The cariboo of the British provinces is only to be approached by the sportsman with the assistance of a regular Indian hunter. In old times the Indians possessed and practised the art of calling the buck in September, as they now do the bull moose, the call-note being a short hoarse bellow; this art however is lost, and at the present day the animal is shot by stalking or “creeping” as it is locally termed, that is, advancing stealthily and in the footsteps of the Indian, bearing in mind the hopelessness of success should sound, sight or scent give warning of approaching danger. As with the moose, the latter faculty seems to impress the cariboo most with a feeling of alarm, which is evinced at an almost incredible distance from the object, and fully accounted for, as a general fact, by the size of the nasal cavity, and the development of the cartilage of the septum. As the cariboo generally travels and feeds down wind, the wonderful tact of the Indian is indispensable in a forest country, where the game cannot be sighted from a distance as on the fjelds of Scandinavia, or Scottish hills. Of course, however, on the plateaux of Newfoundland and Labrador, and on the large cariboo-plains of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, less Indian craft is brought into play, and the sport becomes assimilated to that of deer-stalking.

It is almost hopeless to attempt an explanation of the Indian’s art of hunting in the woods — stalking an invisible quarry ever on the watch and constantly on the move, through an ever-varying succession of swamps, burnt country, or thick forest. A review of all the shifts and expedients practised in creeping, from the first finding of recent tracks to the exciting moment when the Indian whispers “Quite fresh; put on cap,” would be impracticable. I confess that like many other young hunters or like the conceited blundering settlers, who are for ever cruising through the woods, and doing little else (save by a chance shot) than scaring the country, I once fondly hoped to be able to master the art, and to hunt on my own account. Fifteen years5 experience has undeceived me, and compels me to acknowledge the superiority of the red man in all matters relating to the art of “venerie ” in the American woodlands.

When brought up to the game in the forest, there is also some difficulty in realising the presence of the cariboo. At all times of the year its colour is so similar to the pervading hues of the woods, that the animal, when in repose, is exceedingly difficult of detection: in winter, especially, when standing amongst the snow-dappled stems of mixed spruce and birch woods, they are so hard to see, and their light gray hue renders the judging of distance and aim so uncertain, that many escape the hunters bullet at distances, and under circumstances, which should otherwise admit of no excuse for a miss.

And now let us proceed to our hunting ground.

The first light snow had just fallen after two or three piercingly cold and frosty days towards the close of November, when our party, consisting of us two and our attendant Indian, the faithful John Williams, (than whom a more artful hunter or more agreeable companion in camp never stepped in mocassin) arrived at the little town of Windsor, at the head of the basin of Minas, whence embarking in a small schooner, we were to cross to the opposite side to hunt the cariboo in the neighbourhood of Parsboro’. The distance across was but a matter of thirty miles or so, and with light hearts we stepped on board, and stowed our camping apparatus, bags of provisions, blankets and rifles in the hold of the “Jack Easy,” when presently the rapidly ebbing tide bore us swiftly down the course of the Avon into the dark-coloured waters of the arm of the Bay of Fundy.

The first part of the voyage was pleasant enough; a light though freshening breeze from the eastward filled the sails ; and we swept on with the surging tide of red mud and water past the great dark headland of Blomidon with its snow-streaked furrows and crown of evergreen forest, enjoying both our pipes and the prospect, and recalling the various interesting traditions of this famed location of the old Acadians whose memory has been so beautifully perpetuated by Longfellow. But on leaving the cape' and standing across the open bay, we soon encountered a rougher state of affairs. The dark murky clouds now commenced discharging a heavy fall of damp snow, which froze upon everything as soon as it fell, rendering the process of reefing, which had become necessary from the increasing breeze, very difficult of accomplishment. The sheets were coated with a film of ice, and frozen stiffly in the blocks, and the deck became so wet and slippery that we were glad to retire below into the close little cabin. We had embarked at sunset, as the tide did not suit until then, and not even a small schooner of the dimensions of the “Jack Easy” can leave the Windsor river until the impetuous tide of this curious bay sweeps up, and, rising to the height of forty feet, bears up all the craft around the wharves from their soft repose in the red mud. It was now dark, and the storm increased; the wind, being against tide, raised a tumultuous sea. Presently there were two or three vivid flashes of lightning, followed by increased violence of the wind and dense driving hail, and the little schooner lay heavily over. We, the passengers, were huddled together in a cabin so small that it was with difficulty we could keep our knees from touching the stove round which we crowded. Everyone smoked, of course, and the strong black tobacco of the settlers vied with the rushes of smoke, driven by the wind down the stove-pipe, in producing in the den a state of atmosphere threatening speedy suffocation, and we were glad to grope our way into the dark hold and seek an asylum amongst the tubs, barrels, and potato sacks which were rolling about in great uneasiness. At last it was over: a quieter state of affairs, a great deal of stamping and slipping on deck, and, finally, the long rattle of the cable, told us we were anchored off Parsboro’—a fact which was corroborated by the captain opening the hatch and lowering himself amongst us, one mass of ice and snow; his clothes rattled and grated as he moved as though they were constructed of board. There was no shore bed for our aching bones that night; the tide did not suit to reach the wharf, the village was a mile and a half away, and the night was still stormy, so we again sought soft spots pn the inexorable benches around the stove in our den.

