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NE WFOVNDLAND

h AND ITS UNTRODDEN IV A YS

J. C. MILLAIS

THE GIFT OF

FLORENCE V. V. DICKEY

TO THE

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

AT LOS ANGELES

THE DONALD R. DICKEY

LIBRARY

OF VERTEBRATE ZOOLOGY

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE WILD-FOWLER IN SCOTLAND.

With a Frontispiece in Photogravure after a
Drawing by Sir J. E. Millais, Bart., P.R.A.
S Photogravure Plates, 2 Coloured Plates, and
50 Illustrations from the Author's Drawings and
from Photographs. Royal 4to, gilt top, 30s. net.

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE
BRITISH SURFACE-FEEDING DUCKS.
With 6 Photogravures and 66 Plates (41 in
Colours) from Drawings by the Author, Archi-
bald Thorburn, and from Photographs. Royal
4to, gilt top, £(>, 6s. net.

THE MAMMALS OF GREAT BRITAIN

AND IRELAND. With 62 Coloured Plates
by the Author, Archibald Thorburn, &c. ;
62 Photogravures and 140 Uncoloured Plates.
3 vols., 4to, gilt top, ;^i8, i8s. net.

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

LONDON, NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA

£^

<yA.^:^(Ce^^i^y/'^'^i..e^ J^ayn-^a^e^ty^^-tyt-c^^'^ .

NEWFOUNDLAND

AND ITS UNTRODDEN
WAYS

J. G. MILLAIS, F.Z.S.

AUTHOR OF "A BREATH FROM THE VELDT," "BRITISH UEER AND THEIR HORNS"

"THE WILD-FOWLER IN SCOTLAND," "THE NATURAL HISTORY OF

THE BRITISH SURFACE-FEEDING DUCKS," "THE MAMMALS

OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND," ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

THE AUTHOR
AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS

LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.

39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON

NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA

1907

■ y — 't I

/SI

Ml. I

"DEDICA TED

HIS EXCELLENCY

Sir WILLIAM MacGREGOR
K.C.M.G.

GOVERNOR OF NEWFOUNDLAND

#-^#^^*:^

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY

PAGES

Newfoundland and its attractions — Caribou and their migrations — St. John's — Daily
papers — Terra-Nova — Guides — Little Mike and his pets — Start up Terra-Nova River
— A bad river — Lake MoUygojack — St. John's Lake — The Beothicks — Their early
history, habits, and treatment by white races — Captain Whitbourne's account —
Lieutenant Cartwright and Captain Buchan's expeditions — Cormack's expedition
— Mary March — Indian methods of killing deer I -30

CHAPTER II

CARIBOU HUNTING NEAR LAKE ST. JOHN

No luck — Move to a new country — First success — Continuous drought — Capture of
another stag — Saunders and his seal-hunting days — A dangerous calling — Story of
Matilda Barworth — Jack's dreams — ^They come true — Discovery of a new lake —
Female caribou and their horns — Stephe the Indian — Stories of Stephe and the men
he did not like 3J-S6

CHAPTER III

BEGINNING OF THE MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE

The French shore question from the Newfoundlander's point of view — Lobsters — Hunting
in timber — A fine stag — A long shot — A poor chance at a good head — Deer begin
to migrate — Baxter Stroud and Noah Dimot — -Equinoctial gales — A thirty-five pointer
— Journey towards civilisation — Conclusion of first trip ..... 57-7'^

CHAPTER IV

EXPEDITION INTO NEW GROUND UP THE GANDER RIVER

Projected visit to Labrador — Boat sails before its time — Decide to try fresh ground in
Newfoundland and be my own guide — The Gander and its difficulties — Unknown
country — ^Judge Prowse — He tells of the inception of the railway — Glenwood —
Sandy Butt — Timber resources of Newfoundland — The " superior " Canadian — The
Gander Lake — Frank de la Barre — Start up river — A shallow stream — The
greater yellowshank — The first meat — Rolling Falls — Flies — Wound a bear — Black
bears and their habits — Bear stories — VVrecking — Close of an unlucky day . 75-102

viu CONTENTS

CHAPTER V
A hunter's paradise

PACES

A great game country — Kill a thirty-five pointer — The uncertainty of" river-hunting" —

Reach open country and kill two fine stags — Love-sick stags .... 103-112

CHAPTER VI

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER AND RETURN TO GLENWOOD

Beautiful country — Successful still-hunting — The river becomes difficult — ^Drought pre-
vents journey across Newfoundland — A hunter's paradise — Hunting incidents — A
great stag at last — Stormy weather — Decide to return — Vagaries of wind — Death of
the forty-nine pointer — The bear and the carcase — Bears wreck the cache — Difficulties
with the boats — Reach Glenwood — The hotel — The " accommodation " train . 1 13-'37

CHAPTER Vn

A VISIT TO THE OUTPORTS OF THE SOUTH COAST

The fascination of Newfoundland — Sport and geography — Modern fin-whaling — The
beauty of Placentia — -St. Lawrence — Doggerel names — Flowers — -Dogs — Sheep — The
curse of ownerless dogs — Butterflies — The natives — Their conservatism — Habits —
Insanitary surroundings — Modes of life — Cod-fishing — Methods of taking cod —
Dangers of the fishing — The Naval Reserve — Its importance in the future . 138-159

CHAPTER Vni

MODERN FIN-WHALING AND THE GREAT WHALES

History of Newfoundland whaling^ — The far-seeing Lord Bacon— The Spanish Basques
— The inventions of Svend Foyn — New methods — Immediate success in Europe and
Newfoundland — Description of the great whales — The blue whale — Adventure of
the Puma — The common rorqual — Chase of the finback — Rudolphi's rorqual —
The humpback — Incidents of humpback hunting — A dangerous whale — Occasional
visitors 160-183

CHAPTER IX

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE

The St. Lawrence whale factory — The whaling steamer — I go for a cruise — A rough ex-
perience— Bad weather and no whales — Hunting finbacks — Sight blue whales —
Details of the chase — A successful shot — The death flurry — ^Methods of raising —
Sharks— Dr. Rismuller 184-193

CHAPTER X

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND

Intend to cross Newfoundland by canoe — ^John McGaw — Voyage along the south coast
— Bale d'Espoir — Mr. Leslie — -W. E. Cormack — The first crossing of Newfoundland
— Pack over the mountains to Long Pond — Trees — A dangerous lake — Soulis Ann,
Brazil, and Little Burnt Lakes — The skilliilness of the Indian — Sunset on Little
Burnt Lake 194-204

CONTENTS ix

CHAPTER XI

THE MOUNT CORMACK REGION AND HISTORY OF THE NEWFOUNDLAND

MICMACS

PAGES

Round Lake— The first stag — Petroleum springs— Shoal Pond — Decide to visit Mount
Cormack — Dead Man's Rapids — Lake Pipestone — Schoolboys again — Abundance of
deer — Stags are scarce — A great rarity — Indian "calls" — Cormack incorrectly
mapped — Bad weather — Return to Shoal Pond — Differences of temperament —
Unscientific doctoring — Joe's melancholia — An excellent hunter — Start into the
unknown country — The Matthews boys — The Micmac Indians — Their numbers —
Religion— Modes of life — Hunting areas — Deer killed by them — List of the Indian
hunters — The chief— The curse of drink- The difficulties of obtaining just laws —
Jealousy of the Indians about their trapping-grounds — ^Joe's anger — Dog Lake —
We kill some meat 205-227

CHAPTER XII

DISCOVERY OF THE SOURCE OF THE GANDER AND INCIDENTS OF
STILL-HUNTING IN THE TIMBER

The attraction of the unknown — The difficulties of Newfoundland exploration — Start
packing towards the east — The source of the Gander discovered — Ascend Partridge-
berry Hill — New lakes — Martin's appetite — I kill a stag on the summit of Burnt Hill
— Beavers — McGaw's first kill — Beaver dams — Plabits — A shot at dawn — ^Journey
down the Gander — We camp for a week — Female caribou with large horns — A
long shot — Hunting on the Gander — McGaw gets a good head — My friend leaves
for the coast — A poor season for heads — Still-hunting in the timber — The caribou
an alert animal in woods — Kill a fine thirty-four pointer — We get " bogged " — Calling
a stag — A curious head 228-248

CHAPTER XIII

WORK AND SPORT IN THE UPPER REACHES OF THE GANDER AND

GULL RIVERS

The lynx in Newfoundland — Abundance of stags — Fine horns — Serpentine Hill — Successful
hunting — Tramping the country — The source of the Great and Little Gull Rivers
— Nearly drowned — Bad weather — Good-bye to Joe — Difficulties on the line . S49-261

CHAPTER XIV

TO MOUNT SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMAC INDIANS

Theories about the caribou migration — Decide to survey the Long Harbor River and
Mount Sylvester country — Sir Robert Bond — Introduction of capercailzie and black
grouse to the island — The GUncoe — Belleoram — Philip Ryan — Indians — Steve
Bernard — Matty Burke — His adventure in St. Pierre — ^Johnny Benoit — The Long
Harbor River—John Hinx — ^John's story of his youth — Willow grouse — Ptarmigan
— Wild grasses — Ponies — A difficult river — New lakes — Matty Burke and Johnny
Benoit leave for their trapping-grounds — End of canoe journey . . , 262-277

X CONTENTS

CHAPTER XV

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING ON THE SHOE HILL AND KESOQUIT RIDGES

PACES

An open country — " Tufts" — The Kesoquit Hills — Louis John's tilt — Micky John — Herd
caribou — Shoe Hill — ^John spies a fine stag — A massive head — The caribou a great
fighter — Go to Mount Sylvester^Heavy packs — A thirty-nine pointer — Stalking
with the camera — Some successes and many failures — Great deer roads — Mount
Sylvester — A splendid view — Abundance of deer — A large hummel — Find a
grand stag — Death of the forty-five pointer — A long stalk ends an eventful day —
The joys of hunting 278-295

CHAPTER XVI

WANDERINGS ABOUT LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER

Close of the rutting season — Kill two stags — Indian bootmaking — Steve's story of the lost
man — Foxes — Abundance of deer — The migration commences — A lucky shot —
Packing and canoeing homewards — Discomforts of winter travel — Appreciation of
Newfoundland 296-308

CHAPTER XVII

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU

The caribou — Local races— Their similarity — The Newfoundland variety — Indian names
— The "toler" — Horns — Indian superstition — Large heads — Author's specimens,
with measurements — Female horns — Food — A great " trek " — Winter habitat —
Migrations — Game laws — Deer not decreasing — Autumnal habits — Fighting — A
reckless animal — Fears — Voice — Glands — PlM;ued by flies — Introduction of reindeer
to Labrador — Introduction of moose to Newfoundland 309-336

APPENDIX
Outfit — Indian names — Colloquialisms — Game laws 337-34°

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATES

Drifting by the Gander Birches
MiLLAis's Lake from the East

Happiness !

"He was jes like that old Rip"
Returning to Camp after a Good Day
A Great Stag .....

Frontispiece
Facing p. 50

58
66

252
296

COLOURED PLATES

Newfoundland Caribou ......

" Man'll goa fer Swoile where gold won't drag 'un '

Rolling Falls

In the Place where no Man Comes ....

Dog Lake

The Newfoundland Willow Grouse ....

. Facing p. 26

. „ 88

94
234
266

LINE AND HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS

" Newfoundland and its Untrodden Ways "

" Shadows we are, and Shadows we Pursue "

Entrance to St. John's Harbour)

The Harbour from the South J

Robert Saunders ....

Little Mike "i

Jack Wells /

Rough Places on the Terra-Nova 1

Hauling Over the Shallows . J

A Fine Old Pine, St. John's Lake)

A MiCMAC Wigwam

Mary March ^

Beothick Canoe J

Title-page
Facing p. i

12
16

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The First Stag's Head (in Velvet)-i

A Good Stag / '

Harp Seals Assembling on the Ice .
Saunders' Waterfall, Terra-Nova River ">
Where a Stag has Cleaned his Horns /

Caribou Swimming

After a Long Shot

Canada Geese

Yellowshanks

What vou can do if there is a Big Stone, &c.

L'Allegro 1

II Penseroso )

He Surveys vou with a Look of Intense Disapproval

Jack Steering his Canoe down a Shallow ^

Results of the First Trip . . . j '

Sandy Butt and Forty-nine Point Head .

A Man's Track — They find it ■>

A Man's Track — About to go / '

A Man's Track — Off . . ^

A Man's Track — Settling Down j • • • •

Six Heads Killed on the Gander, September 1903 .

Preparing Heads ....-»

Beaver Dam on the Upper Gander j ' ' '

Eley Brass Cartridges Chewed by Black Bears ^

Sandy Butt at Work / '

A Dream of Howley

Diamond Cut Diamond

Side View of Forty-four Point Head">

The Forty-nine Pointer as he Fell f ' ' '

Forty-nine Point Head Shot near Little Gull River

Stagings on the Cliff . . . ■)

A Typical Village of the Outports /

Fresh Cod ■>

Drying Fish J" • • • •

Newfoundland Dogs of the Present Day "i

The Fowls are Furnished, &c. . . . /

Old Sweethearts ■»

The Captain about to Fire at a Finback J
The Captain of the Whaler ">
Dusky Mallard or Black Duck /

Facing p.

53
60

71
74
76

81
96

lOI

108

113
119

122

128

13s

138
147

161

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Various VVhalks Spouting Facing p.

A Shot at a Finback .........

A Fighting Humpback „

Humpbacks at Plav .........

The Dying Flurry of the Blue Whale ,

Harbingers of Winter ,,

Joe Jeddore ............

McGaw Fishing ■>

Portaging a Canoe J "

Hauling over a Bad Place on the Baie d'Est -^

Working up the Baie d'Est River . . J ' ' "

"There Goes Four Hundred Dollars!" ■>

No Dinner To-day . . . . J • • • n

Mount Cormack, the Centre of Newfoundland i

Mount Cormack from Pipestone Lake . . J ' ' "

Reuben Lewis, Head Chief of the Newfoundland Micmacs „

Net Otter Trap . ">

Deadfall for Otter j •••■••• "

Trap for Lynx . . ^

Trap for Fox or Marten / "

Sunlight in the Forest .|

Joe making an Otter Trap / "

The Source of the Gander ■>

Joe Testing the Wind . J "

Four Photographs showing Various Methods of Spying ,,

A Simple Snare for the Varying Hare

Longhorned Stag Shot by the Author. September 1905

Gralloching ..... 1

Camp Scene on the Upper Gander / '

Stag's Head with Fine Brow Shovel Shot near

well's Brook, September 1905
Thirty-four Pointer with Irregular Horns Shot near

Little Gull River, September 1905

Belleoram

Belleoram Breakw.\ter and View of the Iron Skull J
Newfoundland Micmacs . "i
How to Carry a Head to Camp J • • • •
MiCMAc Indians Packing with a Load of 120 lbs. .
The Midday Sleep on the Lake Edge . ">

During the Rut the Herd Stag remains, &c J

MiG

165
172
176
193

'95
199

202

206

208

209

21 1
213
220

222

224

225

227

• ))

238

»>

240

))

243

247

))

250

259

•

270

J»

27s

279

xvi INTRODUCTION

special privilege of a natural history licence. This has
allowed me to make extensive journeys which could not
otherwise have been undertaken. My thanks are due to
Sir Robert Bond, Mr. W. D. Reid, the Hon. John Harvey,
the Hon. Edgar Bowring, and Mr. Henry Blair, and especially
to Judge Prowse, who has at all times done everything in
his power to further the success of my journeys with maps
and information. I am also indebted to Mr. Alfred Gathorne
Hardy and Mr. John McGaw for the use of photographs,
and to the latter for his able collaboration in the map of
Central Newfoundland.

The centuries roll by, but our primal passions to chase
and overcome the beasts of the field are just the same as
when Fingal cried, "The desert is enough for me with all
its woods and deer." In his mythological creed the Gael
believed that the Spirits of the Dead found delight in pur-
suing aerial deer over the mountains of the silent land, as
well as those of the earth. The poet Ossian, too, says :
" The departed children of earth pursue deer formed of
clouds, and bend their airy bow. They still love the sport
of their youth, and mount the wind with joy." Spiritualists
tell us that in the future state we shall continue to lead the
lives we have lived here, but with greater joy and wider
scope. If this is so, the pleasure of chasing herds of giant
megaceros on the astral plane will be no little consolation in
the Great Unknown.

