will go close to 400 pounds or even 
more and with his branching, many- 
pointed antlers, his warm gray winter 
coat and white shaggy neck is a fine 
looking beast, well able to thrive in a 
none too gentle atmosphere. 
Though apparently as keen scented 
as other deer, his senses of sight and 
hearing do not seem any too sharp 
nor does he appear to depend on them 
for his safety half so much as on his 
nose. With the wind favoring I’ve 
more than once in plain sight come 
quite close upon caribou while they 
fed or stood for some moments 
stupidly at gaze before trotting off or 
circling about to try to get my wind. 
Short of the distant barren grounds 
of Canada or Alaska I know of no 
place where caribou hunting equals 
either in sport or quantity and quality 
of the game, that which may still be 
had on the extensive barrens of 
Newfoundland. 
Many years ago, upon the advice of 
General Dashwood, a great English 
sportsman, I made a trip into the 
interior of the island. Aboard a small 
steamer, we went up the westerly 
coast of Newfoundland which, after 
passing the val- 
ley of the Cod- 
uroy and Cape 
Anguile, is very 
high and of an 
extreme  pictur- 
esqueness. Great 
mountains jut 
out breaking off 
in sheer cliffs of 
several hundred 
feet, over which 
crystal streams 
tumble in water- 
falls of long 
silvery ribbons 
of spray to the 
sea beneath. 
The following 
afternoon we en- 
tered the beauti- 
Ptlaepay of 
Islands and run- 
ning well up the 
harbor made 
fast at the wharf 
of Mr. Petrie’s 
store. Here I left 
the steamer and on stepping ashore 
was grasped by the strong, honest and 
faithful hand of Henry McWhittier 
who, for the next two months, was 
my sole companion, guide and friend, 
and a most loyal and able one he 
proved. Of upright build and a giant 
in strength, clad in mackinaw and 
high “huskie” moccasins, he looked the 
typical woodsman, and his clear blue 
eye showed a character and _ good 
temper which no punishing work up 
Page 9 
rapids or tiring pack trips through 
forest, alder swamp or marshy 
barrens could ever ruffle. The after- 
noon was spent in going over our store 
of provisions which, with our tent and 
blankets, were stowed in the waist of 
our canoe. As we anticipated many a 
long march, our supplies, though ade- 
quate, were of a simple nature and for 
the sake of lightness unnecessary luxu- 
ries were omitted. 
Early on the morning of August 
25th we set out, paddling up the har- 
bor to the mouth of the Humber, and 
thence up the river until the current 
and rapids forced us to put aside our 
paddles and take up the setting poles. 
We kept well over to the left bank 
around the Devil’s Dancing Pool, a 
dangerous spot where the eddying and 
swirling current sucked in under a big 
overhanging cliff, and reached the foot 
of the upper rapids about noon. After 
boiling the kettle and having lunch, we 
poled the rest of the way up to the 
foot of Deer Lake, reaching there 
about three o’clock. Here we beached 
the canoe in a nearby cove and while 
Henry cut a bit of wood for an over- 
night camp, I took my fly rod and in 

about an hour over at the outlet 
caught a fine mess of trout. I had 18 
of them, all pretty much of a size, 
averaging about 34 of a pound each. 
The next day we did the sixteen miles 
to the head of Deer Lake opposite to 
where the railroad now has a small 
station. Sometimes shooting duck, of 
which there were quite a few, and at 
others fishing, we moved by slow 
stages up the Humber and then with 
several portages across to the head of 
Grand Lake, the largest body of water 
in the island, being nearly sixty miles 
in length. Skirting the upper end of 
this and just as we were turning the 
canoe into the Sandy Pond stream, we 
heard some honking around a little 
point, and approaching carefully I was 
able to bag a fatwold goose, one of a 
pair that were feeding in the shal- 
lows. After a night’s camp on the 
Sandy Pond stream, I next morning 
found quite near on the beach the 
fresh track of a wolf but never got 
a sight of the midnight prowler. 
We had already seen quite a few 
caribou, but as these were either 
young stags or does we didn’t make 
any serious effort to bag any, having 
a constant supply of trout, salmon, 
duck and snipe to supplement our sup- 
ply of provisions. It was still early 
in the season and the old stags were 
keeping to themselves in the timber, 
not yet having started to “run.” 
Before leaving Bay of Island, we 
had heard from a trapper of a range 
of barren hills] lying east and north 
of the headwaters of the Humber as 
being very plentifully stocked with 
game, and being a long march from 
the river, rarely 
visited by any 
hunters: nis 
man told us that 
he had _ spotted 
(i. e. blazed) a 
line in to these 
hills some three 
years before, but 
that he did not 
know of their 
having been vis- 
ited by any one 
since. As we had 
plenty of time, 
and as a trip in 
this direction 
would tend to 
meet any au- 
tumnal move- 
ment of the cari- 
bou from _ the 
north, we decided 
to have a look at 
this country. 
From Grand 
Lake, by way of 
Junction Brook, 
we made our way back to the Humber, 
which we again ascended to a point 
on the east bank between the lower 
and upper falls of the river. We 
found the point on the shore that the 
trapper had described to us and lead- 
ing away through the forest to the 
eastward, the fading moss grown and 
weather dimmed line spots with which 
he had marked this trail three years 
before. Here we made up a couple 
(Continued on page 55) 