“Hurrah, John! ” said I, as we followed the Indian up the ladder, and emerged into the cold morning air; “here’s snow enough in all conscience—just the thing for our hunting—step out now for the village, and let’s try and scare up a breakfast somewhere.”

It was still snowing heavily, and the country looked as wintry as it could do even in North America. In the distance appeared the little white wooden houses and church of the village, and behind them rose up the great grey form of the Cobequid Hills. The brisk walk through the snow soon recalled warmth to our benumbed frames, and, the village inn once reached, it was not long ere the ample breakfast of ham and eggs and potatoes, pickles and cheese, cold squash-pie, and strong black tea, was arranged before us.

“Will the Indian make out with you, gents?” asked the exceedingly pretty innkeeper’s daughter. We all glanced at John, who laughed as he anticipated our reply.

“Oh, of course, yes; we are all on the same footing this morning, we guess. Come on, John, sit up and give us some ham.”

The landlord—who affected to be a bit of a sportsman, of course—told us there were lots of cariboo back in the hills, and some moose, which he reckoned would be the great object of our hunting; for, in this part of Nova Scotia, the moose has only recently made his appearance, and the settlers look upon him as far nobler game than the common cariboo. Presently a sleigh with a stout pony appeared for us at the door, and, loading it with our baggage, we left to the tune of a peal of merry bells which the pony carried attached to different parts of the harness.

Our road lay through a valley, skirted by the lofty wooded slopes of the Cobequids. These hills are the great stronghold of the cariboo, and his last resort in Nova Scotia; they extend through the isthmus which connects the province with that of New Brunswick, and are covered with large hard-wood forests of sugar and white maple, birch, and beech. On their broad tops and sides the cariboo has an unbroken range of more than a hundred miles, and their eastern spurs, descending into a flat district of dense fir forests, with numerous chains of lakes, offer secure retreats in the breeding season.

The country was new to us, and its features novel: the evergreen forest, so characteristic of the greater portion of the province, here almost entirely gave way to hard-woods, narrow lines of hemlock or spruce springing up from some deep gorge on the mountain side, here and there showing their dark summits, and coursing like veins through the great rolling sea of maples. The latter part of the storm had been unaccompanied by wind, and the snow lay in heavy masses on the trees, giving the forest a most beautiful aspect; it covered every branch and every twig, and was thickly spattered against the stems, and all the complicated tracery of the denuded branches was brought to notice, even in the deepest recesses, by the white pencil of the snow-storm. In the fir forest the effect of newly-fallen snow is very fine also, but the very masses which cover the broad and retentive branches of the evergreens and clog the younger trees until they seem like solid cones of snow, hinder and choke the view; whereas in these lofty hard-woods, under which grows nothing but slender saplings, a most extensive glimpse of their furthest depths is obtained, and thousands of delicate little ramifications, before unnoticed, now stand out in bold relief in the grey gloom of the distance. And then, when the storm has passed by, and that beautiful blue tint of a wintry sky, coursed by light fleecy scud, succeeds the heavily laden cloud, how exquisitely the scene lights up! what a soft warm tint is thrown upon the light-coloured bark of the maples and birches, and upon the prominent dottings and lines of snow which mark their forms, and how lovely is that light purple shade which continually crosses the road, marking the shadows! As the sun increases in warmth, or a passing gust of wind courses through the trees, avalanches of snow fall in sparkling spray, and the new snow glitters in myriads of little scintillations, so that the eye becomes pained by the intensity of brilliancy pervading the face of nature.

We stopped the sleigh opposite a group of Indian bark wigwams, which stood a short distance from the road; the noise of voices and curling wreaths of smoke from their tops proved them to be occupied, and, as we required a second Indian hunter, particularly one who was well acquainted with the neighbourhood, we followed the track which led up to them, and entered the largest. The head of the family, who sat upon a spread cariboo-skin of gigantic proportions, was one of the finest old Indians I ever saw—one of the last living models of a race now so changed in physical and moral development that it may be fairly said to be extinct. An old man of nearly eighty winters was this aged chief, yet erect, and with little to mark his age save the grizzly hue pervading the long hair which streamed over his broad shoulders, and half concealed the faded epaulettes of red scalloped cloth and bead-work. A necklace of beads hung round his neck, and, suspended from it, a silver crucifix lay on his bare expansive chest. His voice, as he welcomed us, and beckoned us to the post of honour opposite to the fire and furthest from the door, though soft and melodious, was deep-toned and most impressive. Williams, our Indian, greeted and was greeted enthusiastically; he had found an old friend, the protector of his youth, in whose hunting camps he had learnt all his science; the old squaw, too, was his aunt, whom he had not seen for many years.

