Book 2 — THE CARIBOO; AND CARIBOO HUNTING

Cervus Tarandus. American Rein-Deer.

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

It is not a little extraordinary, that this magnificent and noble species, which exists in considerable numbers within two hundred miles of the spot where I sit writing, in the Adirondack Highlands—I mean, of New York—which abounds in the north-eastern part of Maine, swarms in New Brunswick and Newfoundland, and indeed everywhere North of the St. Lawrence and Ottawa, to the extremest Arctic Regions yet penetrated by the foot of man, should be yet less known to American writers—even on the topic of Natural History—than most animals of Central Asia, or the inhospitable wilds of Southern Africa. It is not even determined—so little care has been taken in examining or identifying specimens—whether it is one and the same, or a different species from the Reindeer of the Europe-Asiatic continent; nor have any of its peculiarities been noted down, such as the common indications of its stature, antlers, pelage, and color, much less its anatomical and osseous structure, so as to permit of any accurate comparison being drawn, or decision arrived at.

In proof of the loose way in which these self-styled descriptions of rare animals are drawn, in books of solemn pretension and supposed authority, I shall proceed to quote the following from the Encyclopædia Americana—a work of which I can only say, that it is equally profuse of needless information on subjects trite to every Sophomore, and sparing of facts, such as require research and are required by men of ordinary reading, who will search its pages vainly for what on occasion they may need to ask it.

“Reindeer”—says the authority. “These animals inhabit the Arctic Islands of Spitzbergen, and the northern extremity of the Old Continent, never having extended, according to Cuvier, to the southward of the Baltic. They have been long domesticated, and their appearance and habits are well described by naturalists. The American Reindeer, or Cariboo, are much less generally known; they have, however, so strong a resemblance to the Lapland deer, that they have always been considered to be the same species, though the fact has never been completely established. The American Indians have never profited by the docility of this animal, to aid them in transporting their families and property, though they annually destroy great numbers for their flesh and hides. There appear to be several varieties of this useful quadruped peculiar to the high northern regions of the American Continent, which are ably described by Doctor Richardson, one of the companions of Captain Franklin, in his arduous attempt to reach the North Pole by land. The closeness of the hair of the Cariboo, and the lightness of its skin, when dressed, render it the most appropriate article for winter clothing in the high latitudes. The hoofs of the Reindeer are very large, and spread greatly, and thus enable it to cross the yielding snows without sinking.”

And this—without one word of the height, weight, color, or habitat of the animal—is the only information which the Editor of the American Encyclopædia thinks proper to give his readers—except a brief description of Doctor Richardson, about whom he seems to know a little, if he knew nothing about Cariboo—concerning an animal, which is killed almost annually within fifty miles of Albany, sold annually in Montreal, and in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia almost as common an article as venison, or Moose-meat during winter in the markets.

Would not any one suppose, on reading the above, that he was dealing with the description of an animal, which roamed only wastes untrodden by the foot of the white man, save the adventurous explorers of the Arctic Circles, and concerning which no information can be gained by the ordinary naturalists of this country?

Cuvier and Richardson, and Audubon’s stupendous work are not attainable by general readers, or even ordinary writers of cities; to those of the country they are utterly inaccessible—but to Encyclopædists, and to men who sit down to reproduce great works on Natural History, who choose to consult them, they are perfectly and easily open; and there is no shadow of excuse for those who profess to teach others, yet refuse to learn themselves.

Had the writer of the above worthless trash thought fit to compare Doctor Richardson’s description of the Cariboo, which it seems he had read—and which, like all that singularly able naturalist’s descriptions, is doubtless as minute as correct—with Cuvier’s description of the Reindeer, he might have pronounced as easily, as he could whether two and two make four or five, whether the American and Europe-Asiatic deer are identical or different. Godman, in his “Quadrupeds of North America,” though a little more definite than Dr. Leiber, is scarce less bald and brief. Dr. Dekay, whose lamented life has recently been brought to an untimely close, though he suspected it to be a denizen of New York, was not fully assured of the fact, and therefore has not, I think, described it in his Fauna of that State.