J. G. MILLAIS.

Horsham, 1907.

"Shadows we are, and Shaliows we Pursue'

NEWFOUNDLAND

AND ITS UNTRODDEN WAYS
CHAPTER I

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY

The Indians say that when Manitou, the Great Spirit, was
making the Continent of the New World, he found that he
had much material left over in the shape of rocks, swamps,
and useless trees. So he formed a big rubbish heap by casting
it all into the sea to the north-east, and called it Wee-soc-kadao.
Several years after, Cabot discovered and claimed the island
for Great Britain, when it was called Newfoundland.

The world in general knows little of Newfoundland, and
the average Englishman imagines it to be a little bit of a
place somewhere near the North Pole, which, with two or
three other colonies, could be safely stowed away behind the
village pump. If he has been to school, he will have learnt
that it is our oldest colonial possession, famous for codfish,
caribou, and national debts. To him the island is inseparably
connected with fogs, dogs, and bogs, just as he imagines
Africa to be a "mass of lions mixed with sand."

Should he wish to be still further enlightened as to its size,
he will find that one cannot watch seals in the Straits of Belle
Isle and walk down to tea at St. John's on the same day ; in fact,
it is one-sixth larger than Ireland, and has an area of 42,000
square miles. Moreover, it may be of interest to know that

2 NEWFOUNDLAND

the Newfoundlanders are not black or red, but are of a good
old English stock, and that they wash themselves twice a day.

In reality Newfoundland is a most attractive place, with
its thousands of lakes and pools ; picturesque streams teeming
with salmon, trout, and ouananiche ; great open moors and
marshes dotted with the ever restless herds of caribou, A
wild sea-coast inhabited by thousands of sea-birds ; dense
forests of varied and beautiful trees, all contribute to make the
island one of the most delightful of all wild countries to the
sportsman and the lover of Nature.

There is more than a little fascination, too, in knowing
that here is land, within seven days of England,^ a great part
of whose interior has never been trodden by the white man,
even by Government surveyors, and that you can plunge
into this beautiful wilderness and feel all the delights of
wandering at will through the recesses of an untrodden waste,
where deer-stalking — and such deer too! — may be pursued.
It is perfect, because you can do it all by yourself, and not
trust to your guides for this part of the hunt, as the New-
foundlanders, though excellent fellows, are not well versed
in the finer points of the art of venery.

Here in these forests and barrens with their natural
sanctuaries the caribou are holding their own — one of the
few instances where the purely wild game of Europe and
America are not decreasing.

With the exception of some of the large animals, New-
foundland contains much the same fauna as Canada. The

' It is hoped that in two years we shall have a fast route from Ireland to Green
Bay in three days. Messrs. Ochs have entered into a contract with the Newfoundland
Government to build seventeen-knot steamers which are to run every week. The
credit of inventing and the carrying through of this important scheme is entirely due
to Mr. H. C. Thomson. After many difficulties and much hard work it is satisfaction
to his many friends that Mr. Thomson may see his dreams of a quick-transit route
realised.

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 3

black bear is still to be found there ; wolves are very rare,
and lynxes increasing. The principal animal, however, which
is of interest to the hunter and naturalist is the woodland
caribou [Rangifer tarandus terrcs-novcE), which is still ex-
ceedingly abundant in spite of the persecution to which it is
subjected. For its size, Newfoundland to-day contains more
of these animals than any other part of the world ; and,
owing to the nutritive qualities of its super-excellent caribou
moss, the deer grow to a great size and in some respects
throw out finer horns than any other form of the reindeer
in existence, if we except only those of British Columbia,
Alaska, and Labrador.

In the autumn of 1900, my friend, Mr. F. C. Selous,
the well-known hunter, being disappointed of what he saw
of the annual Howley bombardment,' made an expedition
into the centre of the island, more as a sort of preliminary
canter for a future visit than in the hope of catching up the
migrating caribou, for which he had arrived too late. He
was told that no one could get any distance into the interior
owing to the difficulty of carrying food, and that he would
most certainly get "bogged" before he had gone far. But
difficulties of this kind presented no obstacles to a man who
has spent his life in overcoming them ; so getting three men
who were willing to follow him, he started off from Terra
Nova in the middle of November. The tramp was assuredly
a hard one, but it was not undertaken in vain.

He killed one nice stag, and found certain signs in the
interior near St. John's Lake that convinced him of the

' When the September migration sets in, hundreds of camps are set up near
the railway to intercept the deer. The sport, if it may so be called, is dangerous
alike to man and beast, but there are many brave men in the island. At least
four hundred face death annually at Howley, Patrick's Marsh, and the Gaff Top-
sails, and numerous accidents occur.

4 NEWFOUNDLAND

existence of a southern herd, whose presence was unsuspected
by either sportsman or naturalist, and which never journeyed
north in the spring. On this expedition went one Robert
Saunders as packer, a thoroughly reliable man, whom he
engaged to visit this ground the following autumn, if it were
possible to ascend the Terra-Nova River with canoes. So
in the September following, Mr. Selous again went to
Newfoundland, and after some trouble reached St. John's
Lake, where he had excellent sport, killing all his five stags
(one of them a splendid forty-two pointer) in one week. He
saw but few deer, as the migration out of these east-central
forests had only just commenced, but told me he believed
that if I could get farther into the country to the west,
which was quite unknown, I should probably strike the main
trails of a big southern herd. All of this reasoning proved
to be quite correct. Mr. Selous kindly engaged Robert
Saunders and Jack Wells for me, the two men who had
travelled with him, and he spoke of them in the highest
terms. Only those who have been a journey or two to
distant lands know how important it is to have the very best
men in an expedition of this sort ; for there are a hundred
occasions where just a little extra determination and just a
little hard work are necessary to insure success.

I arrived at St. John's on August 23, Mr. Reid, of the
Newfoundland Railways, came to meet me, and offered me
every assistance in his power. Next day Mr. Withers, a
friend I had met in the boat coming out, introduced me to
Mr. T. Murphy, the President of the Marine and Fisheries
Department, and from him I received a permit to collect
for scientific purposes such specimens as I required — an un-
usual concession on the part of the Government, for which I
was most grateful.

Entraxck to St. John's Harbour

The Harbour from the South

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 5

St. John's is a quiet old-world place, something between
a Canadian town and a Norwegian fishing village. On one
side of the beautiful harbour are endless cod-flakes and a
few sealing vessels, and on the other is the main town, built
on the side of a steep hill, where electric trams and lights
add the one jarring note ; but the whole atmosphere of the
place is charming and without noise. They discourage the
American spirit there, and the man who wants to hustle
soon breaks his heart. Business men stroll down to their
offices at ten o'clock, and have always time for a cigar and
chat. Life is very much as it was fifty years ago, with the
addition of a few innovations which the people have been
powerless to prevent. At the summit of the hill are splendid
churches, which seem to give a certain tone of distinction to
the place, and at the back of these are the houses of the
more affluent. Beyond this we find agricultural scenery amidst
rolling hills, and still farther, but not too far for a walk, are
dense fir woods of peace and beauty. St. John's is really
a charming city viewed from a distant spot such as the
verandah of Judge Prowse's house, and after several visits
I was never tired of this landscape.

But to return to the city. The main thoroughfare is
Water Street, where the traveller can obtain anything within
reason. The shops are excellent and up-to-date, and the
people extremely kind to strangers, especially when they come
from the Old Country. The cabs are a feature of the place,
and are drawn by wiry little Canadian horses. When you
go up the steep hills you feel you ought to be prosecuted
for cruelty to animals, and when you come down you wish
you had never been born. You drop from the Cathedral
to Water Street in one horrible swoop, scarcely reassured
by the optimism of the Placentia Irishman who drives you.

6 NEWFOUNDLAND

and who always makes a point of conversing at the most
hair-raising corners. " Och ! slip is it ? " he says ; " sure if
she was goin' down the sides of hell itself, she'd never put a
fut wrong at all, at all. Kim up." In proof of which confi-
dence in his steed, Bucephalus is urged to greater exertions.

If you ask a policeman a simple question, he will not
kill you with his club ; and even the tramcars are not run
for the express purpose of murdering absent-minded strangers
as they are in New York. Life, in fact, is quite safe as long
as you keep clear of the accommodation train and "hert
pie." I have mentioned " hert pie " as a danger to the
traveller, because at every meal you get "hert pie," and it
is so horribly good that many helpings are sure to follow in
rapid succession, to the ultimate ruin of one's digestion.

The daily papers are very funny, especially their items of
local news, and — it need hardly be mentioned — a deadly
enmity exists between the rival editors. Nevertheless they
have several men in St. John's who have done and are still
doing excellent press and magazine work on subjects relating
to the people of Newfoundland, notably Mr. P. T. M'Grath,
of the Herald, and Judge Prowse. The articles of these
writers are always well-informed and accurate, and abound in
the pathos and humour that go to make up the life of the
men of the sea. The following items from the St. John's
Howler are some specimens of another class of literature
that daily meets the eye : —

LOCAL HAPPENINGS

Deer were plentiful at Topsail and Quidi-Vidi last week. Ananias
P. Slechter of Providence, N.Y., shot a fine 72-pointer,

Last night the white steam car belonging to Mr. W. D. Speed ran
into a New York drummer on Water Street. The car will have to go to
Boston for repairs.

Robert Saunders

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 7

In future rotten potatoes will not be taken in lieu of monthly subscrip-
tions. Cape Spear farmers please note.

Happiness and woe are ever joined together in this Vale of Tears.
With the announcement of his election to the constituency of Dirty Bay
comes news of the bankruptcy (for the second time) of our esteemed
townsman, Mr. Charles Sculpin. Sculpin has had a chequered career,
but now that he has drifted into the harbour of peaceful affluence we
trust that he will not forget his many long-suffering creditors. The life
of Charles Sculpin may serve as a beacon light to the youth of this
island, for, without education or the possession of those advantages
which are supposed to conduce to success in life, he has reached a high
pinnacle of fame, and now his foot is on the ladder he will not look back.
There is some talk of making him Minister of Public Instruction.

Another example of low thieving from our news column of last night
occurs in the pages of the Terra-Nova Express this morning. The
incompetent ass who sits in the editorial chair of that dull rag will leap
with joy when he learns that the item in question relating to the death of
the Czar of Russia was quite untrue, and purposely inserted to expose his
infamous pilferings.

News comes from the Labrador of the safety of the Painter-Glacier
expedition which left St. John's on the lOth of this month. After a two
days' stay in Battle Harbour, during which time they borrowed several
boats and provisions from the missionaries of that place, the gallant
explorers are returning in the Virginia Lake, and hope to arrive this
evening. Forty-two new lakes, five rivers, and six new mountain ranges
were noted and charted, and the members of the expedition speak in
high terms of the admirable work achieved by Colonel Painter and Major-
General Glacier. Arrangements for a lecture tour in the States are
already in progress.

Miss Clementina Codflakes, who has been visiting friends in town
this week, returned to her home at Pushthrough yesterday.

Despite the universal impressions to the contrary, the editor of this
paper is always prepared to accept cash on subscriptions.

Owing to an unfortunate error, we referred in a recent issue to that
admirable vocalist. Miss Birdie St. Hilaire, commonly known as "Sure-

8 NEWFOUNDLAND

death Birdie," and now on a visit to the island, as a "bony" warbler,
when it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that we meant "bonny."
Miss Birdie weighs somewhere about seventeen stone, so she arrived
at our office a bit flustered yesterday, and demanded an explanation of
our ungallant remarks. We need hardly say that Miss Birdie is far from
being " bony," and is a perfect lady in every respect.

My canoes, bed, boxes of stores, and waterproof sheet
were all in readiness, so, leaving St. John's by the "accom-
modation " train at four in the evening, I was turned out
at Terra-Nova Station in the darkness at five the next
morning.

Close to the line was a wooden building, where a small
boy of about eleven met me, rubbing his eyes. He said
his name was " Mike," and that he was the stationmaster,
his adopted father, one "Tim," being section man of this part
of the line. Mike I found was a bit of a character, and I
much enjoyed his chatter, and his views on the subject of
Newfoundland in particular and life in general.

" You'd like to see my friends ? " he said.

"Yes, certainly," I replied, wondering who his friends
could be in such an out-of-the-world corner.

"Well, I'll bring them all ter breakfast with you," he
remarked drowsily, folding his arms under the telegraphic
instrument and composing himself for a few hours' sleep. Poor
child, he wanted it ; up six nights a week, and with a heavy
weight of responsibility on his little shoulders, no wonder he
was tired. We snatched forty winks when a cheery voice
from the door, saying, " Glad ye've come," woke me to see
for the first time Bob Saunders and the handsome face of
Jack Wells looking over his shoulder.

It was nearly daylight by the time we had got all our
kit down to the river bank, and started the kettle for break-

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 9

fast. Then the boxes were broken open, and we soon had
an excellent meal in preparation, whilst Jack Wells littered
the whole stock of supplies on the bank preparatory to sorting
it all carefully in bags for disposition in the two canoes.

It is necessary, perhaps, to say a word or two about my
guides. Robert Saunders is a sturdy little man of about 5 feet
6 inches ; his face lined and beard grey, but there was also the
unmistakable appearance that showed the man of vigour and
energy in spite of its fifty-five years, which were all he would
acknowledge. His manner was straightforward and his eyes
possessed the honest and sincere look of absolute truth which
is always found in the best men accustomed to hardship and
the constant strusforle with the forces of Nature. " Little Bob"
had led a hard life if any man ever had in Newfoundland. In a
country where toil in all weathers is the common lot, his life had
been one of exceptional self-sacrifice, and what he had passed
through was certainly beginning to tell on him. He had never
spared himself, nor considered that he was more than some
old pack-horse. Twenty years at the " ice fishing " (seal
hunting), and packing and hunting in the woods in winter
on wretched food, will try the strongest man when we consider
that they are constantly wet through and allow their wet
clothes to dry on their bodies. Yet he had survived it all
while many of his fellows had fallen on one side, and thanked
God daily that He was so good to him in giving him food
to eat and a little croft with a good wife down at Alexander
Bay. I liked Saunders very much at once, and still more so
when I got to know him and his single-hearted efforts to do
everything in his power to insure a pleasant time. Of a truth
he looked a bit shy at me one evening when I got out my
note-book to snatch one of his entertaining stories for future
digestion, and I hoped he wouldn't notice it. But after a bit

10 NEWFOUNDLAND

he evidently considered this no bar to our conversation round
the fire, and rattled away when in the mood.

Jack Wells, too, was also a good fellow. He had a hand-
some, rather melancholy face, with a low, quiet way of talking
that was very nice to listen to, and was both amiable and
good-natured. I make a special point of this, because four
days straight on end barking your shins and slipping off the
greasy stones into the Terra-Nova would try the temper of
an angel, and not once during those four days did I hear
Saunders or Wells swear or complain that the work was beyond
their powers, but took the discomfort to be the common lot
of man. There is a saying that, to be uncomfortable without
being unhappy, you must be either a philosopher or a woman
with tight shoes. Yet neither Bob nor Jack were of this
category.

After the detestable fog of St. John's it was a great
delight to sit and sip one's tea in the pellucid clearness of an
autumn morning, waking to the sun's warmth, " Incalescente
sole aperuisset diem," as old Caesar poetically describes the
dawn of day. The grey mists were drifting off the river-
lake, and showing up the green woods in the distance,
when a splendid herring gull came sailing up along the
shore and pitched within twenty yards of us. His arrival
was the signal for the appearance of the "stationmaster," who
with sundry outcries to his various friends was approaching
our temporary camp. His "friends," I noticed, were all
either four-footed or web-footed, for hurrying at his heels were
two dingy-looking mongrels of undeterminable species, a billy
and two nanny goats, a sheep, another gull, and far in the
rear, endeavouring to keep pace over the logs of an abandoned
saw-mill, three adipose ducks. Occasionally "Mike" would
stop and call to his strange family in various ways, and they

^m. ! /til /

Bt.