The chief was engaged in dressing fox-skins: he had shot no less than twenty-three within the week or two preceding, and whilst we were in the camp a couple of traders arrived, and treated with him for the purchase of the whole, offering two dollars a-piece for the red foxes, and five or six for the silver or cross-fox, of which there were three very good specimens in the camp. The skin of the fox is used for sleigh robes, caps, and trimmings. The valuable black fox is occasionally shot or trapped by the Indians, and the skin sold, according to condition and season, from ten, even as high as twenty pounds. The coat of a good specimen of the black fox in winter is of a beautiful jet black colour, the hair very long, soft, and glossy; and, as the animal runs past you in the sunshine on the pure snow, and a puff of wind ruffles the long hair, it gleams like burnished silver. It appears that the whole of the black fox-skins are exported to Russia, and are there worn by the nobility round the neck, or as collars for their cloaks; the nose is fastened by a clasp to the top of the tail, the rest of which hangs down in front.

The old man told us of the curious method he used in obtaining his fox-skins. He would go off alone into the moonlit forest, to the edge of some little barren, which the foxes often cross, or hunt round its edges at night.

Here he would lie down and wait patiently until the dark form of a fox appeared in the open. A little shrill squeak, produced by the lips applied to the thumbs of the closed hands, and the fox would at once gallop up with the utmost boldness, and meet his fate through the Indian's gun.

He regretted that he was too old to accompany us himself, but advised us to take a young Indian who was at that time encamped on the ground to which we were proceeding; and we left the old man's camp, and resumed our trudge on the main road, after seeing him make a successful bargain for his fox-skins.

That afternoon we had reached our destination; the last few miles of the road had been more and more wild and uneven, and at last we drew up before a tenement and its outbuildings which stood on the brow of a hill and overlooked a wide extent of country. It was the house of the last settler, and those great undulating forests before us were to be the arena of our sport. Buckling on the loads, we dismissed the sleigh, and turned at once into their depths.

We had not far to carry our loads, for the Indian camp was erected on a hard-wood hill, within reach of the sounds of the last settler's clearing. This we found afterwards to be a great comfort, as we often called on him for the loan of his sleigh and trusty yoke of oxen, and drew large supplies of fine mealy potatoes from his cellar; great luxuries they are, too, and valuable additions to the camp fare, though they often have to be omitted, when the distance of the hunting country from the settler's house precludes any extra weight in the apportioned loads.

Noel Bonus, the owner of the camp, was at home, just returned from his hunting, for an early dinner, and to him we applied direct to act as our landlord and hunter. I never saw a dirtier or more starved-looking Indian; selfishness and cunning were plainly stamped on his tawny face, which was topped by the shaggiest mass of long black hair conceivable ; he seemed irresolute for some moments as to whether he should admit us, and take the dollar per diem and his share of the meat, or whether he should continue to hunt on his own account, and leave us to shift for ourselves.

We did not urge the point, for we had a first-rate hunter, John Williams, with us, and though he did not know the country, he would soon master that difficulty ; and, as to a camp, .we had all the requisite appliances for quickly setting up on our own account. This became gradually evident to Master Noel, who at last motioned us to take off our loads and come in—a proceeding which we politely declined doing until a thorough renovation and cleansing had taken place, and the dirty bedding of dried shrivelled fir-boughs, strewed with bones and bits of hide and hoof, had been swept out and replaced by fresh. It was a capital camp, strongly built, and quite rain-proof, standing on a well-timbered hard-wood hill, the stems of the smaller trees affording an unlimited supply of fuel; a small spring trickled down the hill-side close by.

As we unpacked our bundles to get at the ammunition (for we were determined to have a cruise around before dark), Noel told us that he had, early that same morning, missed a cariboo not more than a mile from camp. We started in different directions, I with Noel, and my comrade with the older hunter. It was a bright, frosty afternoon, very calm, and the beautiful woods still retained their oppressive loads of heavy snow, rendering it very difficult to see game between the thickly-growing evergreens. Noel first followed a line of marten traps of his own setting—little dead-falls occurring every fifty yards or so in a line through the woods for nearly a mile. There was nothing in them, though I saw several tracks of marten on the snow. Fox-tracks, and those of the little American hare, commonly called the rabbit, on which the fox preys, were exceedingly numerous, and there was a fair sprinkling of the other tracks which are usually found on the snow in the forest, such as lucifee or wild cat, porcupine, partridge, and squirrel. Presently Noel gave a satisfactory grunt, and pointed to the surface of the snow ahead, which was evidently broken by the track of some large animal.

