
the close of the day return to the shack. Aftei this 
experiment we could decide whether it was feasi¬ 
ble for us to climb the mountain each day, or 
whether, in order to secure time for hunting, 
we would have to tent nearer the summit at a 
point where there had formerly been an Indian 
tepee. So early the next morning we were on 
our way up, following the old Indian blazes. 
There was nothing of what might be termed 
mountaineering about our manner of ascent. It 
was simply a long, hard, direct climb of about 
four hours, the last stage of the climb being so 
precipitous that we covered much more than the 
actual distance represented by the stretch, for 
we were continually slipping and sliding back 
and crawling up again. Not infrequently a single 
slide measured as much as fifteen feet. Had we 
not been equipped with the round Montagnais 
snowshoes, the* tussle would have been still 
harder. The long climb came to an end at last, 
and we finally emerged on the summit or bar- 
. rens. 
The slightly hilly character of the tract we 
had struck interfered with an extensive outlook, 
but after proceeding a short distance we ob¬ 
tained a wider range, and at a point perhaps 300 
yards away I noticed something that had the 
appearance of antlers growing out of the ground. 
I called Pascal’s attention to this and we pro¬ 
ceeded cautiously to investigate. Suddenly the 
antlers came to life, and we discovered that they 
were attached to a caribou that had been lying 
down. He had not fully scented us, yet an in¬ 
definite something had warned him of danger 
and made him uneasy, and he started slowly off 
while we crept after him in the open, or got 
up and ran- whenever a knob or a boulder af¬ 
forded sufficient cover. Before we could get 
within decent range we reached a little knoll 
where nearly the whole expanse of the barren 
opened to view, and I shall never forget the 
sight. Six or eight square miles were probably 
represented by this open space, and there were 
caribou everywhere. They were by twos, by 
fives or again in bands comprising from ten to 
twenty each. The entire company must have 
numbered near 200. We were spellbound at the 
sight; we forgot the time of day, the distance 
to camp, forgot prudence—forgot everything but 
those caribou. 
Pascal had never before seen so many to¬ 
gether, and I had never seen more than five 
together. We must have watched them for over 
THE RUGGED, PRECIPITOUS SH1CKSH0CK MOUNTAINS. 
half an hour. Some were lying down and others 
standing. Some were in restless movement and 
others were pawing away the snow and eating 
the moss. Once 'in a while one of them would 
play about, frisking like a lamb. 
It was a beautiful, sunny, mild day with a 
gentle breeze, but blowing unfortunately some¬ 
what from our side of the barren toward the 
caribou, the nearest'of which were perhaps 400 
yards away, and the furthest so far that we 
merely saw their moving dots of bodies, appar¬ 
ently without legs, standing out against the sky¬ 
line. The atmosphere was so clear that it was 
as if one looked through a telescope, bringing all 
objects near. 
We suddenly awoke to the fact that the day 
was advancing, and looking at our watches found 
they registered 1 o'clock. Owing to the lateness 
of the hour it was impossible to skirt the caribou 
and get them up wind, as in order to do this a 
detour of several miles would have been neces¬ 
sary. I could not make out any fine antlers 
among the nearest, or I would have tried a few 
long range shots. 
Under the circumstances the proper thing for 
us. to do was to return to camp for the night, 
portage our tent to near the summit, and from 
that point of vantage get back to the hunting 
another day, but I simply could not leave those 
caribou when I thought of the heads there must 
be among them. 
It was liable to storm. Caribou are uncertain 
as to their movements; I was afraid they might 
take to the woods and disappear for several days, 
and the open season was nearly over. 
Pascal, always agreeably ready for everything, 
made no objection when I proposed trying to 
approach the caribou more or less down wind, 
and taking the chance of getting in range. Pick¬ 
ing the nearest band of any size we began to 
creep toward them. We had only advanced a 
few hundred feet when the wind evidently 
brought them some subtle knowledge of us, for 
they commenced the same restless moving tac¬ 
tics that the lone caribou had employed before. 
After several attempts to approach other bands, 
but always with the same result, we gave it up, 
and I decided to have a try at what looked like 
a very fine head some 400 yards away. 
I tried him high and I tried him low, but 
could not get the range and could not see where 
my bullets were striking, though- I think I 
touched him once, for he humped his back in 
a peculiar manner. I fired six shots at him and 
then gave it up, as he was wandering further 
away all the time. Pascal was much disgusted 
with my shotiong, but was kind enough to add 
that whether it was the rare atmosphere or the 
glare that affected the vision, he had never 
known anyone to shoot very straight at any dis¬ 
tance on these barrens. I had the hope of better 
luck as soon as we pitched the tent near the 
summit and could devote the whole day to hunt¬ 
ing. 
By this time it was imperative for us to start 
back. We were over two miles from the point 
where we had struck the barrens and Pascal 
said that near by in the beginning of the scrub 
timber on the mountain side there was a little 
lake whose brook outlet runs into the river on 
which our shack stood. He said it was longer 
down by the brook way. but far less steep than 
the way by which we had come. We would 
strike the river at a point about three miles 
distant from our shack. But he thought we 