]

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 11

hurried along according to the peculiar progression of each.
It was a strange and pretty sight, and still more so when the
herring gull, uttering his familiar " Waw-waw-waw " of his
species, rose, flew up to the boy, and, with outstretched
wings, ran before him to our fireside.

" Well, I hope you've brought the entire menagerie, Mike,"
I said, as we offered to each some acceptable dainty.

"Oh yes," replied the boy, with a sigh, as he poured him-
self out a cup of tea. " They alius go with me everywhere,
'cept of course to trains. Trains is bad for birds. Goats and
sheep can look after theirselves, but birds get kind of silly
when ye pets 'em, Thar was Dan, a big gull like Jack thar
(pointing to the grey bird), I had 'im fer three year, and
he'd 'most come to bed wi' me, but his wing was cut, as I
feared he'd go away altogether. But one day that blamed
fool of a no account engine-man, Bill Straw, what can't drive
for nuts, run over 'im 'ere in Turnover Station and cut his
head off, I wudn't 'a' lost that bird fer ten dollars, an' Bill
said he'd get me 'nother gull, but he never done it. Damn
him," and little Mike sighed and expectorated reflectively.

" How do you get the gulls, Mike?" I inquired,

" Oh, there's plenty come to nest here, summer time, but
they're hard to rear. ' Jack ' thar, now, I took when he
warn't no bigger than a chicken, and though he goes away
winter for a few weeks, he alius comes back in the spring with
the old grey and white fellers, I've had 'im three years
now, and he's a splendid catch. Here, Jack, catch!" said
the little fellow, flinging a piece of bacon rind high into the
air. The sharp-eyed gull instantly floated aloft, and caught
the piece dexterously as it fell. " Tom now thar," continued
my visitor, "he can't fly, as he's kind o' crippled in one wino-,
but he's a great runner ; " and to show his skill a piece of

12 NEWFOUNDLAND

biscuit was hurled twenty yards away, to be instantly raced for,
but Thomas, half running, half flying, proved an easy victor.

"They're great friends to a feller," said the little man
reflectively, adding as an afterthought — " when he ain't at
work."

Poor boy, they were about the only friends he had
to talk to in all the comings and goings of the seasons,
except when a passing hunter or fisherman came to beg an
ounce of tobacco of the old section man. Mike helped us
to stow the last of our packages aboard, and, wishing us good
luck, we left behind the last trace of civilisation in his lonely
little figure meditatively "chucking" rocks for the happy
family to retrieve.

The morning was beautifully fine, with no wind, so we
made good time with the canoes pushing along the river-
lake for some miles before we emerged into the large Terra-
Nova Lake, a fine sheet of water about five miles long and
one and a half across. We landed on a shingly beach to
readjust some of the stores that were not riding well, and
here I saw the fresh track of a small bear, the first sign of
the wild game, always an inspiriting sign to every hunter.
At the west end of the lake, where the river comes in, we
stopped and had dinner, and then on again up a dead stream
for another ten miles or so until sunset. In some places I
had to land whilst the men dragged the canoes, and here
I always found some fairly fresh sign of caribou. By sunset
we halted, and the men made a comfortable camp in a " droke "
(belt) of spruce close to the water ; and though wet to the
waist they did not change their clothes, but lay down soaking
as they were, and allowed the fire to steam the water out.
Next day it was a case of walking up along the stones of
the river bed, while Saunders and Jack dragged the canoes

Rough Places on the Terra-Nova

Hauling Over the Shallows

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 18

through almost continuous rapids the whole day. To prevent
the canoes and their contents from being upset the men were
constantly in the water hauling and easing the boats, whilst
on the slippery rocks they kept frequently slittering and falling
up to their middle the whole day. It was coarse work, and
of a kind that none save those inured to hardship could
stand. " Jest dog's work," was Saunders' definition of the
business.

About midday I sat down by the side of the river to
await the coming of the boats. They were close at hand when
I heard Saunders shout, and looking up stream saw a fair-sized
caribou stag rushing through the shallows about 150 yards
away. My rifle lay resting against a bush, and by the time
I had seized it the chance was gone. After dinner the river
bed became worse and worse, and the men had to spend all
their time amongst very bad rocks, whilst in one part I had
to take to the forest to get along. Newfoundland forest is
not like that of any other country ; it is principally composed
of spruce and white pine, with a few larch, var, birch, dogwood,
and maple scattered amongst them ; and the trees, though not
large, are placed so close together, and interspersed with so
many fallen ones, that progress is excessively arduous. I
was getting along pretty well when, chancing to stand on the
top of a large fallen white pine, the bark suddenly gave way
and I was precipitated over a high rock on to the ground.
Natural instinct compels one to save one's face with the arm
and whatever it holds. Unfortunately in this case the Mann-
licher rifle was the interposing object, with the result that
the stock snapped clean off close to the action. This was
disgusting, to say the least of it, before one had fired a shot.
I had no other rifle, and for the moment I doubted my
capacity to mend the weapon. Saunders, however, was nothing

14 NEWFOUNDLAND

if not a man of resource, and after a protracted search in his
voluminous pockets he produced a screw nail about one inch
long, and, with the aid of a tailor's needle straightened in the
fire, we drilled a hole in the brittle walnut stock and made a
very fair mend of the broken weapon. This was lashed with
string until we killed a caribou stag, when a piece of raw
hide sewn tightly round the narrow part of the stock made
things as firm as ever. However, it gave me a lesson, and
I shall not travel again without a spare rifle.

In the evening we reached the beautiful waterfall of the
Terra-Nova, where, after a stiff portage straight up the hill
and through the forest, we made camp again near the upper
river. The early part of the next day was especially hard
on the men. The stream was so swift and rocky that the
canoes had to be dragged every inch of the way for the two
miles that intervened before Ollygo Lake was reached. I, too,
had no little difficulty in making way through the forest, for
the deep water on the forest edge often forced me to take to
the hillside.

Along this part of the stream I saw many fritillary butter-
flies, and at the entrance of Mollygojack Lake there was a fair
number of birds. Belted kingfishers, goosanders, red-breast
mergansers, Canada geese, and yellow-shank sandpipers were
occasionally moved on the river ; whilst on the lakes of
Mollygojack and St. John's I noticed a good many dusky ducks
(Anas obscurus), the northern form of our mallard. Grebes,
probably Sclavonians, interested me also, great northern divers,
buzzards, peregrine falcon, merlin, and for the first time the
magnificent bald-headed eagle, or bird of Washington, made
Its appearance. In the woods we heard the rattle of and
occasionally saw the beautiful golden-winged and three-toed
woodpeckers, whilst in camp at night the horned eagle-owl

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 15

serenaded us with his melancholy hoots. Twice I flushed
these big birds in the daytime, and they flopped slowly away
as if disturbed out of a siesta. Sometimes as I crept through
the wood at dawn something would impel me to look up, and
meet a pair of great golden eyes that surveyed the intruder
with intense disapproval. The hawk-owl, too, was some-
times seen perched on a withered tree, from which point of
vantage he searched the ground for voles. As yet we had
not met that delightfully cheeky fellow, the Canadian wood
jay, moose-bird, or whisky jack, as he is variously named ;
but of him more anon.

Mollygojack Lake is a fine large sheet of water, roughly
speaking about twenty miles round, and the surrounding
forests are a great summer house of the woodland caribou. It
has one or two pretty little islands, where the great northern
divers evidently breed (I saw two females with young ones close
to them), and it took us till evening to reach the western end
where we camped for the night. Here was plenty of fresh
sign of caribou, but not too fresh, so we decided not to hunt
but to move on next day to St. John's Lake, on which our
hopes were centred, at the camp where Selous had killed
his deer.

We made an early start the next day, August 28, up the
eight or ten miles of lake-river which separates Mollygojack
from St. John's Lake, and which was only difficult for short
distances. Our midday dinner was taken on the river about
half-way, when shortly after re-starting I saw something move
behind a large rock on the left bank about 300 yards
up stream. In another moment the head of a doe caribou
appeared and again disappeared, so we rushed the canoe
under the shelter of a projecting headland, and I landed. After
leaving Saunders and signalling to Jack to keep out of sight,

16 NEWFOUNDLAND

I crawled up along the stones, and immediately saw the doe
standing in nearly the same spot. She was still 250 yards
away, so to make sure of our meat I took advantage of
another miniature headland, and crawled on to make a closer
acquaintance. There was little cover, but the caribou took no
precautions for her safety, and allowed me to come within
80 yards without once raising her head for observation. A
nice rock to shoot from presented itself at this corner, so,
pressing the trigger, I had the satisfaction of seeing the deer
drop dead in her tracks. On a fresh trip, with new men, it
is always a satisfactory thing to kill the first animal at which
you fire, as it gives confidence to your followers and creates
a favourable impression, so I took as much care over the
easy shot at that wretched doe as if I was firing at a fifty-
pointer.

We had some fresh meat now, and after photographing the
animal we cut it up, and then paddled away in high spirits for
St. John's Lake, which we reached about five o'clock. We
had made good progress, but desired to complete the whole
distance to the end of the lake before nightfall, so pressed on.
On the way up the lake we passed four more doe caribou
gazing into the water, like some others of their sex, apparently
lost in admiration of their loveliness as reflected by Nature's
mirror. One old lady allowed us to go by within 15 yards,
and seemed in nowise upset at our presence, as she had not
got our wind. At last our temporary Ultima Thule hove in
sight, the river mouth at the west end, and I immediately
recognised the Indians' observation tree, which Selous had told
me to look out for — a gnarled and bent old white pine, standing
out in picturesque solitude from the forest of spruce. As we
moved up to the landing-place a caribou doe was wading in
the shallows about 300 yards away. She swam slowly across

A FiNii Old Pine, St. John's Lake

A MiCMAC WlUWA.M

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 17

the glassy river, and, after shaking herself like a great dog,
wandered up into the timber right past the very spot where
we were to make our home for a week.

There is little doubt that a family party of Micmacs came
annually to this corner of the lake, and trapped during the
winter. Next morning Saunders and I, poking about in the
forest close at hand, came on their house, which had been
used during the past season. It was a carefully constructed
"tepee" of spruce poles, beautifully lined inside with birch
bark and quite impervious to rain or snow. We saw here,
too, a large hollowed pine which had been cut out for a
trough, in which tanning had been made for curing caribou
skins. Those skins had been then sewn together, and used
as a covering for a canoe. Saunders assumed that these
were some of the regular hunting Indians, which come all
the way from the south coast in the late fall.

Later on in this work I give an account of the Micmacs,
but a word or two about their predecessors may not be
out of place. Recorded history enables us to go back as
far only as the first appearance of European explorers, who
visited the island about four hundred years ago. The " Red
Indians," or Beothicks, were then the occupants of the soil,
and they were said to resemble in every respect the indigenous
tribes of North America, and were probably of the same stock
as the Algonquins.

The Beothicks had straight black hair, high cheek bones,
small black eyes, and a copper-coloured skin. In hunting
and fishing modes they also resembled the natives of the
neighbouring continent, and their weapons, wigwams, and
domestic utensils were also similar. Ethnologists are not
quite agreed as to the nature of their language, but it is
generally accepted that they were probably a small branch

18 NEWFOUNDLAND

of the warlike Algonquins, who at that time were the masters
of the north-eastern continent of Canada.

Cabot landed on Newfoundland in 1497, and found the
Beothicks a numerous and powerful race. Having practically
no enemies, and being naturally ingenious and gentle mannered,
he found them extremely friendly and anxious to show the
white voyagers any hospitality. The rivers and seas of the
country at that time swarmed with fish, and through the
forests and barrens the countless herds of caribou roamed
in comparative security. Consequently the Indians practised
no agriculture, but lived a life of, to an Indian, great luxury,
without the necessity of any form of toil. But after a short
few years of peace the same old story was repeated here, as
everywhere in the world, where the white man comes and
wishes to make the country all his own. Quarrels arose
between the whites and the reds, followed by the usual
deeds of violence, and a bitter enmity that could only end
in the ultimate extermination of one race or the other. As
usual, too, the white man, with his superior brains and superior
weapons of destruction, had the best of it. Yet the Beothicks
held out through some three hundred years, during which
time they were often treated with the greatest brutality, which
was as frequently returned with equal savagery.

When the white men had at length exterminated two-
thirds of the Indians, they became filled with a commendable
spirit of conciliation, and from 1760 to 1823 many attempts
were made to live on friendly terms with the men of the
woods. But it was too late. Experience had taught them
to hate the white man with a deadly hatred, and they now,
after centuries of war, found it impossible to accept any
advances of kindness. Broken and in despair the last of
the Beothicks retreated to the shores of Red Indian Lake,

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 19

where they perished slowly one by one till not a single
member was left.

It is necessary to say a few words concerning the first
writer upon the Beothicks. Captain Richard Whitbourne, of
Exmouth, after having served as captain of his own ship
against the Spanish Armada in 1588, made many voyages
to Newfoundland for the purpose of fishing and establishing
colonies there. He made his first voyage to that country
in 1582, with the intention of trading with "the savage
people" and killing whales. He says of it: "But this our
intended Voyage was overthrown by the indiscretion of our
captaine, and faint-heartedness of some Gentlemen of our
Company. Whereupon we set sail from thence and bare
into Trinity Harbour in Newfoundland : where we killed
great store of Fish, Deere, Beares, Beavers, Scales, Otters,
and such like, with abundance of sea-fowle : and so returning
for England, we arrived safe at Southampton." ^

On his second voyage in 1586 the gallant Captain had
the command of a "worthy shipp, set forth by one Master
Crooke of Southampton." He witnessed the taking posses-
sion of Newfoundland by Sir Humphrey Gilbert in the name
of Queen Elizabeth. After this he made many interesting
voyages to Newfoundland. One of the most striking passages
in his book relates to his meeting and detention by the famous
arch-pirate, Peter Easton, " whom I did persuade much to
desist from his evil course." It is interesting to note that
in 1608 one of Captain Whitbourne's ships was intercepted

' " A Discourse and Discovery of Newfoundland, with many reasons to prove
how worthy and beneficiall a Plantation may be there made, after a far better
manner than now it is— together with the laying open of certaine enormities and
abuses committed by some that trade to that countrey, and the means laid down
for reformation thereof." By Capt. Richard Whitbourne of Exmouth in the county
of Devon. London, 1622. Republished in 1870 at Guildford by Mr. Thomas
Whitbourne under the title of" Westward Hoe for the New-found-land."

20 NEWFOUNDLAND

by an " English erring Captaine (that went forth with Sir
Walter Rawleigh)." The distinction between "an arch-
pirate" and "an English erring Captaine" does not seem to
be very clear.

Another point in this quaint book which he wrote upon
his travels is of great interest to naturalists, for it refers to
the Great Auk {A ice impennis), now, alas, extinct, but which
formerly existed in great numbers on Funk Island, off the
north-east coast of Newfoundland. These birds were always
known as "Penguins" by the inhabitants, and I once met
an old fisherman whose father possessed a stuffed specimen.
He himself used to ride on the back of the bird as a little
boy, little knowing that within his lifetime such things
would be worth four and five hundred pounds.

"These penguins," says Captain Whitbourne, "are as
bigge as geese, and flye not, for they have but a little short
wing, and they multiply so infinitely upon a certaine flat
island, that men drive them from thence upon a boord, into
their boats by hundreds at a time : as if God had made the
innocency of so poore a creature to become such an admirable
instrument for the sustenation of man."

He thus describes the Beothicks and their habits : —

" For it is well knowne, that they are a very ingenious
and subtill kinde of people so likewise are they tractable as
hath beene well approved, when they have beene gently and
politically dealt withal : also they are a people that will seek
to revenge any wrongs done unto them or their woolves, as
hath often appeared. For they marke their woolves in the
eares with several markes, as is used here in England on
sheepe, and other beasts, which hath been likewise approved :
for the woolves in those parts are not so violent and devouring
as woolves are in other countries. For no man that I ever

Mary March

Beothick Caxoe

[From the Model in the Ediuhui-^h Museum)

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 21

heard of, could say that any woolfe, leopard,^ beare or any
other beasts did ever set upon any man or boy in the New-
found-land, although divers times some men have been by
themselves in the woods, when they have suddenly come
near unto them and those Beasts have presently upon sight
of any Christian speedily run from them."