I have myself, unfortunately, no immediate access to either Richardson or Cuvier; nor even to any well established work on the Animals of Northern Europe. But I have seen a large herd, in my youth, of the Lapland Reindeer, which, with their Esquimaux attendants were exhibited many years ago in London; previous to a futile attempt at naturalizing them in the Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland; and have a fair, general remembrance of the animal. I possess antlers of the Cariboo, which hang in my hall, and which are accurately portrayed in the wood-cut; I have handled twenty times the hides of this great deer; and I have daily opportunities—in the office of my friend, W. T. Porter, of the Spirit of the Times—to examine the preserved heads and legs of even finer specimens than my own. I have also letters, private, and writings published, of a New Brunswicker, who has killed the Cariboo fifty times, and had opportunities of seeing the European Reindeer, at the Zoological Gardens in London, long since myself. I can, therefore, form a very fair conjecture at the identity or non-identity of the species. At least I can give some particulars of structure, stature, and pelage of the American Cariboo, which will enable others to judge, who are better posted up than I, in the peculiarities of the Lapland Reindeer. And first—I will premise that although I have never seen the Cariboo in life, or in his native woods—which I trust to do before the snows of the next March shall have melted—the wood-cut illustration of this number is so closely made up from measurements of the various parts, heads, antlers, legs and hides of the animal, that I believe it to be as nearly correct as any likeness can be, which is not taken from an especial individual of the race.

In the first place—as to the stature of the Cariboo, I was long ago struck by the statements of the New Brunswick writer, “Meadows,” alias Mr. Barton Wallop, alluded to above, which may be found in Porter’s edition of Hawker’s Field Sports, p. 326-333—“The Cariboo of this country are very like the Reindeer, only a little larger”—and again—“as this is the first time you have seen a Cariboo trail, you will observe it is much like that of an ox, save that the cleft is much more open, and the pastern of the animal being very long and flexible, comes down the whole length on the snow, and gives the animal additional support.”

Arguing on this statement, in my “Field Sports,” knowing Meadows to have seen both animals, that they must be distinct, I pointed out—no one could dream of comparing a Lapland Reindeer’s track to that of an ox, any more than to that of an elephant; and observed further, that the Lapland Reindeer is not a larger, but—to my recollection—a smaller animal than the common American Red-deer, Cervus Virginianus of Naturalists. This coming casually under Mr. Wallop’s eye, he wrote to me, in full confirmation of my opinion, that he had recently seen Lapland Reindeer in the Regent’s Park Zoological Gardens, and wished to amend his former dictum, by saying, that the Cariboo is at least one-third taller than the Lapland deer, and otherwise larger, and in other respects very different. Also, that the Lapland animal is not taller than the British Stag, or the American Common Deer, or, if at all, very slightly so.

Now, to come to my own observation, verified by measurement. The Cariboo antlers in my own possession, not an unusually large pair, measure as follows:

Extreme width from tip to tip, one foot 4½ inches. Length of curvature of antlers, from root to tip, two feet 3½ inches. Direct height, 23 inches. Breadth of the palmated brow antlers, 8 inches. Length of do., 11 inches. Breadth of upper palm, 8 inches. Length of do., 12 inches. Girth at the root of antler, 5½ inches. At insertion of upper prong, 4 inches. Number of prongs at the tips, unequal—three and two. At the upper palms, three. On the lower palms, seven processes, including the principal point.

Compare with this, the measurements of the antlers of a very fine specimen of the common American deer, Cervus Virginianus.

Extreme width from tip to tip, 11 inches. Length of curvature along the back of antlers from root to tip, two feet and half an inch. Direct height, 15 inches.

Observe, however, that the greater curvature in the horns of the American deer, while it causes a larger comparative measurement, leaves a vast excess in height and show to the Cariboo.

In the Cariboo, moreover—see cut—the structure of the horns is directly the reverse of that of any other palmated-horned animal I ever remember to have seen; as the Moose, the English Fallow-deer, and to the best of my recollection the Europe-Asiatic Reindeer. In both the former of these animals, the broad palms form the extreme upper tips; while the lower spurs and brow antlers are round prongs; and, to the best of my memory, the reindeer has no very conspicuous palms at all.

In our common deer, again, contrary to any other deer I have ever seen—except a very noble non-descript specimen recently sent from Calcutta to the Spirit of the Times—the main branch of the antlers curves forward over the brow, offering the main defenses, the true brow antlers being mere erect prongs; while all the tines are posterior to the main branch.

In the American Elk, and in the British Stag, or Red-deer, and in all other round-horned deer I ever saw, the main antlers rise erectly, with a slight backward curve, the brow antler and all the other tines springing from it anteriorly, and forming the true weapons for the animal’s defense.

