through the water was really marvellous, and for a time it looked as if we would not be able to overtake it with our light canoe and four paddles. Every muscle was strained, both of deer and men, so that the hunt resolved itself into a veritable race for life. Unfortunately for the poor animal, though, the course was too long, and before it could reach the shore we had overhauled and shot it. That night we enjoyed our first meal of venison.
The next day, after descending the river a distance of five or six miles, and getting into a body of water named Carey Lake, through which we were steering a central course, one of the party called attention to something moving on the distant shore to our right. It turned out to be not one but a band of deer. Our canoes were headed to leeward of the band, that they might not scent us as we approached the shore. Drawing nearer we found there was not only one band, but that there were many great bands, literally covering the country over wide areas. The valleys and hillsides for miles appeared to be moving masses of reindeer. To estimate their numbers would be impossible. They could only be reckoned in acres or square miles.
After a short consultation a place for landing, near a small grove of tamarack—one of the last we saw—was chosen. Rifles were examined, and an ample supply of cartridges provided. Shot-guns and revolvers were furnished to four of the men, and thus prepared we landed and drew up the canoes. So far the deer had apparently not seen us, but to prevent a general stampede, it was arranged that I should go around to the rear of a large detachment of the herd, near by, while my brother should approach them from the shore. Accord-