This close association of a friendly character between dogs
and wolves has long been known in Newfoundland, where
amongst early writers it seems to have been a matter of
surprise. Writing in 1622, Captain Whitbourne says that
the wolves frequently came down to the seashore when his
men were labouring amongst the fish, and that on each occasion
his mastiff dog ran to them. " The one began to fawne and
play with the other, and so went together into the Woods,
and continued with them, every of these times, nine or ten
dayes and did return unto us without any hurt. Hereof I
am in no way superstitious, yet is something strange to me
that the wild beasts, being followed by a sterne Mastiff-dogge,
should grow to familiaritie with him, seeing their natures are
repugnant : surely much rather the people by our discreet
and gentle usage, may bee brought to society being already
naturally inclined thereunto."

Later he gives some particulars of utensils, weapons,
canoes, &c., used by the Indians : —

" For it is well Knowne, that the Natives of those parts
have great store of red Okar, wherewith they use to colour
their bodies, Bowes, Arrowes and Cannowes, in a painting
manner : which cannowes are their Boats, that they use to
go to Sea in, which are built in shape like the Wherries on
the River of Thames, with small timbers, no thicker nor

' This plainly refers to the existence of the Canada lynx {Lynx Canadensis)
in the island at this date.

22 NEWFOUNDLAND

broader than hoopes : and instead boords, they use the barkes
of Birch trees, which they sew very artificially and close to-
gether, and then overlay the seams with Turpentine, as Pitch
is used on the Seams of Ships and Boats. And in like
manner they use to sew the barkes of Spruise and Firre
trees, round and deepe in proportion like a Brasse kettle,
to boyle their meat in, as it hath been well approved by
divers men : but most especially to my certaine knowledge,
by three Mariners of a Ship of Tapson, in the county of
Devon : which Ship riding there at anchor neere by mee, at
the Harbour called Heartsease, on the North side of Trinity
Bay, and being robbed in the night, by the Savages, of their
apparell, and divers other provisions, did the next day seeke
after them, and happen to come suddenly where they had
set up three Tents, and were feasting, having three such
Cannowes by them, and three pots made of such rinds of
trees, standing each of them on three stones boyljng, with
twelve Fowles in each of them, every Fowl as big as a
widgeon, and some so big as a Ducke : they had also many
such pots, so sewed and fashioned like leather Buckets, that
are used for quenching of fire, and those were full of the
yolkes of Egges, that they had taken and boyled hard, and
so dryed small as it had been powder Sugar, which the
Savages used in their Broth, as sugar is often used in
some meates. They had great store of the skins of Deers,
Beavers, Beares, Seales, Otters, and divers other fine skins,
which were excellent well dressed : as also great store of
several sorts of flesh dryed, and by shooting off a Musket
towards them, they all ran away naked, without any apparell,
but onely some of them had their hats on their heads which
were made of seale skinnes, in fashion like our hats, sewed
handsomely, with narrow bands about them set round with

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 23

fine white shells. All their three Cannowes, their flesh, skins,
yolkes of Egges, Targets, Bowes and Arrowes, and much
fine Okar, and divers other things they tooke and brought
away and shared it amongst those that tooke it, and they
brought to me the best Cannowe. . . ."

Captain Whitbourne tells us that in 1622 the distribution
of the Beothicks was over the north-west parts of the island,
and on the east side as far south as Trinity Bay. Two
hundred years later when Cormack wrote, the Indians had
retired altogether from White Bay, Green Bay, and the east
coast, but were still in the north and central parts.

Whitbourne states that in his time the ships did not fish
in Trinity Bay, partly on account of the rocky ledges, but
chiefly because "the savage people of that Countrey doe there
inhabit : many of them secretly every year, come into Trinity
Bay and Harbour, in the night-time, purposely to steal Sailes,
Lines, Hatchets, Hooks, Knives and suchlike."

On page 2 Whitbourne says: "The naturall Inhabitants
of the Countrey, as they are but few in number : so are they
something rude and savage people : having neither knowledge
of God, nor living under any kinde of civill government. In
their habits customes and manners they resemble the Indians
of the Continent, from whence (I suppose) they come : they
live altogether in the North and West part of the Country,
which is seldome frequented by the English : but the French
and Biscaines (who resort thither yearly for the Whale fishing,
and also for the cod fish) report them to be an ingenious and
tractable people (being well used) they are ready to assist
them with great labour and patience, in the killing, cutting
and boyling of Whales and making the traine oyle, without
expectation of other reward, than a little bread, or some such
small hire."

24 NEWFOUNDLAND

Later Lieutenant John Cartwright, a brother of the famous
Captain Cartwright of Labrador, was sent on an expedition
up the Exploits River in 1768, and obtained a little infor-
mation of the habits of the Red Indians.' Soon after this
Captain Buchan went twice up the Exploits to Red Indian
Lake, and on the first occasion had two of his marines
killed.

In the winter of 18 10 Captain Buchan forced an interview
with the Beothicks on Red Indian Lake. Hostages were
exchanged, but on the Captain retiring to bring up some
presents which he had left at a depot, the Indians became
suspicious, fearing he had gone to obtain reinforcements with
which to surround and capture them. In consequence they
murdered the two white men that had remained in their hands
and retired into the interior. Captain Buchan was mystified
to find that the Indians had departed on his return, and the
whole story was not made clear until 1828, when the particulars
were explained by Shawnawdithit.

In the year 1828 there was a society in St. John's known
as the Beothick Institution, whose business it was to com-
municate with and if possible civilise the Red Indians, as
well as to ascertain the habits and history of that "unhappy
race of people." The President was W. E. Cormack, who
took a kindly interest in the fate of the Indians, and who
became so interested in them that he undertook a journey
to Red Indian Lake for the purpose of establishing com-
munication with the Red men. On October 31, 1828, he
entered the country at the north of the Exploits in company
with three Indians — an Abenakie from Canada, a mountaineer
from Labrador, and a Micmac from the south coast of New-
foundland. He took a north-westerly route to Hall's Bay,

1 Report of the Beothicks, MS. by Lieutenant J. Cartwright, 1768.

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 25

which he reached in eight days, passing the country interior
from New Bay, Badger Bay, and Seal Bay, a district well
known as the summer resort of the Indians. On the fourth
day he found traces of the savages in the shape of canoe-
rests, spear-shafts, and rinded " vars," — " This people using
the inner part of the bark of that kind of tree for food."
On the lakes near New Bay were the remains of winter
mamateeks or wigwams, each intended to hold from six to
twenty people. Close to these were oblong pits about four
feet deep, designed to preserve stores, &c., some of them
being lined with birch rind. In his report^ Cormack mentions
the peculiar vapour baths of which he also found traces at
this place, and whose use was afterwards explained to him
by Shawnawdithit. "The method used by the Beothicks to
raise the steam, was by pouring water on large stones made
very hot for the purpose, in the open air, by burning a
quantity of wood around them ; after this process, the ashes
were removed, and a hemispherical framework, closely covered
with skins to exclude the external air, was fixed over the
stones. The patient then crept in under the skins, taking
with him a birch-rind bucket of water, and a small bark
dish to dip it out, which, by pouring on the stones, enabled
him to raise the steam at pleasure." Shawnawdithit ex-
plained that the steam bath was only used by old and
rheumatic people.

After traversing the country on the high lands south of
White Bay without finding further traces of the Indians,
whom he had expected to encounter near the passes of the
deer now in full migration, Cormack travelled to Red Indian

' Report of W. E. Cormack's Journey in Search of the Red Indians in New-
foundland. Read before the Beothick Institution at St. John's, Newfoundland.
Communicated by Mr. Cormack, Edinburgh. New Phil. Journ., vol. xx., 1828-29,
pp. 318-329-

26 NEWFOUNDLAND

Lake, but to his great disappointment, he found it had been
deserted for some years by the Indians, "after being tor-
mented by Europeans for the last eighteen years." After
further search on the Exploits River, Cormack returned to
the north on November 29 w^ithout having seen a single
Red Indian. Amongst other interesting relics of these people
which Cormack presented to the Beothick Institution was a
vocabulary of the Beothick language, consisting of two hundred
to three hundred words. This was supposed to have been
given by Cormack to a Dr. Yates, but I have failed to trace
the list, or the descendants of the recipient, which would go
far to prove "the Beothicks to be a distinct tribe from any
hitherto discovered in North America."

During his stay at Red Indian Lake, Cormack found many
recent traces of the Beothicks which show their modes of life,
treatment of the dead, methods of hunting deer, &c.

" One difference," he says, " between the Beothick wig-
wams and those of other Indians is, that in most of the former
there are small hollows, like nests, dug in the earth around the
fire-place, one for each person to sit in. These hollows are
generally so close together, and also so close to the fire-place
and to the sides of the wigwam, that I think it probable these
people have been accustomed to sleep in a sitting position."
He also found a large handsome birch-rind canoe, about
22 feet in length, comparatively new.^ In its construction
iron nails had been used, doubtless stolen from the white
settlers.

John Hinx, a half-breed Micmac, who was present when

' I am enabled to give a photograph of the model of this curiously shaped canoe
by the courtesy of the Director of the Royal Scottish Museum, Edinburgh. In form
it is quite unlike the birch-bark canoes used by the Canadian tribes, being high raised
at the bow and stern. The interior has sheets of birch rind. The exterior is of deal
planking.

D
O

5 i
< =

Q -

% I

§ i

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 27

several of the old wigwam sites were unearthed, has told
me that the floors of these abodes were sunk a foot or two
beneath the ground, which was polished smooth and had
turf seats. On this floor the family slept and kept their
fire alight, one member always being deputed to keep watch.
The lower part of the skin covering was raised from the
ground, and all vegetation removed for a considerable distance,
so that in case of surprise the Indians could bend low with-
out fear of being seen or shot, and send a flight of arrows
at any invader.

Their cleverness is shown by the way in which they
constructed their retreat. A tunnel, sometimes 30 and 40
yards long, was burrowed from the wigwam into the woods,
and by this means the Indians retired when the fight went
against them. They used pots of iron and a few other
simple utensils.

"Their wooden repositories for the dead," says Cormack,
" are what are in the most perfect state of preservation. These
are of different constructions, it would appear, according to
the character or rank of the persons entombed. In one of
them, which resembled a hut 10 feet by 8 or 9, and 4 or
5 feet high in the centre, floored with squared poles, the
roof covered with rinds of trees, and in every way well
seasoned against the weather inside, and the intrusion of
wild beasts, there were two grown persons laid out at full
length on the floor, the bodies wrapped round with deer-
skins. One of these bodies appeared to have been placed
here not longer ago than five or six years."

Cormack's most surprising discovery in one of these
dead-houses was "a white deal affair, containing a skeleton
neatly shrouded in white muslin. After a long pause of con-
jecture how such a thing existed here, the idea of Mary

28 NEWFOUNDLAND

March'^ occurred to one of the party, and the whole mystery
was at once explained."

In the cemetery were deposited alongside the bodies two
small wooden images of a man and a woman, doubtless meant
to represent husband and wife, also a small doll, a pathetic
emblem of Mary March's child which died two days* after
the capture of its mother ; several small models of canoes,
two small models of boats, an iron axe, a bow and quiver
of arrows, birch-rind cooking utensils, and two fire-stones
(radiated iron pyrites), from which the Beothicks produced
fire by striking them together.

Another mode of sepulture described by Cormack was
for the body of the deceased to be wrapped in birch rind,
with his property placed on a sort of scaffold about 4J
feet from the ground, in a manner still employed by
some of the Western American tribes. A third method
was to bend the body together and enclose it in a kind
of box laid on the ground, and a fourth to simply wrap

> Mary March, so called from the name of the month in which she was taken,
was a Red Indian woman who was captured at Mary March's Broolc, near Red
Indian Lake, by an armed party of Newfoundlanders in March 1809. This was the
immediate result of the Government's offer of a reward to any persons who would
bring a Red Indian to them. Her husband was cruelly shot, "after nobly making
several attempts, single-handed, to rescue her from the captors, in defiance of their
fire-arms and fixed bayonets." The body of this red hero was found by Cormack
resting beside his wife in one of the cemeteries at Red Indian Lake. The following
winter, Captain Buchan was sent to the River Exploits, by order of the local govern-
ment of Newfoundland, to take back this woman to the lake where she was
captured, and if possible at the same time, to open friendly intercourse with her
tribe. But she died on board Captain Buchan's vessel at the mouth of the river.
Captain Buchan, however, took her body to the lake, and not meeting with any of
her people, left it where they were afterwards most likely to meet with it. It appears
the Indians were this winter encamped on the banks of the River Exploits, and
observed Captain Buchan's party passing up the river on the ice. They retired from
their encampment in consequence, and some weeks afterwards went by a circuitous
route to the lake to ascertain what the party had been doing there. They found
Mary March's body, and removed it from where Captain Buchan had left it to where
it now lies, by the side of her husband.

The First Stag's Head (in Velvet)

A Good Stag

INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 29

the body in birch rind and cover it with a heap of
stones.

Cormack thus describes the long deer fences made by
the Beothicks, and their method of killing the caribou :
" On the north side of the lake, opposite the River Exploits,
are the extremities of two deer fences, about half a mile
apart, where they lead to the water. It is understood that
they diverge many miles in north-westerly directions. The
Red Indians make these fences to lead and scare the deer
to the lake, during the periodical migration of these animals ;
the Indians being stationed looking out, when the deer get
into the water to swim across, the lake being narrow at this
end, they attack and kill the animals with spears out of their
canoes. In this way they secure their winter provisions
before the severity of that season sets in. . . . What arrests
the attention most, while gliding down the stream (the
Exploits), is the extent of the Indian fences to entrap the
deer. They extend from the lake downwards, continuous
on the banks of the river, at least thirty miles. There are
openings left here and there in them, for the animals to go
through and swim across the river, and at these places the
Indians are stationed, and kill them in the water with spears,
out of their canoes, as at the lake. Here, then, connecting
these fences with those on the north-west side of the lake,
is at least forty miles of country, easterly and westerly,
prepared to intercept the deer that pass that way in their
periodical migrations. It was melancholy to contemplate the
gigantic, yet feeble, efforts of a whole primitive nation, in their
anxiety to provide subsistence, forsaken and going to decay."

A Red Indian woman, named Shawnawdithit,' was living
near the Exploits River with some white people at this

' Sometimes called Shandithit.

80 NEWFOUNDLAND

time, and through the interest of the Beothick Institution she
was sent to St. John's.

Cormack kept this woman in his house all the winter of
1828, eliciting information from her and making notes, which
have most unfortunately been lost. After leaving Cormack's
house, Shawnawdithit went to reside with a merchant at Twillin-
gate, where she lived for a few years. She never became a
Christian, and at her death was buried in a log hut on the
banks of the Exploits, where the woodpeckers and the passing
deer are the only visitors. A portrait, albeit a very poor
one, was taken of Mary March by Lady Hamilton, and is of
interest as the only representation of a Beothick in existence.
I am enabled to give it by the kindness of Mr. Albert
Bradshaw.

CHAPTER II

CARIBOU HUNTING NEAR LAKE ST. JOHN

With such excellent sign of deer on all sides we made sure
that it would not be long before we saw our first stag, but
in this we were woefully disappointed. We stayed a week in
Selous' camp, tramping miles every day up the river, through
the forest, and on to the high ground, without seeing a single
stag, and only one fresh track of a big fellow, and of him, I
believe, I just caught a glimpse as he disappeared into a dense
alder bed. Soon I became weary of thrashing around in this
forest-bound country, and sighed for a place where I could
wander about in the open and look for things with my tele-
scope. Far to the north-west I could see with the glass an
inviting-looking country where the white men had never been —
so Saunders said, and Saunders had penetrated farther than
any one in the swampy regions. So we decided to move on,
as my guide said we could easily cut a road with the axe up
to the high ground, and that we should be nearly sure in
time to strike the main leads of the caribou that were known
to journey south-west from the eastern forests. It sounded
inviting, so we left the next morning, September 4, and
paddled to the northern corner, where a brook came in, A
disposition of the stores was soon made, and we started,
carrying bed, waterproof sheet, and food for three days. This
was enough for the present, for if things looked well Jack
could keep coming back to the lake to fetch whatever we
wanted. Saunders went in front with his axe and cut a path

32 NEWFOUNDLAND

for us to follow, but as we advanced to the higher ground
this became unnecessary owing to the presence of heavily
indented caribou leads, which got broader and more numerous
as we proceeded. Near the upper edge of the forest the
deer roads were so numerous and had been so well used
for years past that Saunders was in the highest spirits, for
these, he said, must be the main trails of which he had sus-
pected the existence somewhere in the neighbourhood. About
midday we emerged on to beautiful undulating high ground
covered with blueberries and a short bush called locally
"goudie." We had hardly done so when four caribou
does came to look at us. A little farther on, two others
came for a close inspection, and though we now wanted
meat badly (having eaten the best part of the doe I had
previously killed), I resisted the temptation to fire, as I
hoped to see a stag very soon.