The Cariboo, therefore, presents a curious combination of the round-horned and palmated-horned deer, in the first instance; and of the usual, and American, round-horn structure, in the second. First, it has the round, pointed tips and sharp, round prongs of the round-horned deer above, with the flat, leaf-like blades of the palmated-horned deer below. And, secondly, it has the forward curve at the tips and backward prongs, above, of the American round-horn, with the terrible brow antlers and forward tines of the usual structure below.

Lastly, it differs from all in this—that its brow antlers, instead of dividing with an outward curve over and without each eye, closes with a straight inward inclination, until the tips almost meet, nearly in the centre of a brow.

Once more, as to size, there are the leg, with hoof, pastern and cannon-bone of an ordinary sized Cariboo; and the leg, with hoof, pastern and cannon-bone of an extraordinarily large-sized American deer, and as such selected, hanging side by side in Mr. Porter’s office. The limb of the Cariboo is considerably more than one-third superior in size to that of the common deer, and is fully equal to that of a yearling heifer of the very largest stature, and from its peculiar structure, being cleft nearly the full length of the pastern to the fetlock-joint, would evidently leave a much larger track.

I have seen and ridden aged thorough-bred horses of fourteen and a half hands—four foot ten inches high—whose limbs were in all respects inferior to that of this superb specimen of the deer tribe; and right confident am I, from observation of several of their heads, their hides and hoofs, that from fourteen and a half to fifteen hands will be found to be the average height of the Cariboo. If the Lapland Reindeer ever exceeds thirteen it will be surprising to me. While on this topic, however, I will beg the first Canadian or Nova Scotian hunter whose eye this may meet, to furnish me with the full statements of height, weight and measurement of any Cariboo he may be so fortunate as to kill, or to have killed, during the present winter. Readers of Graham will find in the February number of the present year a correct and spirited representation of the antlers of the English red-deer; and, if they will look back to the June and August numbers of 1851, they will find those of the moose and American deer, designed by myself from the life, which will far more easily convey the comparison which I desire to draw than written words.

As regards the nature of the pelage, or fur, for it is almost such, of the Cariboo, so far from its being, as the wiseacre of the Encyclopædia states, remarkable for closeness and compactness, it is by all odds the loosest and longest haired of any deer I ever saw; being, particularly about the head and neck, so shaggy as to appear almost maned.

In color, it is the most grizzly of deer, and though comparatively dark brown on the back, the hide is generally speaking light, almost dun colored, and on the head and neck fulvous, or tawny gray, largely mixed with white hairs.

The flesh is said to be delicious; and the leather made by the Indians from its skin, by their peculiar process, is of unsurpassed excellence for leggings, moccasons or the like; especially for the moccason to be used under snow-shoes.

As to its habits, while the Lapland or Siberian Reindeer is the tamest and most docile of its genus, the American Cariboo is the fiercest, fleetest, wildest, shyest and most untameable. So much so, that they are rarely pursued by white hunters, or shot by them, except through casual good-fortune; Indians alone having the patience and instinctive craft, which enables them to crawl on them unseen, unsmelt—for the nose of the Cariboo can detect the smallest taint upon the air of any thing human at least two miles up wind of him—and unsuspected. If he take alarm and start off on the run, no one dreams of pursuing. As well pursue the wind, of which no man knoweth whence it cometh or whither it goeth. Snow-shoes against him alone avail nothing, for propped up on the broad, natural snow-shoes of his long, elastic pasterns and wide-cleft clacking hoofs, he shoots over the thinnest crust, over the deepest drifts, unbroken; in which the lordly moose would soon flounder, shoulder-deep, if hard pressed, and the graceful deer would fall despairing, and bleat in vain for mercy—but he, the ship of the winter wilderness, outspeeds the wind among his native pines and tamaracks—even as the desert ship, the dromedary, outtrots the red simoom on the terrible Zahara—and once started, may be seen no more by human eyes, nor run down by fleetest feet of man, no, not if they pursue him from their nightly-casual camps, unwearied, following his trail by the day, by the week, by the month, till a fresh snow efface his tracks, and leave the hunter at the last, as he was at the first of the chase; less only the fatigue, the disappointment and the folly.