“Fresh track, caliboo, thees mornm,” whispered he, as we came up to the trail of two cariboo, which had gone down wind, and in the direction of some large barrens which Noel said lay about a mile away. We might yet have a chance by daylight, so on we went pretty briskly, though cautiously. Noel pointed out several times small pieces which had been bitten off the lichens growing on the stems of the hard-wood trees, of which they had taken a passing mouthful. Who but an Indian could have detected such minute evidences of their actions? There was no doubt but that they were making for the barrens, or they would have stopped at these tempting morsels longer, and here and there perhaps deviated from the line of march. Probably they knew of companions, and were going to a rendezvous, .or preferred the reindeer moss amongst the rocks on the barren.

The tall forest of maples and birches was presently succeeded by a dense growth of evergreens, which became more and more stunted as we approached the barren, and here and there opened out into moist swampy bogs, into which we sank ankle-deep at every step : finally, we brushed through the thick shrubbery, drenched with the snow dislodged plentifully over us en passant, and stood on the edge of a most extensive barren.

Such a scene of desolation is seldom witnessed, except in these great burnt and denuded wastes of the North American forest. As far as the eye could reach was a wild undulating wilderness of rocks and stumps ; a deep indigo-coloured hill showed the limits of the barren, and where the heavy fir forest again resumed1 its sway. It appeared to be some ten miles or so in length, and to slope from us in a gentle declivity towards the westward. The average breadth might be four or five miles. Little thickets and groves of wood dotted it in all directions ; sometimes a clump of spruce, against which the white stem of the birch stood out in bold relief; or, at others, a patch of ghost-like rampikes; whilst the brooks in the valleys were marked by fringing thickets of alder.

Boulders of rock and fallen trees were strewed over the whole surface of the country in the wildest confusion; and the dark, snow-laden sky cast a shade over the scene, investing it with the most forbidding and gloomy-appearance imaginable.

Carefully scanning the surrounding country, and not perceiving any signs of the game, we proceeded on their tracks, which were soon increased in number by those of three other cariboo, joining in from the southward. They led us through some dense thickets, where we had to proceed with the greatest caution, there being no wind, and on account of the uncertainty of the moment or place where we might come upon them. I was getting tired of the whole proceeding, when, as we were crossing an open spot amongst rocks and sparsely-growing spruce clumps of about our own height, I saw Noel, who was ahead, suddenly stop, with his hand held back, and slowly subside in the snow, which proceedings of course I followed, without question as to the cause or necessity.

“What is it, Noel?” said I, gaining his side by slowly worming along in the snow, with difficulty keeping the muzzle of my rifle above the surface.

“Caliboo lying down,” he replied. “You no see them now? Better fire, I think.”

I could not for my life see the cariboo, although I looked along the barrel of his gun, which he pointed for me in the right direction. They are most difficult animals to recognise unless moving, being so exceedingly similar in colour to the rocks and general features of the barren, that only the eye of the Indian can readily detect them when lying down. Noel had at once seen the herd; and here was 1, unable to perceive them amongst the rocks and bushes, though pointed to the exact spot, and knowing that they were little more than one hundred yards distant. At last I saw the flapping of one of their ears, and gradually the whole contour of the recumbent animal nearest to me became evident.

I now did a very foolish thing, and was determined to have my shot at the nearest cariboo, lying down. The animal was in a hollow, deeply bedded in the snow, so that very little of the back could be seen, and I aimed at the lowest part visible above the snow. I pulled—a spirt of snow showed that the dazzling surface had deceived me, and the bullet ricochetted harmlessly over the back of the cariboo.

Up they jumped, five of them, apparently rising from all directions around us, and, after a brief stare, made off in long graceful bounds. I at once seized the old musket which the Indian carried, but the hammer descended on harmless copper—the cap was useless. “This is bad,” thought I ; for I hate missing the first shot on a hunting excursion, particularly with game to which one is not accustomed, as there is still more fear of becoming unsteady, and missing, on the next chance presenting itself; and I watched the cariboo with longing eyes, and a feeling of great disappointment, as they settled down into a long, swinging trot, and wound in file over the barren, towards the line of forest on the north side. As for the hungry-looking Indian, I did not know whether to have at him on the score of his excessive ugliness, or for not carrying better caps for his gun.

“Get back to camp, Noel, as quick as you can,” said I; “it will be dark in half an hour. Why didn't you put up the cariboo on their legs for me before I fired?”

“Gentleman just please himself,” replied the Indian. “You did very foolish; nice lot of caliboo, them. Maybe other gentleman get shot, though.”

“Oh, it’s the fresh steak for supper you are thinking of,” thought I to myself, feeling as discontented and generally uncharitable as possible. “I hope sincerely they have not, though;” and I trudged after the Indian homewards in an unenviable mood. Fortunately there was an old road leading across the barren towards the settlements, and, presently striking it, we obtained easy walking. A couple of hours, the latter part by moonlight, brought us to our camp. No smoke issued from the top, and everything was as we left it. The others had not returned, and we made up a fire and cooked the meal we so much needed.