Everything now looked so promising that I sent Jack
back to the boats to get more supplies, having determined
to make a standing camp here. Even if I waited a month,
I knew the stags were bound to come this way sooner or
later.

After a hurried meal, Saunders and I set off to find the
highest point above our camp, and soon selected a large
stone from whence a splendid view could be obtained for
three or four miles in any direction. Many of the main
trails led up from the woods below, and anything moving
out must be detected. Nor was there long to wait. Almost
as soon as I had got the glass out I spotted a doe and a
calf walking uphill, then another snow-white object on the
edge of the woods revealed another female, and a few minutes
later two more were to be seen moving slowly uphill about
a mile to the left. The glass was here of the greatest

Jl-

CARIBOU HUNTING 83

assistance, for I counted no less than fifteen doe caribou
coming out of the woods before my companion had seen
one. The migration of the females had evidently just com-
menced, for they all passed uphill to the west, and then as
I afterwards found, swung away to the south-west.

It was growing late, but was one of those perfect
autumn evenings that tempt a man just to sit and enjoy
the play of light and shade on distant hill and forest.
Saunders talked away of his seal-hunting days, and I was
quite happy enjoying the landscape, working the glass or
watching the gaggles of Canadian geese that frequently
passed us, for this country was evidently a great breeding-
ground. In a little while it would be too dark to see, and
there really seemed no chance of a stag showing up. It
was too warm, and they were all up by this time in the
forests, munching the moss that grows so luxuriantly within
a few yards of their now well-worn beds.

" A' don't believe there's a blessed stag outside the woods
in Newfun'lan'," said Saunders, yawning as he lay on his
back chewing blueberries and, as he expressed it, " tired o'
lookin'."

" Well," I replied, " I believe there's one anyhow. Bob,"
for at that moment I had caught in the glass the white
stern of a deer feeding about a mile below in a little marsh.
A small bit of horn stuck out at one side, though his head
seemed half-hidden in a peat-hole. I kept the glass fixed,
and in a minute he turned sideways and revealed the form
and antlers of a caribou stag, and a big one too. At last !
There he was, feeding right in the open and the wind
perfect. Just the sight every hunter longs for ! Leaving
Saunders with the glass to watch events, I hurried down the
hill and easily kept out of sight even in a stooping position

84 NEWFOUNDLAND

till within 400 yards of the beast. A momentary glimpse
showed him to be still feeding, so I went on slowly in a
crouching attitude till within 300 yards. Here I found it
necessary to crawl for about 200 yards, and getting a large
rock between myself and the deer found on peeping round
the edge of a stone that I was within 90 yards. There
was evidently no hurry, so I sat down and enjoyed my first
view of one of the grandest beasts in existence feeding
unconcernedly at a short distance.

During five minutes he only once raised his head, and
then only to take a stupid and sleepy survey of his sur-
roundings as the wet moss dropped out of the sides of his
mouth. How splendid his long shovels and bays looked
as he assumed a dignified attitude against the yellow sunset !
But I could not leave him longer as the light was going
fast, so getting a good sitting position against the rock, I
put the white foresight on his heart and fired. Looking up,
to my surprise I saw that the stag had never moved except
to raise his head, and thinking that I must have missed, I
fired again at once and saw four great feet kicking in the air.

He was dead as soon as I got up. Certainly not one of
the best, but nevertheless as I afterwards learned, he carried
a good head. The horns were still in the velvet, and the
beast had evidently just come out for a quiet snack in an
undisturbed place. He gave me the idea of an old animal
going back slightly, as his tops were not up to the mark.

The usual rejoicings over the first trophy may be passed
over, and seeing that the does (which always move a good
fortnight before the stags) were only just beginning to travel,
I knew it would not do to be too sanguine about getting
another stag for some time. We were in for a long wait,
especially as the glorious weather which we had experienced

CARIBOU HUNTING 35

so far showed no signs of breaking. Every morning the sun
rose in a cloudless sky, and every evening set in an ocean
of flame. There had been a wet summer, so we were ex-
periencing the consequent reaction. Saunders, who had never
seen the like before, was nevertheless full of explanations and
prognostications. Every evening he would minutely explain
the particular position of certain clouds, and how they always
foretold rain or snow in Newfoundland, but when the morning
came and the sky was as brilliant as usual, he would be silent
on the subject. Evening, however, always gave him renewed
hope, and he would begin to prophesy again. For three
weeks, during which Saunders repeatedly declared that he
would die of sunstroke if the "tropical" heat continued, there
was not a drop of rain, and Newfoundland experienced the
driest season on record. About this time Saunders ceased
being a weather-prophet and became somewhat sad. " Never
before," said he, "were such things known. To come so far
and see so few stags ! " And I could see that his anxiety
was chiefly because he feared I should be disappointed and
wish to turn home. Nothing, however, was further from my
thoughts. We had plenty of provisions, and I knew that as
soon as the weather broke we should get stags.

" ' I'm clean off my bearings,' as the ' Banks ' captain
said one day in a fog ; ' accordin' to my kalkilations, we're
fifty miles inside the Labrador woods,' and that's about the
size of it jes' now," said my companion one day, as we seated
ourselves after a fruitless tramp. " Sech a sight of deer and
nar' a stag."

For four days we wandered over the high rocky barrens
and "open" timber, hoping to meet a travelling stag. We
made from ten to fifteen miles a day over fairly easy ground,
difficulties only presenting themselves when we entered the

36 NEWFOUNDLAND

wood trails/ which were sometimes "soft" going. Twice
we nearly reached a large lake which we saw to the north-
west, but to achieve this was rather more than we felt inclined
to undertake as yet, until we had exhausted the intervening
ground. The next stag we found involved rather an interesting
follow-on chase, which I give from my diary.

September 8. — At daybreak, from the high ground above
St. John's Lake, I spied eight does and three stags all coming
along the high ridge above the New Lake. They were about
two miles off, and were travelling and feeding at short intervals.
One of the stags seemed to be a big beast with a fair head,
so I determined to try and catch him before he reached the
timber for which he seemed to be making, to lie up for the
day. First we had to cross a wooded valley, and in this we
disturbed two does, which fortunately moved off in a safe
direction. Once on the ridge, and on the spot where we had
seen the game, I spied again, and soon found the white sterns
of the deer, which had fed on for about a mile. They were
walking fast, and when a caribou is walking fast you have
to run. Not more than a mile ahead of the animals was the
opening of the forest, and so it was a case of who would
get there first. The ground was perfectly flat and open,
and so we had to run up-wind, keeping just inside the forest
on the north side so as to gain cover. This made the travel-
ling most arduous. To walk in the tangle of larch scrub,
peat-holes, and fallen trees is hard enough work, but to

' Cormack, writing in 1822, speaking of the abundance of the deer paths, says :
" One of the most striking features of the interior are the innumerable deer paths on
the savannahs. They are narrow, and their directions as various as the winds, giving
the whole country a chequered appearance. Of the millions of acres here, there is
no one spot exceeding a few superficial yards that is not bounded on all sides by deer
paths!'' This is equally applicable to-day, but only of the interior.

CARIBOU HUNTING 87

" head " travelling caribou by running through such obstacles
was almost beyond our strength. Three times we sank to
earth utterly exhausted, and could only be revived by taking
a look at the deer, which seemed to keep almost parallel to
our route. There were only another few hundred yards more
to fight through, and as it was a case of now or never, we
made one final effort and arrived at a long point of small
larch just as the first of the caribou, an old doe, came walking
along. I think a fair chance would hardly have presented
itself even then, had not a broad series of " leads " converged
and led sharply to the right at this point, for the old lady,
after stopping and carefully sniffing about to see if other
deer had passed, determined to adopt this route, and so
threw the game into our hands. I saw they would all come
by nicely, so sat still and strove to quiet my heaving chest.
The rifle performed strange parabolas in the air as I tried
the sight tentatively on her shoulder. It seemed hopeless
to shoot whilst in such a condition, yet the stag was due
in a few seconds, and I must try and compose myself. One,
two, six, eight big does filed slowly past at about a hundred
yards, then after an interval came a small stag, then at a
longer interval another stag about four years old, and then
for a while nothing. Where on earth was the big fellow .■*
Had he left them ? I moved slightly forward to verify my
suspicions, when the rolling horns and broad back of the
warrantable beast came into view. How differently a big
adult walks from a younger one! He seems indifferent to
his safety, especially when in the company of others, and
the Newfoundland expression of "soakin' along" seems to
exactly express his solemn, lazy mode of progression. He
did not seem inclined to stop, even when Saunders and I
both whistled, so I had to take him as he walked. At the

88 NEWFOUNDLAND

shot he " skipped," and I felt sure he was fatally hit. This,
however, was not the case, but as he galloped across my
front, looking quite happy, I fired again and knocked him
head over heels with a bullet through the shoulders. The
other deer now seemed to lose their heads, and ran around
in the most stupid fashion. Even when we went up to the
fallen stag, they behaved altogether as no other deer do
when frightened or suspicious. The stag was a fair-sized
beast, but had rather a poor head, which I had mistaken
for something better, seeing it only on the sky-line ; a mistake
all stalkers may make at times. Yet I wish now I had not
killed him. Saw thirty-five deer to-day.

During the next few days I did nothing but explore and
map the country, and make a few sketches of the new ground
and lakes to the north-west. Sometimes we slept out at night,
taking Jack to carry my bed, and making a shelter of spruce
boughs. The men seemed quite merry and happy now, as
long as they had a good fire of birch and plenty to eat. They
had got over the idea that I wanted to shoot a big stag every
day, and were now content to wait for the good ones when
they should make their appearance. Altogether we had a
very jolly time, and Little Bob told me stories of his early
days which I was never tired of listening to.

Saunders' father had been the master of a little brigantine,
which he had built himself down at Green's Pond, Bonavista
Bay. With this little vessel he went every year to the seals,
and did pretty well till one fatal spring when the boat got
caught in the ice, and was driven ashore at Point o' Feather,
Harbour Grace; but Saunders can tell his own story in
briefer and more picturesque language than I, so I give it
in his own words.

CARIBOU HUNTING 89

" A' got carried to the ' ice-huntin' ' myself when a' was
no more than seven and a half years old," said the old man,
as he reflectively puffed at his twisted plug. " Most wonderful
terbaccer this " — after which a long pause, only broken by
sounds of suction.

"Well, go on. Bob," I said; "tell us all about it."

" What you got that book out for .-' "

"Oh, just to make some notes on seal-hunting."

"Oh," and the old man positively blushed. " Yer ain't
goin' to put me in one of them books o' yours, are ye ? "

" Well, what if I am ? I shan't say anything nasty about
you anyhow, unless you hurry up and get on about that
time you got carried to the ice as a child."

After this threat the tale proceeded without a break, whilst
Jack occasionally offered encouraging suggestions, such as,
"You don't say!" "Well, well. Bob!" " Thet's what it is,
now I

"Ye know a' was brought up 'mongst seals and seal folk,
and a' can't recollect no time when ma dad warn't goin' to
the ice and ma mother warn't scared. Swoiles (seals) was
much to us in the spring, for it meant 'bout what we lived
on whether the seals drove down in the spring or not, and
we struck 'em. So when a' was a little chap ma mother
used to put me to bed and make me say prayers like this
when swoiles was about : ' Lard God Almighty, send a swile
fer daddy, an' send a swile fer mamma, and a swile fer Uncle
Jim, an' wan fer Uncle Jim's wife, an' a swile fer little Tommy,
an' one each fer Jarge an' Mary, an' a swile fer each of Cousin
Will's family, not forgettin' a swile fer Aunt Jane what's a
pore widder. An' oh. Lord, don't let de ice blow off shore
when daddy's aboard, an' bring 'un safe to hum. Amen.'
Then ma mother would call all over our relations to see

40 NEWFOUNDLAND

a' 'adn't forgot none, an' if 'a hadn't remember 'em all she'd
make me say de prayer all again.

" A' was a ' loose ' (active) little kid, and used to help
de men getting things aboard Bona'va Bay when my dad
went to the sea, and one spring a' scooted up on deck and
found de sea runnin' by and us far out in de bay. ' Good
Lord,' said my dad, ' here's dat child, little Bob.' I said I'd
gone to sleep in the cabin just before they was startin'.
They couldn't put back, so a' got took. It was mighty cold,
but a' didn't mind that, as the men were kind to me, and
dad let me come on the ice one day, and I killed a seal.
Ye know, sir, that when we gets to be young men in this
country they don't think much of a chap unless he's bin
to de ice. It's a sort o' test o' hardiness, and the girls
think a heap of the young fellers that's bin once or twice
to the swoile fishin' and come back free with their money.
It's jest dog's work while it lasts, but somehow there's an
excitement in it that sets young fellers kind o' restless in
the spring ; and 'fore they know, they're a-signing on wi' Joe
Windsor or Sam Blandford. We sealers say, too, that man'U go
for a swile where gold won't drag 'un. A' was but fifteen
when old Sam asked me to go wi' him as cabin boy, and after
that a' goes to the ice every spring for twenty-two years."

"Is that so!" interposed Jack, with a look of profound
respect.

There was another long pause, but when a man's in the
humour to talk it is best to do nothing but look interested.
Presently Little Bob resumed :

" My first season wi' Sam we struck the 'harps' (Greenland
seals), nor'-east of the Funks, and killed 4100 in a week.^

' This number was afterwards exactly corroborated by Captain Sam Blandford
in a conversation I had with the "doyen" of the seal-hunters. A sealman takes
a pride in remembering the statistics and returns of every hunt.

CARIBOU HUNTING 41

In those days if you killed two seals you had one of them,
not like now, when you only take every fourth seal, and
sometimes not that. We didn't form ' pans ' (piles) of seals
as they do now, but stuck pretty close to the vessel and
hauled two seals a man. We never spent a night out on
the ice, and alius went off wi' a piece o' fat pork, a few
biscuits an' cakes. When times was good we'd take a few
billets o' wood to make coffee, and eat the raw heart i' the
young ' whitecoats.' Captains was kind to their men, and
looked after them as fren's. We made a bit o' money then,
and them was the good times o' sealing when men weren't
treated worse than dogs as they are now," and Little Bob
puffed fiercely at his pipe.

"Now it's full speed ahead up into the 'good' ice.
Two hundred men in a foul tub not fit to carry thirty, an'
a bully to thrash you out o' your bunk whether you're fit
to go to the ice or no. They fling you out on the floe
ice with a few billets of wood, and steams away a day to
dump off another crowd, and like as not you've got to spend
the night out wi' your clothes freezin' on you, for you're
bound to fall in the cracks least once a night, however ' loose '
you may be. Thar's no room below once the steam winch gets
a-going and seals a-comin' aboard, so up comes the coal, and
what with the grit and the blubber, two hundred men can't
sleep very comfortable on the open decks in a mass of muck,
wi' the cold freezin' your marrow."

" I wonder the men stand it, and they get crews year
after year," I suggested.

" Ah, that's cos you don't know what the poverty o'
Newfun'lan' is," returned the old man sadly. "There's boys
goes once or twice to prove they're men, but the crews dont
consist d them. It's the poor, the very poor, and they just

42 NEWFOUNDLAND

have to go or starve. It's this way. Ye see there's lots
of poor fisher-folk all 'long the coast and islands that never
sees a dollar from one year end to another.