Therefore by woodsmen, whether white or red-skinned, he is never followed. Indians by hundreds in the provinces, and many loggers and hunters in the Eastern states, can take and keep his trail in suitable weather—the best time is the latter end of February or the beginning of March; the best weather is when a light, fresh snow of some three or four inches has fallen on the top of deep drifts and a solid crust; the fresh snow giving the means of following the trail; the firm crust yielding a support to the broad snow-shoes and enabling the stalkers to trail with silence and celerity combined. Then they crawl onward, breathless and voiceless, up wind always, following the foot-prints of the wandering, pasturing, wantoning deer; judging by signs, unmistakable to the veteran hunter, undistinguishable to the novice, of the distance or proximity of their game; until they steal upon the herd unsuspected, and either finish the day with a sure shot and a triumphant whoop; or discover that the game has taken alarm and started on the jump, and so give it up in despair.

One man perhaps in a thousand can still-hunt, or stalk, Cariboo in the summer season. He, when he has discovered a herd feeding up wind, at a leisurely pace and clearly unalarmed, stations a comrade in close ambush, well down wind and to leeward of their upward track, and then himself, after closely observing their mood, motions and line of course, strikes off in a wide circle well to leeward, until he has got a mile or two ahead of the herd, when very slowly and guardedly, observing the profoundest silence, he cuts across their direction, and gives them his wind, as it is technically termed, dead ahead. This is the crisis of the affair; if he give the wind too strongly, or too rashly, if he make the slightest noise or motion, they scatter in an instant, and away. If he give it slightly, gradually, and casually as it were, not fancying themselves pursued, they merely turn away from the remote danger, and instead of flying, merely feed away from it, working their way down wind to the deadly ambush, of which their keenest scent cannot so inform them. If he succeed in this, inch by inch, he crawls after them, never pressing them, or drawing in upon them, but preserving the same distance still, still giving them the same wind as at the first, so that he creates no panic or confusion, until at length, when close upon the hidden peril, his sudden whoop sends them headlong down the deceitful breeze upon the treacherous rifle.

Of all wood-craft none is so difficult, none requires so rare a combination as this, of quickness of sight, wariness of tread, very instinct of the craft, and perfection of judgment. When resorted to, and performed to the very admiration of woodmen, it does not succeed once in a hundred times—therefore not by one man in a thousand is it ever resorted to at all, and by him, rather in the wantonness of wood-craft, and by way of boastful experiment, than with any hope, much less expectation of success.

For once, in my illustration, the trick has been played, and the game wins—the whoop is pealing on the wind beyond the dark, sheltering pines and hemlocks—the herd is scattered to the four winds of heaven—but the monarch of the wilderness, the prime bull of the herd, bears down in his headlong terror full on the ambushed rifle.

Lo! with how brave a bound he clears that prostrate log. But the keen eye of the woodman is upon him; another moment, and it shall glare along the deadly rifle; the sharp, short crack shall awake the echoes of the forest, and ere they shall have subsided into silence, the pride of the woods shall have gasped out his last sigh on the gory green-sward.

But this you will say is fancy—scarcely fact. Be it so. What follows shall be fact, not fancy. For I shall beg leave to quote a few pages from Porter’s Hawker by that “Meadows,” whom I have already mentioned—since his is the best description of this noble sport extant; since to reproduce it, giving his thoughts in my own altered words were rankest plagiary; and since, if it meet his eye, he will be rather pleased than hurt that I have winged his words into a wider field and to a larger audience than he at first addressed them.

I will premise only, that “Howard,” who figures as the hero, is a New Brunswicker, in New Brunswick; “Meadows,” the narrator, an English tyro visiting his friend in the province; Sabatisie, a Micmac Indian, henchman and guide of Meadows; and Billy, last not least, Howard’s pet bull terrier. Scene, daybreak! they have issued from the camp close to the hunting-ground where the Cariboo are supposed to “won”—as Chaucer would have written it—when lo! quoth Meadows—

“After a hearty meal, every thing being ready, we mounted our snow-shoes and marched. The first golden rays were just struggling through the gray East, and dispersing the thick mist which hung over our camp, as I strode forth on my first Cariboo hunt, my heart leaping in anxious anticipation, and my nerves strung by the healthy atmosphere. We proceeded in silence, and had ample time to observe the lonely grandeur of the surrounding forest; the death-like stillness enlivened only by the cheerful chirp of the active ground-squirrel, or the loud boring of that most beautiful of woodpeckers, the Hid. We crossed Cariboo tracks at every step, but still the Indian proceeded, his quick eye glancing at every trail. After about an hour’s walk, we found ourselves ascending a steep mountain. Here the Indian came to a halt: in a low tone he told us that we were now near the Cariboo ground, this being the warm side of the hill, and good feeding ground; cautioning us to be quiet, we again advanced, but had not gone far before we came to a trail that the Indian said was only made last night. Sabatisie chose the outside track of the herd, to take the wind—which, having followed about three miles, brought us to where the Cariboo had rested during the night. Tom placed his hand on the damp snow, and remarked that the Cariboo had not been up much before us, and could not be far off.