“I was almost afraid you were lost, John,” said I, as the blanket which covered the entrance was withdrawn by the returning hunter and my companion, very late in the evening; “any sport?”

“Never fear,” replied Williams, laughing, as he lugged in a great sack of potatoes, and produced a bottle of new milk, and some loaves of home-made bread; “here’s our game. We just had first-rate dinner at settler’s; good old man, that old Harrison.”

They, too, had fired at cariboo, and wounded a young one slightly. It had led them a race of some miles, and finally, having joined a fresh herd, had escaped through the confusion of tracks. However, we retired to our repose on the soft bed of fir-boughs that night, quite satisfied and hopeful. We were in a fine country, evidently full of game, and we looked forward to our future shots with confidence, satisfied, from what we had seen, that the cariboo was one of the finest deer, for sport, in the wide world.

What a hearty meal is breakfast in the winter camp of a party of hunters in the American backwoods! The pure air which enters freely and circulates round the camp, heated by the great log fire in the centre, round which we range ourselves for sleep, regardless of the cold without (except, perhaps, on some especially severe passage of cold, when actual roasting on one side will scarcely keep the opposite from freezing), conduce to sound and healthy repose, and a feeling of wonderful freshness and activity on awakening and throwing off the blanket or buffalo robe early in the morning.

The Indians are already up, one cleaning the guns, or “fixing” a moccasin, whilst the other is holding the long-handled frying-pan, filled with spluttering slices of bacon, over the glowing embers. Their toilet amounts to nil; when well they always look clean, though they seldom wash; though they never use a comb their long, shining, raven-black hair is always smooth and unruffled. We, with our combs, brushes and towels, step out into the cold morning air and betake ourselves to the little brook for ten minutes or so, and then return with appetites whetted either for venison or the flesh of pig, washed down by potations of strong black tea, which has simmered by the embers, perhaps, for the last halfhour.

“John,” said I, as we reclined on our blankets at breakfast the morning after our unsuccessful cariboo hunt, “did you hear the wild geese passing over to the southward last night? I heard their loud ‘honk! honk! several times, and the whistling of their wings as they flew over the camp. It froze pretty sharp, too; the trees cracked loudly in the forest.”

“I hear ’urn, sure enough,” replied the Indian. “Guess winter set in pretty hard up to nor’rerd. I got notion some of us have luck to-day, capten. I dreamin' very hard last night. When I dream so always sure sign we have luck next day. I think it will be you ; me and the other gentleman must go back and try to get the wounded caliboo calf.”

“Very well, then: Noel hunts with me again to-day,” said I, looking at the younger Indian, who nodded assent and drew on his moccasins. “Come on, Noel; put a biscuit in your pocket, and let us be off for the barrens.” It was a lovely morning when we left the camp; not a breath of wind, and the sun shone through the trees, lighting with extraordinary brilliancy the sparkling snow which had been sprinkled during the night with rime frost. All nature seemed to rejoice at the warming influence of the sun's rays. The squirrel raced up the stems with more than usual activity, and the little chickadee birds darted about amongst the spruce boughs in merry troops, dislodging showers of snow, and continuously uttering the cheerful cry which has given them their local sobriquet. The tapping of the woodpecker resounded through the calm forest, and the harsh warning note of the blue jay gave notice of our approach to his comrades and the forest denizens in general. Here and there a ruffed grouse started with boisterous flight from our path, as we disturbed his meditations on some sunlit stump; and, soon after entering the barren, a red fox jumped from the warm side of a clump of bushes where he had been basking, and made oft’ at racing speed—a far handsomer animal than our English Reynard, whose fur is quite dingy compared with the bright orange-red coat of the American.

“Ah! I don't like to see this" said Noel, pointing out some large tracks in the snow; “these brutes been huntin' about here some time. You see that track?— that wolf-track—two of them; them tracks we seen yesterday, when we thought dogs were chasing moose, them was wolf-tracks."

The day before we had noticed the tracks of what we chen thought had been dogs chasing a young calf-moose. At one place—a very deep, swampy bog—they had nearly run into him, for, on the snow, we saw hair which they had pulled from his flanks. It seems that about ten years ago wolves made their appearance in this province in considerable numbers from New Brunswick, and their nightly howlings caused the farmers to look closely after the safety of their stock and folds for some time in certain settlements. They are, however, now rarely heard of.