" 'Fore they goes to cod fishin' in summer the merchants
give 'em grub to keep their families all summer while they're
away. Fishin' goes on till October, and by December they've
got nothing, so has to go to the merchants again to get ' tick '
in provisions to last 'em through the winter. Then to pay
this off they hev to go to the seals in the spring or they
won't get no more credit, as the merchants also own the
seal vessels. Only the captains make any money at the
seals, and they're good fellers as a rule, but if they lose
a vessel or let their men ' break out,' as they do at times,
they're soon as poor as the rest o' us. It 'ud make your
heart sore to see the way lots o' these islanders come aboard
the sealin' vessels in the spring — wi' pinched, half-starved
faces, and hardly 'nough clothes to stand a summer breeze.

" Yes, a've seen pretty rough times at the ice, 'specially
in the old sailin' vessel days. One spring wi' dad, we were
out two and a half months without takin' a single ' white-
coat.' We got caught in the ice, and a heavy gale came out
from the nor '-west, and none of us ever expected to see
Green's Pond no more. We was twenty-two days smashin'
to an' fro in the ice, wi' all our boats gone and the bulwarks
stove in, but by-and-by dad got her nose to the gale, and
after lyin'-to five days and five nights the gale rounded,
and we got out and made Harbour Grace half full o' water.
It was rough a' can say, no sleep, in at de pumps all the
time. Next year dad lost his vessel ; got caught in the ice
and drove up in Point o' Feather, Harbour Grace. So a'
shipped wi' Captain John Han for four or five springs.
Then a' went wi' Captain Sam Windsor for a spell ; and

CARIBOU HUNTING 43

then wi' Captain Kane and Captain Green. A' also did two
trips wi' young Bill Windsor.

"Most wonderful sealman was ole Captain Sam Windsor.
The men on the east coast used to say that he could generally
tell where the seals was 'fore he went out. Some twenty
men, friends of mine, went one spring from Green Bay to
Green's Pond, to get a berth wi' Captain Carter. The ship
was about full, so only ten could sign on, and the others
had to walk home again, feelin' sick and hungry. On the
way home they saw ole Captain Sam Windsor standing at
the door of his house, and he after askin' their business
invited the whole lot in to breakfast. Then he says to 'em :
' Don't be downhearted, boys, for not gettin' a berth wi'
Carter. The shore men hev bin haulin' whitecoats these
two days in Green and White Bay. Green Bay is full o'
swoile,^ so hurry home and look on the " driven " ice, and
you'll do better than goin' wi' Carter.' Each of those men
killed about ^60 apiece, and Carter got no seals."

" First spring Bill Windsor, his son, had a steam vessel,
a' went wi' him. She was called the Vanguard, and we
got jammed in the ice off Belleville Island, near to the Grey
Islands, on March 10. We couldn't move, so he sent me,
bein' a ' loose ' ice-man, over the ice to see if a' could get
to the islands and hear news of the seals. It was moon-
light, and a' travelled nine miles over pretty rotten stuff to
the north island, and then nine miles more across the
tickle^ to the next. Then a' had to go six miles across

' The young Greenland seals only very rarely come as far south as this in the
spring, and then only when driven in by an easterly gale.

^ This is a perfectly true story, and well known to all dwellers in St. John's.
The explanation is simple. Captain Windsor, as his nephew told me, perfectly
understood the spring winds and the movements of the floe ice under exceptional
circumstances.

' A strait between two islands.

44 NEWFOUNDLAND

the land 'fore a' met two young men. They told me that
swoiles had been driving by into White Bay for seven days
and seven nights. They themselves had hooked seventeen
whitecoats out o' the slob (shore ice). One told me also
Captain Toomey was anchored under the island, so I went
straight back to my ship and was pretty well done up, as
I hadn't had a bite to eat for twenty-four hours, and had
fell in twice and was 'most froze. By-and-by Captain Bill
comes to me, and asks me if a' would take a teller to
Captain Toomey, as none of the other men liked to go.
So after a few hours' sleep and a feed, a' starts again, and
after a rare job delivers ma letter to Captain Toomey.
' Your Captain, Saunders,' says Toomey to me, ' is of the
same mind as I am. Those seals that's bin passin' is only a
patch o' the southern pack, the main body is away north in
the Straits' (Belle Isle), so when I gets back to my ship, the
Captain he up anchor and were off to the Straits and
the Labrador, and we didn't take nar' a seal. When we
come back to St. John's we finds all the other vessels
had filled wi' seals up in White Bay. So it show's there's
such a thing as being too clever," concluded the old man
sententiously.

I thought he'd finished his seal talk for the time being,
but Jack supplied a sequel by remarking, "Bob, sing us the
song the sealmen used to make 'bout that trip."

"Oh, that's rot, that's nothing."

"Well, let's have a bit of it anyhow, Bob," I suggested.

After some further persuasion the old hunter began to half

sing and half recite the following lines in a cracked voice : —

" Come all you jolly Ice-men
That ploughs the ragin' Main,
I'll tell ye of the Vanguard,
Likewise our Captain's name.

CARIBOU HUNTING 45

His name is Captain Windsor,
Sailed out from Bonava's Bay,
In search of those young whitecoats
But still he got astray.

We steamed her down off Belleville
Our trials do begin

'Twas there we did get frozen in

For three long days or four,

We drift by the Grey Islands

And very near ashore.

'Twas here early next morning

Our Captain come on deck,

He says unto John William,

' Bob Saunders, you'll go get —

Bob Saunders, you'll go get, my boy,

And try to get on shore,

Or hear from Captain Toomey

On board the Commodore!

We boarded Captain Toomey,

As you may understand,

A steamboat nigh three miles from us,

A frozen in the ' Jamb.'

A breakage from the Gull rock
It set the Vanguard free ;
She steamed into the harbour,
'Long with the other three.
Our people from the Island
These words I hear them say,
The Walrus and Paslusha
Driven in White Bay
Slipped in the spot of seals."

"A' don't remember no more," broke off Saunders, sud-
denly becoming modest, "but it's mostly rot 'bout myself;"
and he refused to speak further of his plucky act.

Hunting the Greenland seal from ships and hunting the
same from the storm-swept coast of Newfoundland are two
different matters. The chase in both cases is beset with

46 NEWFOUNDLAND

sudden and dreadful dangers, seldom foreseen and often
incapable of being warded off. In both, the advent of
sudden storms may cause the grinding heavy mass to pack
on the coast, and thence whirl it seawards again where it is
dispersed in fragments with its human freight. The ships
can often, and generally do, rescue their men when these
untoward circumstances occur ; but the lot of the poor coast
hunter who snatches his precarious living from the outports
is hardness itself, for when difficulties come he has but his
own wits and bravery to help him. The wind that sweeps
the ice in, bearing on its bosom the tempting whitecoat,
may veer at any moment and drive the whole mass off
shore again, and then only the watchfulness of the land
look-outs and the ready resources of the men can save a
disaster. It takes real and solid courage to make a good
seal hunter ; not the somewhat theatrical bravery of the
soldier who leads a forlorn hope, but the dogged three
o'clock in the morning article that takes things humbly and
expects but little reward.

The true story of the Newfoundland ice-fields is not nor
ever will be written, nor will the names of its many heroes
be penned in the pages of an undying history, but in the
minds of many to-day who have taken part in that annual
strife with the forces of nature there live scores of instances
of marvellous courage and unselfish devotion.

Down on the barren east coast they tell the story of
Matilda Barworth and her half-witted son, born out of wed-
lock. She loved the boy who grew almost to man's estate,
and when he crept off in his quiet way after the others in
the spring-time she used to watch in the dusk for his
return, going with the other women of the village ; for, in
their universal charity, she had long since been forgiven.

CARIBOU HUNTING 47

One evening, as the men were returning, the wind veered
suddenly, and in less than a minute there was a wide gap
formed between the rocks on the shore and the pack. This
little "tickle," as it is called, was not quite open water, but
a space of slushy, fine fragments of ice on which none can
run except the most experienced ice-men. In a few minutes
most of the men, being skilled from their youth, ran across
the dividing distance, which was every moment becoming
broader. As the roll of the ocean caused the rotten ice to
rise, they fell on their faces and lay flat, thus preventing
a slip through. All passed safely over except Jim Barworth,
whose courage seemed to have deserted him.

"Come, Jim, boy, try it now," cried his mother. "You
can do it sure."

But Jim could not face it, and ran backwards and forwards
in a panic. She kept calling to him again and again as
an anxious hind calls her calf, but he would not come, and
sank on the ice hiding his face in his hands. Suddenly the
woman ran out on the rotten ice and would perhaps have
crossed, had not a wave risen, formed a crack, into which
she disappeared for ever. At that moment Jim looked up
and sprang to his feet, for he loved his mother much. He
gave but one glance round and rushed across the dreaded
space with outstretched arms. But too late. The crack
opened again, and in Death mother and son were not
divided.

The weather still being brilliant, I revisited Selous' camp
for two days, and then went down to the east end of the
St. John's Lake for another two days, but in neither of these
places did we see even a small stag, so returned again to
my standing camp to the north-west of the lake.

48 NEWFOUNDLAND

Nearly all hunters have superstitions, and on September
15 I discovered that neither Bob nor Jack were above this
pardonable weakness.

" A' dreamed o' Mrs. Bury last night," said Jack solemnly
at breakfast-time.

" Then we're sure to kill a big stag to-day," echoed
Saunders, with conviction.

Questioned as to the connection between this estimable
lady (the wife of a storekeeper in Alexander Bay) and the
monarch of the woods, Saunders at once gave the requisite
explanation.

"Once de ole man Stroud had been hunting fer nigh a
fortnight and nar a stag had he seen, till one night he seen
Mrs. Bury, who's a lady o' persition down our bay, sitting
on the top of a big stag and smilin' at 'un. Next day Stroud
kills a great one. Again on the same trip one o' the packers,
Dan Burton to name, he dreams he's bin a-talkin' to Mrs.
Bury, and sure 'nough Stroud's party kills 'nother big stag.
There's some connection 'tween the deer and dat lady, fer
last year Johnny here sees her in his sleep, and next day
Mister Selous kills the finest head I ever seen. We don't
really think much on Mrs. Bury, but when she comes to us
we're mighty glad."

The sun was sending great fiery shafts of light across the
eastern sky and painting the emerald woods with crimson
and gold as we stepped out of the forest on this particular
morning. We thought ourselves out early, but a flock of
Canadian geese rose clamorously from an upland marsh,
and a pair of great northern divers were calling querulously
from the clouds, showing that others had been up awhile
before us. On a little lake up near the first spying place
some dusky ducks were paddling along the edge and turning

Saunders' Waterfall, Tlrra-Nova River

Where a Stag has Cleaned his Horns

CARIBOU HUNTING 49

upside down in the familiar fashion of our own mallards. It
was a glorious waking to life, and we sat for a while enjoying
the crisp morning air and wondering if the stags ever intended
to move.

"Think we'll take a walk round Island Pond to-day," said
Saunders, suggesting a new ground, and to this I at once
acquiesced, as my guide said that an old stag or two generally
"summered" there in the stunted and isolated belts of spruce,
often coming: to the lake shore in the evening;.

At noon we rested for our regular midday tea by a little
stream, where were many larches recently scraped by a
caribou stag.

" That feller's close about here somewhere," said Saunders,
and so he was, for soon after commencing our stealthy walk
round the isolated drokes, I suddenly looked to my left and
saw the broad back and snowy neck of the game we sought
for. We had surprised the deer within eighty yards, and he
was feeding unconcernedly, so I ought not to have hurried
as I did to take him " from the shoulder," as there was time
to get into an easy position in which I could have made a
certainty of the shot. Immediately the stag turned sideways
I fired, the bullet going too high over his back. The deer
at once galloped away from the cover a few yards and again
stood. This time I hit him on the horn, which frightened
him considerably and caused an instantaneous retreat to the
woods. As he galloped away I pulled again, without effect,
and yet again as he crossed a little sluit about a hundred and
fifty yards away.

"You have him," said Jack; "I saw the hair fly from
his side ; " but I did not think so, seeing that the stag had,
after the shot, galloped away easily, and then starting back
with raised head and tail and extended " scut," leapt in the

50 NEWFOUNDLAND

air and took a few long slinging steps to the rear. Then
he gave one wild comprehensive survey of the landscape,
kicked some stones into the air, and galloped away out of
sight as hard as his legs would carry him.

We now ran forward, and on rounding a belt of forest
saw my stag lying dead in the open. My last shot had
taken him right through the heart. The head was a very
ordinary specimen of that grown by the average Newfoundland
caribou.

During the walk home it was terribly hot, and Saunders,
having the head to carry, became thirsty, and most unwisely
drank some water out of a stagnant pool. When we got to
camp he complained of feeling ill, and could eat nothing.
Unfortunately, too, the brandy had been left down at the
boats on Lake St. John, so it was daybreak before Jack
started to fetch the only medicine we possessed. By the
evening Saunders was much better and ate some dinner,
and next morning expressed himself as quite recovered and
able to try the ground near the New Lake on which I had
fixed some hopes.

At the east end of this lake, which was a large sheet of
water some twenty-five miles round (and now named after
me), is a broad open marsh. This space connected two
great forests, and by all reasoning we assumed that many
of the deer that would eventually come from the northern
woods must cross this flat to reach the southern woods. It
was directly in the line of migration nearly south-west, and
so we decided to go down and examine the marsh, and, if
there should be a good show of "leads" passing across it,
to camp there for a week and let the deer come to us.

Jack came with us as usual now, for he was a sociable
fellow and hated being left in camp by himself ; and, as

CARIBOU HUNTING 51

apart from other considerations, he had sharp eyes, I liked
to have him with me.

A pleasant walk of five or six miles over the high ridge
and then down through the timber for another two miles
brought us to the eastern end of the New Lake. I did not
go on to the shore, but stopped behind examining a splendid
series of fresh caribou trails leading, as I had hoped they
would, right across the marsh and round the lake edge. It
was the very place to meet the deer, and I could put my
camp in a " droke " of spruce close to the water's edge as
long as the north wind, which had now started, continued
to hold.

I sat down to rest well satisfied with the outlook, when
Jack, who had gone to fill the kettle, suddenly came rushing
back to me to say that a stag and a doe were at that
moment swimming across the lake. Sure enough, there
they were far out in the centre of the lake, and making for
the southern shore about a mile to our left. There was no
time to be lost, as caribou swim fast, so we got off at once,
and fortunately found that the forest, which was new to us,
was not so dense as usual, and that we could progress at
a fair rate under cover. Looking over a high bank which
concealed the point for which the deer were making, I saw
the animals coming on fast about four hundred yards away,
and heading straight for our position. Here I took the
telescope from Saunders, who now expressed the opinion
that the stag was a small one ; and after bringing it to bear
on the horned one, I was forced to a similar conclusion.
The two deer now must have seen us, or changed their
minds as to a landing place, for they suddenly turned to a
right angle and gave me a good broadside view. The
appearance of the deer with horns now presented a some-

52 NEWFOUNDLAND

what different aspect ; it had upturned brow points like a
red deer, and a thin grey neck utterly unlike that of any
young stag.

" That's a doe," I said to Saunders, handing him the
glass to take a look.

"Yes," replied my companion, "an' with the biggest
horns I ever see in my life."

The two deer had now separated, the unhorned doe
coming straight on and landing within a few yards of us
before dashing into the forest, whilst the other one whose
head I now coveted had turned east again, and was making
for a gravel bank about half a mile on our back tracks.
The wind being perfect, I easily headed the deer, and gave
her a bullet immediately she landed on the shore. She
carried unusually large horns of twelve points, and was
evidently an old " yeld " doe.

As a rule caribou does have no horns to speak of, and
as it was of scientific interest to know what proportion of
females carried these cranial appendages, I kept a careful
list of all the deer seen by myself during the trip, and what
percentage of, in this case, the uglier sex, were so ornamented.

Number of female caribou seen, 306 ; made up of i with
twelve points, i with eight points, 6 with four points, 40 with
three points, (about) 120 with two points, 130 with no horns,
or with only small knobby excrescences.