“Rifles were now examined, and fresh caps put on—Billy secured by a cord to Howard’s belt. The tracks from the resting-place of the Cariboo branched off in every direction; and the Indian leaving us, took a cast round, some distance, and having ascertained the direction the herd had taken, he returned, and we cautiously followed him. I now perceived that at the bottom of the tracks the snow was a deep blue, and quite soft; we were therefore quite near the game. Sabatisie halted and took off his snow-shoes that he might proceed with less noise. Howard beckoned me to him, and in a low whisper said—‘Do exactly as you see me do—follow close upon my track, and do not for your life make the slightest noise—we are close on them!’

“Sabatisie and Howard now slung their snow-shoes on their backs: to prevent the crackling of the crust, the Indian with his fingers broke the snow before him, and placing his foot in the hole he made, quietly advanced—Howard putting his in the track the Indian had left, I mine in Howard’s. By this means we proceeded without the slightest noise; and as our movements were simultaneous, we should to a person in front appear as one body. Our situations were certainly any thing but agreeable, up to the waist in snow. The trail became every moment more fresh, and the eagle eye of our sagacious guide pried far into the depths of the forest in front. Suddenly he cast himself at full length on the snow, and remained so long in that position that I innocently thrust my head out of the line to see what was the matter; but the Indian glared at me with anger and contempt, and Howard’s sign recalled my senses. In front, the wood being quite open, Sabatisie had seen the Cariboo, and now made for a large pine to shelter his approach. His movements, as he dragged himself along on his belly in the snow, were snake-like; and we followed, endeavoring as far as possible to imitate his very interesting contortions. At last I caught sight of the game. They were a large herd of 18 or 20—some rubbing the bark from the branches—others performing their morning toilet, licking their dark-brown, glossy jackets, and combing them with their noble antlers. All appeared unconscious of the approach of their most deadly foes, save one noble bull, the leader of the herd. He seemed suspicious—with head erect, eyes darting in every direction, ears wagging to and fro, and nostril expanded, he snuffed the breeze. Upon this splendid creature the Indian kept his eye, never venturing to move save when the head of the Cariboo was turned away. Inch by inch we approached the tree. Oh! the agony of suspense I suffered in those few minutes!

“At length we reached our shelter. No time was lost. Howard signed to me to single out a Cariboo, while he took the noble leader, which was about 100 yards distant—the Indian reserving his fire. We stationed ourselves each side of the tree, and our rifles exploded almost at the same moment. Springing up to see the effect of my shot, I was pulled down by the Indian; what was my astonishment to see the bull Howard had fired at, stamping the snow, and gazing around, with fire and rage in his eye, in search of his hidden enemy. As I looked at his formidable antlers, his majestic height, and great strength—a thought of our helpless situation crossed my mind. The Indian now rested his gun quietly on the tree, and took a long, steady aim—the cap alone exploded with a sharp crack! Quick as lightning the bull discovered our ambush, and with a loud snort made directly for us. Defense or retreat against such a foe, in our situation, up to the waist in snow, was almost impossible. In another bound the antlers of the enraged beast would have been in my side, when our gallant little dog dashed forward and seized the bull by the muzzle. Sabatisie and Howard were busily employed putting on their snow-shoes; and I endeavored to do the same, but with little success. The dog had luckily checked the beast, but he was no match for the enormous strength and wonderful activity of his adversary. Tossing his head, the Cariboo beat the poor little fellow on the snow and against the tree, till I thought every bone was broken. Finding this of no avail, the bull reared, and with his fore-legs dealt such a shower of quick and powerful blows, that I expected to see the dog drop every minute. While the Cariboo was in this position, the Indian approached him behind and endeavored to hamstring him. But the eye of the bull was too quick; wheeling like lightning, he made a rush at Sabatisie, which must have been serious, but was avoided by his falling flat on his face, the Cariboo passing over him and wounding his back. Meanwhile Howard had loaded, but his rifle having become wet, he could not discharge it. The violent exertions of the Cariboo had by this time broke the hold of the dog, and the furious beast now turned to the prostrate Indian—but before he could reach his prey, the dog was again at his head, checking, but not stopping his mad career. Sabatisie on his knee received the shock, and at the moment grasping the bull by the antlers, brought him down; when Howard sprang forward and plunged his knife to the hilt in the breast of the Cariboo. With a last mighty effort, the noble creature dashed the Indian in the air, and the next moment his own strong limbs were quivering in death.