We had not been long on the barren ere we came on last night's tracks of five cariboo, and we at once commenced creeping in earnest. Presently we found their beds, deeply sunk in the snow, the surface quite soft, and evidently just quitted. Their tracks showed that they had, on rising, commenced feeding along very leisurely on the mosses of the barren; to get at which they had scraped away the snow with their broad hoofs. It was now a capital morning for creeping, as the surface of the snow on the barren was quite soft, loosened by the power of the sun. Now we enter a little bog, with scattering clumps of spruce growing from its wet, mossy surface ; at every step we sink ankle deep into the yielding moss, and the chilling snow-water soaks into our feet. We look anxiously ahead for the game, but they have crossed the bog ; nor are they on the next, which we can scan from our present position. They must be in that dark patch of woods just beyond, which skirts the barren, for we have followed them up to its northern edge. What a pity! for the snow under the shade of the forest is still hard and crusted, and its crunching sound, under the pressure of our moccasins, step we ever so lightly, cannot escape the ear of the cariboo. Yes, they have entered the wood, and just as we prepare to follow them, and gently open our way through the outlying thickets, I hear a light snap of a bough within, which sends my heart nearly to my mouth. Another step, and Noel at once points to game, and I see some shadowy forms moving among the trees, at about fifty yards' distance. Now is the time; an instant more and we should be discovered, and the cariboo bound off scatheless, with electric speed. The quick crack of my rifle is followed by the roar of the Indian’s gun (which I afterwards ascertained contained two balls, and about four drachms of powder), and the branches loudly crash in front as the herd starts in headlong flight.

There was blood on the snow, as we came up to the spot whence they had fled: a broad trail of it led from the spot where the animal I had fired at had been standing. Presently I saw the cariboo ahead, going very slowly, and making round for the barren again, having left the herd. The poor creature’s doom was sealed; for, as we emerged from the woods, we saw it lying down, and a fawn, which had accompanied it, made quickly off on seeing us approach. I would have spared the latter, but the Indian brought it down at once by a good shot at eighty yards. Mine proved to be a very fine doe, with a dark glossy skin, and in excellent condition.

“Plenty fresh meat in camp now,” says Noel, who really looked as if he could have eaten the whole cariboo then and there. He did roast a good junk of it as soon as he could get a fire alight, and the fellow had brought out some salt in a piece of paper in case of an emergency like the present. Whilst Noel was making up the meat with the assistance of the little axe and hunting-knife which are invariably suspended from the hunter’s belt, I lighted my pipe and heaped on the dead logs, which lay •everywhere under the surface of the snow, until we had a roaring fire that would have roasted a cariboo whole with great ease and dispatch. I never saw fatter meat than that of the largest cariboo when the hide was removed ; the whole saddle was snow-white with fat, which covered the meat to the depth of an inch and a half. Having stacked the quarters in a compact pile, and deeply covered them with a coating of snow, we started for home, leaving the offal for the Canada jays and crows; the former were exceedingly impudent, hopping about within a few yards of us, and screaming most impatiently for our departure. Noel of course carried a goodly load of the meat, including many delicate morsels for our camp frying-pan.

Numerous droves of cariboo had crossed the barren since the morning, and, as we were on our way, we saw a small drove of four passing across at a distance of about 500 yards from us. They appeared scared, walking very

ON THE BARRENS.

briskly, and occasionally breaking into a trot. Most probably they had been started by the rest of the party in the woods to the southward. One of them was of a very light colour—the lightest, I think, I ever saw— being of a pale, tawny hue all over; the others were, as usual, dull grey, variegated with dingy white. Sport must have fallen to the lot of anyone who had remained concealed in some central thicket on the barren this afternoon, from the number that must have passed at different times, as appeared by their tracks. Though it was still early in December we had only as yet seen one buck who retained his horns; the does still wore theirs. The one I had just killed had an exceedingly neat little pair, which, but for her untimely end, would have graced her until the ensuing March.

On return to camp, I found that my friend had not been so fortunate; they had not been able to discover the wounded cariboo, and had started two herds without getting a shot. This was owing to the frozen state of the snow in the woods. We had determined to exchange Indians next morning; but, in consequence of his not yet having had success, I agreed to start again with the second hunter, Noel, and leave to my friend the undisturbed possession of the barrens, my direction being the Buctegun plains, which were distant some eight miles or so to the westward. Noel, of course, ate until he could eat no more that night—in fact, I never saw such gluttony as was displayed by this Indian whenever he got a chance. The settler s wife had told me, a few days since, that he made a common practice of going into one house after another along the road, and at each representing himself as starving. His appearance not generally belying his assertion, he has succeeded in getting a dinner at each of four different places on the same day. “But,” she said, “they found him out; and he finds it rather hard to get asked out, or rather in, to dinner now-a-days.” On one occasion, on returning with me to camp, after an unsuccessful morning, a good deal before the usual time for dining, he complained of a severe attack of indigestion, and adopted, as an unfailing remedy, a hearty meal of fried pork—the fattest he could pick out of the bag. He expressed himself to the effect that lubrication was the best remedy for such complaints.

The owls hooted most dismally in the forest that night —a sure sign, as Williams said, of an approaching storm; and, as the sky looked threatening all the latter part of the day, we retired to sleep, trusting to see a fall of fresh snow in the morning, which was much wanted, to obliterate the old tracks, and soften the surface of the crust.