On our way home we noticed little sign of stags travelling ;
but on going up out of the forest we ran right up against a
good beast, which I killed without any stalking, or in fact
any incident that is worth recording. He simply stood and
looked at me from about fifty yards, and I shot him from
the shoulder. He had a pretty but not a large head of
twenty-six points, and was evidently a young stag.

Caribou Swimming
{Frovi Plwlografhs fy Parsons)

CARIBOU HUNTING 53

On the night of September 17, Jack baked bread for
three days, as we had decided on a three days' tramp to
the east until the stags should show signs of moving past
the New Lake to the north, whence I hoped to go by-and-
by. As we left the wood close to our camp we came on
the fresh sign of a black bear not an hour old.

" Shouldn't wonder if that cuss cleans out our camp while
we're gone," murmured Saunders reflectively, as he examined
it ; then as wc tramped along the old man indulged in a
few reminiscences.

" A've know'd um do thet more'n once, and play funny
wid de whole outfit. There was an Indian named Stephen
lived down our bay a while back. He was just the best
trapper in Newfun'lan', an' he told me wance when I was
in, furrin' (trapping) wi' him, that one night he wakes up
sudden cos de fire had gone out, and across the glow he
sees a great black thing movin'.

" ' Who's dere ? ' he call out, seizin' his gun. De feller
don't answer. So he rips at 'un and finds he's killed a
large black bear what's eatin' out of he's sugar-can. Stephen
he kill more bears than any feller in Newfun'lan', and one
fall he come to me and Jack's father and sed he'd shot the
largest kind of a bear 'bout ten miles back, and sed too
we could get all de fat and meat if we'd come. So he
an' little Jack here, he warn't more than a child o' ten
then, starts off, and late that evening we come to the
carcase. I never seed such a bear as that, 9 feet long, if
he was an inch, and I've seen as many bear in Newfun'lan'
as any one but Stephen. We started for home next
morning, little Jack here carryin' a load that made his
nose bleed, but he wouldn't give up or say a word, the little
varmint."

54 NEWFOUNDLAND

Jack looked shy and utterly uninterested as the old man
continued.

"Stephen was married to the daughter of old Jim
Baxter, himself half an Indian, and a man that had spent
all his days reevin' through de woods, so o' course he
warn't o' much account. People was mighty civil to Stephe
as they was afraid of him, and thet's the way o' most. Yet
he was a merry cuss, singin' and laughin' all de time and
nothin' to scare a body till ye caught his eyes, and then folk
was apt to feel cold. He tried to knife one young chap fer
spillin' some coffee on his toes, an' he used to say straight
that if he found any white man trappin' bear or huntin' deer
too far from de Bay he'd shoot 'un dead. So most folk stop
at home.

" He'd a great name as a hunter, and whiles used to take
town's fellers to de woods, that is, them as didn't know 'un
and was fools enough to go with 'un. Course those days they
got nothin' cos Stephe 'ud tramp 'em all through de meshes
and scare every mother's son o' deer so long as de grub
lasted. One time he go out wi' a young 'un from St. John's,
named Molony, for a fortnight, and when they come back
that feller ain't seen so much as a deer's scut. So I ask
Stephe, who liked me somehow, how 'twas.

"'What, 7ne show Molony deer?' ses he sarcastic, 'while
there's sugar and coffee and bacon. Oh no, no, no, that
ain't Stephe." And the old man and Jack indulged in an
amused chuckle.

I was interested in this queer character, so in response
to my request for more " Stephe," Saunders continued.

" There was a loud blowin', bully in' feller that kept a
merchant store down Bonava' Bay, and made lots o' money
by cheatin' us poor folk. His name was Stanley, an' he

CARIBOU HUNTING 55

was powerful fond o' the gun. One fall he goes in wi'
Stephe, and after a week o' seein' nothin' but drokes and
meshes, he gets mad and cusses the Indian. Sed he'd lied
to 'un, and that he'd be off for home right there at once and
make things hot fer 'un. Stephe never sed a word at first,
but jus' looks at 'un wi' his cold eyes, then he darts off,
sayin' he'd show him deer for sure that day. They jus'
walked and walked and walked, and by-and-by Stephe tells
de feller to sit down and take a spell while he goes into
the timber to light a fire and boil kettle. Presently the man
from Bonava's Bay gets cold and hungry, and he goes to
find Stephe and de kittle ; but de Indian was far away by
that time, and he didn't ever see 'un again — least not for
some time."

"How did the man get out. Bob?"

"Well, if it hadn't bin that there was plenty blueberries
that fall, and he had a box of matches, he certainly wouldn't
a' seen Bonava's Bay agin, for he was clean lost. It took
'un three days 'fore he struck the Terra-Nova River, where
some loggers picked 'un up famished and 'most crazy.

" When Stanley got back to de salt water, first man he
met was Stephe, lookin' as sweet and pleasant as a day in
June.

" ' Ho, you damned rascal,' screamed the wanderer, ' I'm
goin' now to de magistrate to have you arrested, and you'll
be jailed sure fer two years.'

" ' Very well,' says Stephe, ' an' as soon as I come out
I shoot you dead very quick.' Stanley stood in the road
for some time thinking about it all, and then — he walks
home. Dey was all afraid to do anything to Stephe, but
he didn't get many hunting parties after that trip."

I thought he had finished, but seeing my interest in the

56 NEWFOUNDLAND

character of this wild creature, he volunteered yet another
excellent tale.

" Ever hear that old Newfun'lan' yarn o' Stephe and the
two 'sports'? No? Well, ye know you can't lose an Indian
even supposin' ye put him down blin'fold in the centre o'
the island and tell him to make fer St. John's, and what's
more, they don't like to be told they may be going faulty
or there's apt to be trouble. We'll, one fall, after he'd nearly
killed de Bonava' man, Stephe takes in two townies to hunt.
Disremember their names, but we'll call 'em Johnny and
George. Johnny stays in camp one day, and Stephe goes
off wi' George fer to find a deer. They reeves around all
day now in de woods, now on de meshes, till by nightfall
George gets uncomfortable and doesn't know where he is,
and is precious sure the Indian don't know either, cos our
woods is tough, as you know. By-and-by Stephe sits down
to light a fire.

"'Guess we're lost,' ses George.

"'Oh no,' says Stephe, lookin' up, kind o' sour. 'Indian
not lost, Indian never lost; Camp and Johnny lost.'"

"That's good, Bob! Where's Stephe now?" I said.

" Dead. Dead six winters ago. De woods and — er —
other things done fer him, as it does fer all of us in time.
He was haulin' a deer 'long de ice o' George's Pond when
he slip up and cracked his skull. He got home to de Bay,
but died a few weeks after. A' seen 'un just 'fore he goes,
an' he say to me, ' Saunders, whisky's bad fer haulin' deer.' "

CHAPTER III

BEGINNING OF THE MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE

" What's this French shore question," I said to Bob one
evening.

" There ain't no French shore question — least not in New-
fun'lan'," said Little Bob, with a certain tinge of sarcasm.
" We heard tell that in your papers they're alius talkin'
about the French shore, and what right the Frenchies have
thar'. But, sure 'nough, didn't these Frenchies make them
villages, and work the land after the Government let them
settle there. Yes, right enough. Well, those Frenchies hev
been settled there that long, I guess neither English nor
French Government's goin' to turn 'em out, and what's morei
no Newfun'lan'er grudges them their luck, though they hev
got the only bit of coast that isn't worked out and fished
to death." ^

" How's that, Saunders ? "

" Lobsters, jest lobsters. They fishes lobsters, and makes
a good thing of it, though they are growing a bit scarce
now. Up there along the French shore the youngsters is
born web-footed, and the old folk watch the ebb-tide. Yet
it takes more brains to catch an old gran'pa lobster than
a cod, one of those old fellows with seaweed on his back
and a pair of nippers that could bite yer head off. He's
brains, I tell you, and it needs brainy men like those

' Since this was written, the French shore question has been settled by the
payment of a large sum on the part of the English Government. All the French
settlers have now left.

58 NEWFOUNDLAND

Frenchies to catch them. One summer I went lobster
catchin' along by de Grey Islands, and we done pretty poor
till the spearin' came on."

"How do you spear lobsters?" I remarked, for this
method of taking the crustacean was new to me.

" Well, 'long 'bout the month of August the lobsters cast
their shells, and is sort o' soft and fleshy 'bout the back so's
ye can drive a spear into 'un. We used to go out early in
the day 'long the coast, to where there was caves with the
sea washin' up into them. Round about the mouth of these
caves we'd cast half a boatload of cod's insides or rotten
herrings, always being careful to heave the bait where we
cud see clean bottom. Then we lay by fer half-an-hour,
an' the fun 'ud begin soon as the tide was sufficient ebb to
reach bottom with our long spears. Great sport it was, too,
and none too easy stickin' them lobsters as they grabbed
the pieces of fish and made off. I liked that kind of fishing
fine, and made a good pack of money at it too, fer we'd get
as many as fifty to a hundred in a morning sometimes.
Anyhow, those Frenchies is all right if you leave 'em alone,
an' I know that if they was Newfun'lan' Englishmen they
wouldn't turn out after they made the place too."

During the next few days " we reeved aroun' considerable "
(as Saunders graphically expressed it), seeing a fair number
of does and two big stags, both of which showed up in the
timber for a minute, and disappeared as soon as I ran to
head them. As there was now every sign that the larger
deer had commenced to travel, I moved the camp ten miles
over the two ridges, and descended into the valley by Millais's
Lake, where I had settled to watch the open barrens at the
east end.

I have already stated this barren forms a connecting

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 59

link between the northern and southern forest, and as it
lies immediately in the centre of the main deer leads of the
southern herd, I felt sure that I should soon be rewarded
by the sight of more good stags than we had encountered
during the first four weeks of spying and timber tramping.
There is no doubt that if you want to get really good heads
in Newfoundland, the only way is to sit still when the deer
are on the move. This is, of course, not the highest class
of sport, but it is interesting for a few days, and during the
week that we spent by the lake I thoroughly enjoyed my
stay, and saw more caribou than previously.

We waited all the 20th and 21st without seeing anything
worth shooting, and on the 22nd, after spying the barren
from daybreak till nine o'clock, I got a fit of restlessness, and
so determined to take a walk on high ground towards the
Gander. To reach this high ground it was first necessary
to cross the little river flowing at the north-east corner, and
then, after an uphill mile of dense woods, it was all plain
sailing. We tried to cross the river near the lake, and
found this impossible, afterwards holding right across the
open barren to effect a passage higher up. This was an
unfortunate manoeuvre, and one that almost cost us a fine
stag as subsequent events proved. One should not walk
about on the ground where deer are expected to cross.
Half a mile up the country the river was still impossible,
and, so as not to waste further time, I decided to go up
and work the ridge to the south-east. As we crossed the
barren I kept looking round (a habit one gets into when
expecting game to appear from any quarter) ; and suddenly
saw three does come out of the north woods, dash across
the river, and begin to traverse the open marsh. We had
hardly got out of sight when three more came suddenly into

60 NEWFOUNDLAND

view behind us, and all six presently worked on to the main
lead straight up the southern woods and disappeared. This
episode caused a few minutes' delay, then once more we rose
and resumed our journey ; but on giving a final glance back at
the now distant river, I saw something moving on the edge
of the north woods, close to the water. This brownish-
grey thing resolved itself into a doe when the glass was
fixed upon it, but there was something else in the field of
my telescope. It was at first a shadowy grey spot, which,
as I kept the glass upon it, grew lighter and lighter as it
neared the edge of the woods, and eventually became white
as a patch of snow.

"A stag, and a big one too," said Saunders and Jack
simultaneously.

The grand old fellow came out of the forest with slow
and dignified steps. He stood a moment haughtily sur-
veying the open prospect before him, the sun shining on
his splendid horns. Without hesitation he took the river,
and, landing on the near bank, proceeded to shake a halo
of sparkling water from his hide. Then off he set to cross
the marsh, so I deemed it time to be going to meet him.

A sharp run of four or five hundred yards took us to
"The Island," as we had christened a small clump of larch
and spruce in the middle of the barren. Here I left my
companions, and proceeded alone to crawl out on to the
marsh towards a certain stone, within easy shot of the lead
I felt sure the stag would traverse. Raising myself slightly,
I had the satisfaction of seeing the pair coming quickly
along. The doe well in front, looking uneasily from side
to side, the stag following with steady footfall, but apparently
indifferent to danger. They were all right, that was certain,
because the wind was blowing straight from them to myself.

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 61

and they must pass broadside on within a hundred yards.
With the quiet satisfaction of a man who has got what is
vulgarly called a "soft thing," I was just arranging a nice
clump of moss under my left arm when there was a sharp
whistle from "The Island," and I knew at once that something
had gone wrong.

Rising up, there were the two caribou racing away back
to the river at full gallop. There was nothing left but to
sit down and try the stag before he should be completely
out of shot. The third bullet struck him on the left horn
and materially added to his fears, whilst the fourth just passed
his shoulder as he swung slightly to one side. Seeing that
he was about to turn quite broadside I kept the last cartridge
in the magazine for such a contingency, and to my relief
he not only did so, but slowed down to a walk as if about
to stop.

The stag was now a good 300 yards away, but having a
good position and a fine light I pressed the trigger slowly,
feeling the shot was a gfood one. A loud crack and an
instantaneous start on the part of the deer showed that
the bullet had struck him. Nevertheless he went off again at
full gallop, falling twice into bogs, from which he extricated
himself with wonderful strength and skill, and then, with a
final effort, he made at full speed for the river, tripped
over a low bank, turned a complete somersault, and fell
dead.

It was a moment of great exultation such as every hunter
experiences after making a long shot that is successful.
Saunders had seen the stag fall, and rushed out of " The
Island " waving his hat and shouting with glee. Our quarry
was a fine stag with a good Roman nose, such as only old
stags (of all species) possess ; but his horns were completely

62 NEWFOUNDLAND

buried in the moss, so we had to dig them out for fear of a
breakage. Jack set to work, and soon unearthed to view the
antlers of a typical caribou, not an extraordinary one, but a
fine well-developed head of thirty points, with good strong
brows and bays. The horns were rather longer than the
average, and the whole what Saunders described as a fine
head. We sat long discussing the incidents of the capture,
photographing, and skinning the head and neck whilst Jack
appropriated the thick rolls of fat lying across the buttocks.
This deer was the fattest I have ever seen when skinning
any specimen of the cervidce ; a good three inches of fat lay all
over the thighs, and there was also a thick layer all over the
lower parts.

Next day, 23rd September, the equinoctial gales com-
menced from the west, and the wind increased till the 25th,
when it blew almost a hurricane. It was my custom to rise
at daybreak, the men getting up half-an-hour earlier to make
the fire and boil the kettle for our morning meal. On the
morning of the 24th, and when Saunders and Jack had
finished their breakfast, they went out to spy the marsh
from an open about 30 yards from the camp while I sat and
sipped my tea. My boots lay at some distance, and I was
just feeling pretty comfortable, thinking how much more
delightful camp was than crouching under the lee of a wet
bush, for it was still "blowing smoke," when Jack rushed in
to say that a great stag had just crossed the river, and was
even now traversing the marsh. There was no time to do
more than pull on my boots and to fiy out on the barren,
up across the wind so as to head the beast, for I knew he
would make for one of two passes.

" A shocking set o' harns," said Saunders, taking the
glass from his eye as I dashed by him, but I did not do

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 63

more than glance at the beast, which was walking quickly
along in the grey dawn. In a few minutes Jack and I had
reached the edge of the hill forest up into which the stag
would presently pass, when to my extreme disgust the gale
came rushing in a mighty wave over the trees and driving
our wind straight towards the now rapidly approaching animal.
There was not a moment in which to make a fresh disposi-
tion. It was one of those occasions when action decisive and
immediate was imperative ; consequently I ran with all my
might to come within view of the main lead up the hill, so
that even if the stag bolted I should at any rate get a running
shot. But this was not to be, and I lost the finest horned
stag I had till then ever seen. As I ran along the wood edge,
and was still about 250 yards from him, I suddenly saw him
throw up his mighty antlered head and spring into the air,
as a caribou stag generally does when he gets the wind. A
frightened deer will usually halt a moment or two and give
you time for a shot, but this fellow seemed to know some-
thing about men, and at once made off down wind as hard
as his legs could carry him. He was in the worst kind of
hummocky ground, and I fired three hopeless shots at his
retreating form before he jerked round the edge of the
forest arm, and disappeared for ever. Then I went home
miserable.