“From the commencement of this burst, I confess, I was a little agitated—so much so, that I had not coolness sufficient to tie on my snow-shoes, or load my rifle; but let not any blame me until they themselves have had the pleasure of being placed in the same delicate situation, up to the waist in snow, and one of those emperors of the deer tribe dancing round in mad fury, threatening instant annihilation. On examination, we found Howard’s ball had taken effect just behind the shoulder, and would have caused death in a short time.

“ ‘Hillo! old boy, are you hurt?’ said Tom Howard, seeing the Indian still on his back.

“ ‘Cariboo sartain bery strong,’ grunted the poor fellow. His back was much lacerated. ‘Brother cut some gum, and soon be well,’ said Sabatisie.

“Howard gathered some balsam formed by the sap running from the bark of the fir-tree, and spreading it on a piece of his handkerchief, formed a strong adhesive plaster—staunching the blood, he placed it on the wound.

“ ‘And now, Meadows, what has become of your game—think he is hit?’

“ ‘Yes, by Jove, I’ll bet my rifle to a pop-gun he is—for see, Billy has settled down on his track, and is in chase.’

“ ‘On with your snow-shoes, and away!—the track with the blood will be plain as a van wagon—if you come up with the Cariboo, do not fire unless you are sure to kill. I must stop and see if the Indian is much hurt, and swab out my rifle—but I will soon overtake you—away now!’

“So urged, I started off, and found large drops of blood on the track the prime little dog had taken. As I proceeded, I saw the strides of the Cariboo were shorter, and he had been down several times. As I pressed on, in great hopes of overtaking the game before Howard came up, I observed the Cariboo had made for the valley, and after a sharp walk of an hour, I came to the stream, which was open. Here I lost the track, but saw the marks of the dog down the stream—these I followed, and soon heard the baying of the dog. As I proceeded, the river was every moment more rapid. After a sharp turn the stream was compressed between two huge cliffs, and rushed down a water-gap, forming a cascade of nearly one hundred feet. To the very verge of the fall the river was open; but over the fall itself there was a thin coating of transparent ice, which clung to the perpendicular cliffs on each side of the narrow gap, forming a gauze-like veil. The towering cliffs around were covered with a frosting of ice; and from the stunted pines which clung to the barren rock, hung myriads of fantastic icicles. At the foot of the fall, the blue water rushed out, dashing the white foam many feet in the air; and through the thick woods which overhung the cascade, the sun cast his rays upon the gorgeous prospect, making every object throw forth a thousand brilliant shades, and the glittering ice which encircled the fall was so transparent, that the blue water could be seen beneath dashing furiously down, as if enraged at restraint. Not ten feet from the verge of the fall, on a rock in the centre of the river, stood the wounded Cariboo. The water around him was fearfully rapid—one false step would carry him under the ice, and down the fall. On the bank stood the dog: my first care was to secure him, as he appeared ready every instant to make a spring that must have been fatal. The Cariboo had chosen a most admirable place of retreat; nothing living could approach him with safety. On each side the perpendicular cliffs towered many feet over his head—before him the roaring torrent, and behind the ice-bound cataract. After feasting my eyes on this wild and romantic scene, I approached as near the fall as the rugged cliff would permit. The Cariboo saw me, and with glaring eye-balls he shook his branching antlers in impotent rage, presenting to my rifle his broad front, as in defiance. I am not ashamed to say I was happy when I glanced at the rapid water and rugged cliff between me and my devoted prey; for I have no doubt, had it been in his power he would have soon shortened the distance between us—and after what I had so lately witnessed, I had no very great desire (seeing I was not as yet a perfect harlequin on snow-shoes,) to play the same game over again with my friend on the rock. To put an end to his wishes and my fears, I presented. My ball took effect directly in his brain, and he quietly dropped into the stream, leaving me master of the field. The next moment I could see, through the transparent ice, his glossy hide gliding down the cascade.”

Amiable reader, thus it was that “Meadows” slew his first Cariboo; and thus, pray for me, that I may kill mine, this very month. If I do, believe me, I will try to tell you how I did it, as well—better I may not tell you—as Meadows. And so, until next month, fare you well!