Fresh falls of snow are necessary to continue and ensure sport in the winter hunting-camp, especially in the earlier part of the season. A few bright days thaw the surface so that the night-frost produces a disagreeable crust, which crunches and roars under the moccasin most unmusically; and then, unless the forest trees are shaken by little short of a gale, you may give up all idea of getting within shot of game. Day after day is often thus spent listlessly in camp; the same calm, frosty weather continuing to prevent sport, and the evil of the crust on the snow gradually becoming worse; the Indians shaking their heads at the proposition to hunt and uselessly disturb the country, and betaking themselves to cutting axe-handles, mending their moccasins, or constructing a hand-sled perhaps, whilst you lazily fall back amongst the blankets, and snooze away far into the bright morning, till the noon-day sun strikes down on your face through the aperture in the top of the camp. Then you are told by the dusky cook and steward of the camp that the “pork's giving out" or the “sweetening is getting short," and all things remind you that “it's hard times and no fresh meat, and all for want of a nice little fall of snow. However, there lies a great ball of a thing, all covered with quills, like a hedgehog, in the cook's corner, and the cook recommends that a “bilin" of soup should be instituted; so Master Porcupine is scraped, and skinned, and chopped, and, with an odd bone or two which turns up from the larder, a little rice, and lots of sliced onions, he is converted into a broth, and another day in the woods is cleared by the pork thereby saved. At last, when the bitter reflection of having to return from the woods empty-handed presents itself to you some morning on awakening, the joyous flakes are seen gently falling through the top of the camp, and hissing as they meet the embers of the fire. “Now's your time," says the party all round, and the camp is all bustle and animation—such tying on of moccasins, and buckling on of ammunition-belts, and knives, and axes; not forgetting to provide for the mid-day refreshment, by filling of flasks, and stowing away of biscuits and lumps of cheese. Presently the wind rises, and the storm thickens; the new covering of snow seems to draw out the frost from the old crusted surface, and the moccasin now steps noiselessly in the tracks of the game. That day, or on the next, there is no need of porcupine soup, for huge steaks hang from the camp-poles, and a rich and savoury odour pervades the camp, whilst the hissing frying-pan tops the logs.

The want of a fresh fall of snow had thus interrupted our sports in the Parsboro’ country for some days, when the welcome flakes at last came down one wild stormy night, and covered the forest and barren with a clean mantle of three or four inches, obliterating the old tracks, and softening the crust so that it again became practicable to stalk the wary cariboo. Many times had we started small herds on the barren, and in the greenwoods, without sighting them; the first token of their proximity, and of their having taken alarm, being the crashing of the branches which they breasted in flight.

It was a beautiful hunting morning on which, after the new fall of the previous night, we trudged along the forest-path leading from our camp to the barrens, and made sure of shots during the day, for the change of wind, and the storm, would cause a movement among the deer. A mile or so from camp the snow was ploughed up by a multitude of fresh tracks; a herd of cariboo had just crossed it; there could not have been less than thirty of them, all going south from the barrens. We at once struck into the woods after them, and followed for about an hour, when the herd divided into two streams. One of these we followed, the tracks every moment becoming fresher, until, on passing through a dense alder thicket which grew over water, treacherously covered with raised ice, the ice gave way with a crash, and we at the same moment heard the game start. We rushed on as fast as possible, for they had not seen or winded us, and might possibly think the noise proceeded merely from the ice falling in, ,as it often does when suspended over water and laden with snow. Presently the tracks showed they were walking, and on entering a thick covert of young spruces, whose lower branches, thickly covered with snow, prevented our seeing far ahead, the Indian said, “There—fire!” and a bounding form or two flashed through an opening in the bush with such rapidity that we could scarcely say that we had seen them. Our barrels were levelled and discharged, but, as might be expected, without effect. The deer had been lying down, and had seen our legs under the lower branches before the Indian was aware of their presence.

Williams said, “I 'most afraid we couldn't get shot. Caliboo very hard to creep when shiftin' their ground : don't stop and feed much, and when they lie down they watchin' all the time, and then up agen 'most directly. I know them caliboo makin' for some big barrens, five or six mile away.''

We then turned back to the northward, and, recrossing the road, made for the barrens where my dead cariboo were lying. The place was marked by the great pile of snow which we had shovelled over them, and by the skins suspended on a rampike hard by; no wild animals had disturbed the meat, though great numbers of moose-birds and jays were screaming around, apparently distressed that the fresh snow had covered up their little pickings in the shape of offal, which had been left around. Here we sat down on a log, after clearing off the snow, to eat our biscuit and broach the flasks (for we had trudged many miles since breakfast, and the sun was past the south)—the Indian, always restless, and perhaps anxious to take a survey of the country unimpeded by followers, going off towards the greenwoods, distant a few hundred yards, munching as he went.

“A capital fellow is old John,” said I to my comrade. “I'll bet you what you like he comes back with some news. I’ve often seen him go off in this manner whilst you are eating, or resting, or smoking, and uncertain what to do, and come back in half an hour or so, apparently having learnt more of the whereabouts of the game than he had when in your company during the whole morning’s hunt.”

We were not detained very long, however—indeed, had hardly finished the biscuit—when, on looking towards the edge of the forest, which he had entered a few minutes previously, we saw John emerge, and make his way back to us with unusual celerity; and, seeing there was game afoot, we picked up the guns and advanced to meet him.

“Come on,” says John, “just see three or four of 'em walking quietly along inside the woods—didn’t start ’em, I guess. Be easy, now; lots of time.” And off we go after John, as quietly as he would have us, and soon find the track of the cariboo. John leads rapidly forward, bending almost double to get a glimpse of them through the branches ahead ; but no, they have left the woods, and taken to the open again, and we follow into a swamp thickly sprinkled with little fir trees of about our own height. The bog is very wet, having never frozen, and we sink up to our knees in the swamp, through the wet surface-snow, withdrawing our feet and legs at each step, with a noise like drawing a cork. It is hard work getting along, and already we are rather out of breath; but we must keep on, for cariboo are smart walkers, and until they come to a place where they have an inclination to loiter and browse, are apt to lead one a dance for many hours, particularly when they have taken a notion to shift their country. Ha! there goes one of them; his black muzzle and dusky back just showing above the bushes at the further end of the swamp—and another, and another. “Bang” goes a barrel a-piece from each of us, and the nearest one falters, either wounded or confused, as they sometimes become by the firing. He is again making off, and passing an opening; the other guns floundering forward in hopes of getting nearer, when, steadying myself, and taking good aim, he falls instantaneously to my second barrel. John, with a yell, rushes up, and getting astride of the struggling beast, quickly terminates his existence with his long hunting-knife. It was a fine doe cariboo, with a very dark hide, and in fair condition. The others having never begun fairly within shot, we were satisfied, and after the usual process returned to camp, our path being enlivened by the bright rays of a lovely moon. We all agreed that no finer sport could be obtained amongst the larger game than cariboo-shooting. This deer is so wary, such a constant and fast traveller, and so quick in getting up and bounding out of range when started in the woods, that an aim as rapid and true as in cock-shooting is required; and, when he is down, every pound of the meat repays for backing it out of the woods, being, in my opinion, far finer wild meat than any other venison I have tasted.

The next day I walked with the other Indian (Noel) to the Buctouktdegun plains, some ten miles distant from our camp—great plains of miles and miles in extent, covered with little islands of dwarf spruces of a few feet in height. This is a great place of resort for cariboo; they come out from the forest on to the plains on fine sunny mornings, and scrape up the snow to get at the moss. Having passed a night in a lumberer’s camp, we proceeded next morning to the plains, which the Indian would scan from a tall spruce, to see if there were game on them; and having bagged my cariboo, and given part of it to the lumberers, who seemed very thankful, we made up the hind quarters and hide into two loads, and arrived in camp the same evening. My companion, whose shots I had heard the day previous, had had excellent sport on the barrens, having killed four cariboo; and the following day I killed a magnificent buck, which weighed nearly four hundred-weight, after a long chase of six miles through the green woods from the spot where I had first wounded him, the Indian (it was Williams) keeping on his track, though it had passed through multitudes of others, with unerring perseverance.

Then comes the hauling out the meat. Old H-, the last settler, whose house is not far from our camp, is sent for, and contracts for the job, and one fine morning his voice, as he urges on his patient bullocks towards the camp, and the grating of the sled upon the snow, are heard as we sit at breakfast. Leaving his team munching an armful of hay in the path, he comes to the camp door, and, pushing aside the blanket which covers the entrance, accosts us,—

“Morning, gents. Ah! Ingines, how d’ye make out— most ready to start? We’ve got a tidy spell to go for the cariboo by all accounts, and my team aint noways what you may call strong. However, I suppose we must manage it somehow, and accommodate a gentleman like you appear to be”

“All right, my good man, we are ready; and John and Noel will go ahead and haul out the cariboo from the barren to the road;” and off we go, a merry party, following the ox sled, whilst the old settler shouts unceasingly to his cattle, “Haw! Bright—Gee! Diamond; what are ye ’bout there, ye lazy beasts?” and the great strong animals go steadily forward, occasionally bringing their broad foreheads in violent contact with a tree; but proceeding, on being set right, with perfect unconcern, till we come to the edge of the barren. Here the Indians had already hauled out two of the cariboo by straps fastened to the horns, drawing the carcases easily over the surface of the snow, and in a couple of hours we were again en route for home, with everything packed up, guns in case, and nine cariboo as trophies.

The frozen carcases were pitched down into the hold of the little schooner, the same one which had brought us across before; and in a few hours, with a fresh breeze following us, we grated safely through the floating field of ice which nearly blocked up the basin of Minas, and landed at Windsor, Nova Scotia, and so to Halifax.