On the way back I met Saunders, who, with the kindest
intentions, endeavoured to cheer me by saying that this stag
carried the finest horns he had ever seen in his life. He,
moreover, asked permission to take my rifle and follow the
stag as he felt sure I had hit him. I was equally certain that
I had not touched the beast, and should indeed have been
surprised if I had ; but Saunders, who cherished an altogether
unwarrantable view of my shooting powers, considered it

64 NEWFOUNDLAND

impossible that I had missed him, and so begged for leave
to take up the spoor.

" I can take some tea and go two days, and then I will
come up wi' him, if he don't go hard ground," said the old
fellow.

" But what about stags in the meantime, Bob," I sug-
gested, as we had only one rifle. This proved unanswerable,
so we returned to camp to wait for another monarch of the
woods.

During the day several deer passed the marsh, but it was
not till the evening that the sight of another snowy neck
and waving horns of a stag coming along the lake side
changed the tenour of our thoughts. It was growing dusk,
so I could not see the antlers very well, particularly as he
kept close along a belt of trees that fringed the marsh. I
ran and took up " the position favourable," as Monsieur
Alphonse would say. With the stag was a doe who carried
large horns with eight points, an unusual number. She
came along in front of her lord and master, looking sus-
piciously from side to side as she took each step. I thought
she would see me as I lay out on the bare moss not loo
yards away, but she went by quietly, and as the stag oame
on I gave him a shot that looked like a settler. He did
not fall, however, but stood again at 200 yards, so I fired
again and dropped him quite dead ; the bullet piercing the
kidneys, an instantly fatal shot.

He had nice brows, and was a fair beast, but not such a
head as I would have shot had the light been sufficiently
good to properly distinguish the animal. But one has to
take one's chance sometimes. The first royal I ever shot
in Scotland was killed at 200 yards in a failing light, when
I could not do more than see he was a large beast.

off^yz-'s-

Kj,fk;K.:-

YELLOWSHAN'KS

;ii%3P--:.

)..,)i.i

What vou can do if there is a Big Stoxe to hide behind
AND THE Wind is Favourable

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 65

It was rough at night, and snowing a little, so after
dinner, when pipes were glowing, the conversation naturally
turned on winter hunting and adventures in the snow. The ^
men told me of rough times they had experienced when
they went in to get the winter meat.

"A' mind a time," said Saunders, "when a' was 'most
crazy. 'Twas once when ole man Stroud, the two Arnolds,
and young Baxter come in wi' me to hunt our winter meat,
and young Baxter Stroud, a boy o' seventeen, he got lost
in de snow. Ole man Stroud sends Baxter out wi' me, and
tell me to be perticler careful wi' 'un cos he ain't no good
at findin' way, but I never think he'd stray the way he
done. Third day out a' sees three deer, and goes fer 'em.
They moved over a ridge, so I ran on, cut 'un off, and
after puttin' three guns at 'em, kills one, and paunches 'un.
By-and-by a' goes to look fer Baxter, but he ain't whar
a'd left 'un, so I specs he'd gone to camp. When a'
come in the ole man Stroud says kind o' sharp, ' Where's
Baxter?' and a' looks round and sees he ain't thar. A'
feels kind o' sick fer a minute, fer it's now snowing hard,
and cold fit to freeze a body to death, but a' couldn't say
a word even when de ole man say he won't see his boy
again. We all starts off by-and-by to look fer tracks o'
Baxter, fer the snow had stopped, and the moon had
come out. Stroud he wants to go to the place where
a' had left the boy, but a' knew well enough tracks was
all covered by this time, and that Baxter would make fer
the old camp which we'd left in de morning. 'Bout day-
break we come to a place where our ponies had broke
through de ice morning before, and as we stops to look
we hear a faint call from a droke o' spruce close by
— a' runs up, and there lies Baxter 'most froze. We lights

66 NEWFOUNDLAND

a big fire, and brings him round, but we was only just in
time."

"Tell Mr. Millais o' that time you had after ole Noah,"
here interposed Jack. To this Saunders immediately raised
objections, and it was only after more leading questions,
and many pauses, that the old man told his tale. His re-
luctance was, of course, because it involved no little credit
to himself. But at last we got him fairly under weigh.

" Noah Dimot is an ole feller 'bout seventy years. He's
alius lived down our Bay 's far as a' can remember, and
whenever he go into de woods he got lost. Thar's some
folk, d'ye know, can't fin' thar way around even if thar was
finger-posts all de time, and ole Noah 'e was alius that
kind. His folk shouldn't 'a' allowed him round without a
string. He was terrible fond o' the gun, and thet v/as
how we had the greatest hunt I ever knew. Ole Noah 'e
gone out one winter towards a lake, four or five miles from
de Bay, to look for rabbits. Some men at a lumber
camp, 'bout three mile out, see 'un going out. Next evenin'
one of those men's sittin' by de fire smokin', like to we,
asks if any of 'em seen Noah goin' home, fer he'd pro-
mised to leave a rabbit. No, none of 'em had seen um,
so they look in each other's faces, and that night one o'
them comes down to the Bay to see if Noah's home. O'
course, Noah had got lost as usual, and de whole o' de
men in the Bay were out that night lookin' for Noah wi'
birch bark torches.

" It was lucky there was no fresh snow, for if there had
been, that would hev bin the end o' Noah Dimot. Early
in the morning a' finds Noah's track, and follows it all the
next day. There was three other men wi' me, and Noah's
son, Sandy. We'd never a bite to eat, and snow was

>?^ ■i:yjf/e-j -}*<?•=--' //•/■/■ //// A f:>'>uy^^ , y?^y/ '.

Vy..

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 67

threatening, though it didn't come, and a' hed to haul off
to send two o' the men back for some grub. Then when
the men come they was dead beat, so a' went on all
through de night wi' Sandy. 'Twas most surprisin' the dis-
tance that ole man travelled — the further he went each day,
the faster he goes towards evenin'. Sometimes we found
where he'd made great springs like a scared rabbit, and a'
see by-and-by a' warn't followin' no sensible man, but
one just crazy wi' fear. It was curious to see how he'd
crossed three lumber roads an' took no notice: he'd gone
just straight ahead and reeved through the thickest places.
Towards morning a' see we's goin' to have weather. Soon
there comes a slight ruffle o' snow, and a' thought 'twas all
up, for a' would hardly see trail. When daylight came a'
was tired, and Sandy, though younger than me, says he
can't go no further, or we'd be dead too, as we got no
more grub ; but just then a' finds where ole man had lay
down and slept, and he ain't got up and gone on more'n
an hour. So a' says to Sandy to cheer up, fer de ole man
must be 'bout wore out, and must drop soon.

" 'T warn't long before we come to the edge o' the
forest, an' lookin' across de mesh a' seen de old man Noah
walkin' along slowly, slowly, an' usin' a long pole fer a
walkin' stick. Down our Bay, sir, we've got a picter of
an old Yankee feller called Rip van Winkle, an' when a'
looks up and seen de ole man Noah, wi' bent back and
snow-white hair and beard, dodderin' 'long, and resting on
his long stick, wi' his clothes all tore to rags, a' thinks it's
just old Rip came to Newfun'lan'. When we come up to
'un, we seen he ain't got no hat, and his clothes was most
tore to rags, and a' tell you he looked wild. 'E didn't
know his son Sandy at all, but when a'd give 'im a sup o'

68 NEWFOUNDLAND

brandy, and told 'im a' was Saunders, 'e knowed me at
once, and said quite merry, ' All right now, boys, a' ain't
got lost ; see de ole woman again, boys.'

"A' needn't tell you de trouble we had to get back, as
we'd no grub but only brandy ; but a' made a great fire,
and was just startin' by myself for a lumber camp some
twenty miles back, when the boys, who'd trailed us, came
up, an' we got de ole man back to the Bay after takin' a
good spell. Ole Noah was sixty-seven when 'e got lost
like that, an' 'e was four days and four nights without food
or fire, so don't tell me some old 'uns ain't tough, for there
most young 'uns would a' gone under. Ole Noah 'e's seventy-
three now, but 'e don't do no more rabbit 'untin'."

It was blowing a full gale all the 25th, but I decided
to stop one more day, in the hope of seeing something out
of the ordinary. In this I was not disappointed, for though
I did not kill an extraordinary head this trip, I got that
evening a stag with first-rate antlers, and quite the best I
obtained. His capture was almost too easy, for the wind
was perfect, and he was just " soakin' " along, smelling where
some deer had passed, and not caring for anything in the
world. I had been spying and watching all day, and had
just gone a few steps to the camp to get a warm up, when
a whistle from Jack recalled me.

" There's a great feller just come out on that little barren
between the two 'drokes,'" said Jack, pointing to an open
space about a mile away. " He's heading for the main woods,
and I know his head's big, for I put the glass on it."

With this assurance I at once " made tracks," and in
ten minutes was creeping over a stony knoll to see if the
stag was still heading for the same road. For a few

L'Allegro
The beginning of the pack

IL Penseroso
The end of the pack

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 69

minutes I could see nothing, but on raising myself I saw his
broad chocolate-coloured back about loo yards off. He
was coming along all right. I lay perfectly still, and allowed
him to come mooning along to within ten yards, for I was
curious to see how near he would approach. At this dis-
tance I could see his big nose, twitching as it scented the
spoor of enticing females, and I was so near that I could
see his eye " catch " mine as I peeked at him from behind
the stone. In an instant his head flew up, and so did my
arms with the rifle. I pulled the trigger almost before the
weapon touched my shoulder, and immediately the great
beast was kicking on his back with a bullet through the
neck.

"Ye didn't need no bullet for that 'un. Ye cud a' cut
'un down wid de axe," said a voice behind me. It certainly
shows how easily a stag may be obtained sometimes.

The head was a large one, with unusually fine double
shovels in front and big bays, with many points. I do not
think points are of the greatest importance in a good caribou
head, and few would agree how many points this deer carried.
Newfoundlanders count every knob and excrescence, but,
following the old Scotch powder-horn test, which I think a
very fair one, it had thirty-five tines. This was much the
best head I secured, but not the largest. The deer was an
old stag, evidently going back, for the tops were poor and
almost pointless.

Having now obtained all the heads we could carry, I
decided to leave next day for our standing camp above St.
John's Lake, and, in a weak moment, said I could carry
the three caribou heads we had just killed, so as to save
the men an extra journey. Saunders and Wells each toted
about 80 lbs., whilst my load went about 60 lbs., and never

70 NEWFOUNDLAND

in my life was I so glad to get rid of anything as that
burden when at last we reached our main camp. Skulls
and horns are awkward things to carry, even when you
are accustomed to packing, but, to an amateur in the
business like myself, they seemed at times almost unendur-
able. Yet, after a good dinner and a smoke, I carried them
on through the timber for another two miles to St. John's
Lake, where our canoes were, and paid for it with a sleep-
less night.

Our journey up the Terra-Nova and through the two
lakes had been comparatively easy and swift, owing to the
beautiful weather and absence of wind. Now, however, we
were to experience cold and to face half a gale. We started
early on the 27th to pass the St. John's Lake, where, by
the way, I saw a beautiful caribou stag moving along the
western shore ; but, ere reaching the farther end, it began
to blow, and knocked up such a jabble that we were nearly
swamped ; one wave nearly filled us, and Saunders and I
had to paddle with all our might to reach the shallows in
safety. Then we had to unload everything to get the water
out, and had hardly started again when another wave came
over the side of the little boat. After another bale out, we
had to advance with the greatest caution, and then could only
make slow progress against the increasing wind. Saunders
thought at one time we should have to camp for the day,
but by steady paddling we managed to keep on till the
last headland of the lake was passed, and the river which
joins the lake with Mollygojack came into view. There I went
ashore, and walked for a few miles till the men caught me
up in the canoes. It was easy water between the two lakes,
and we had only to unload twice in passing "rattles," as
they called the strong rapids, so we made good progress,

//'

He Surveys vou with a Look of Intense Disapproval

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 71

and by the afternoon reached the point on the Mollygojack
where we had camped coming up.

Saunders was anxious to stop at this point, as he wanted
to show me, if possible, the track of an extraordinary caribou
stag that haunted this place for several seasons. Dan Burton,
Stroud, Saunders, Wells, and Mr. Selous had all seen the
track of this wonderful stag, and it was unanimously agreed
that nothing like it had ever been seen before by any of
them. The spoor was said to be almost as large as that of
a moose, so naturally I was most anxious to see it-

When we arrived at the point, the low state of the lake
prevented the heavily-laden canoe from getting near the
shore, so Saunders, who wore seal-boots, kindly offered to
carry me on his back. It was a well-meant offer, but entirely
disastrous. Saunders was a little man and I somewhat large,
whilst the bottom of the lake was of slippery mud. The
shifting of weight from the boat to the biped also caused
a loss of balance, so over the old man's head I dived into
three feet of water and two of mud. It was comical but cold,
and when Saunders had skilfully retrieved me by the seat
of the trousers, we all three sat on the shore and had a
good laugh whilst I changed into dry clothes.

Almost at once we found the track of the great stag ;
he had been here not many hours before, as his numerous
footprints plainly showed. I certainly never believed a
caribou could have made such a track, and went at once
for my camera to take a picture. The measurement across
the hoof prints was 7f inches, just the span of my out-
stretched hand. The fellow who made this spoor must
indeed have been a Goliath amongst his species, and I
regretted that I had to hurry on to Canada, where Indian
guides were waiting, or I should certainly have spent a week

72 NEWFOUNDLAND

in this place in the hope of seeing the "muckle hart." That
night we slept at the end of Mollygojack, and next day the
troubles of the men commenced in earnest.

I will not enter into details of all the rough work which
my guides had to undergo during the next four days. In
1 90 1 the river had been lower than it had been known
previously, and its passage difficult, but in 1902 it was 50
per cent, worse. The river bed was nearly dry save for
a rough and stony channel, down which it was impossible
to " run " the canoes for fear of staving them in. What
was a " rattle " when we came up was now nothing but a
series of jagged points of stone with a swift stream running
between them. When such were encountered, it was a case
of unloading the whole of the stuff, carrying the canoes for
a hundred yards, packing the goods and repacking them
again. This had to be repeated at intervals dozens of
times each day, and the work was extremely arduous and
trying to the temper, but not once did I hear my men
swear or show themselves put out. I know I was dog-
tired myself each night, for, though I did not go into the
water as they did, I assisted to the best of my ability in
all the " portages," and that was pretty heavy work in itself.

But everything comes to an end in time, and we at last
arrived at the easy water near Penson's Brook, and our
troubles came to an end. Here I saw some nice trout rising,
and, getting out my rod, I took fourteen trout, char, and
ouananiche (land-locked salmon), the latter being still in good
condition and delicious eating.

Next day, after a night of pouring rain, we passed the
Terra-Nova Lake after a hard paddle against a head wind,
and on a fine evening saw the end of our journey in the
shape of the Terra-Nova Station and the trestle bridge.

MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 73

A small figure was standing on the shore throwing stones
into the river, and shouting various nondescript calls as we
approached, and I presently saw it was our friend Mike
amusing his lonely little self in the only way that was
possible.

After our first greetings, he said, " What you bin gone
so long for ? There's a pile o' telegraphin' 'bout you.
They think you're lost down in St. John's. But I see
you got a heap o' deer."

"Where's Jack and Tom?" I said, running my eye over
the menagerie which frolicked around the little man.

"A 'sport' went and shot 'em while you was gone," said
Mike, turning away.

"The beast!" was Jack's remark, which entirely echoed
our feelings.

Thus ends one of the pleasantest short journeys I have
undertaken — thirty-six days of the best of sport, and the very
best of companions. I had enjoyed myself immensely, and
returned refreshed in mind and body.

All of us who are big-game hunters go to a new country
hoping to find animals abundant and good heads occasional,
and in Newfoundland I had encountered these conditions to
the full.

After paying off my two guides, we sat round the camp
fire at night waiting for the accommodation train to arrive.
We did not talk much, but I know Saunders was thinking
deeply, and wanted to say something nice. At last the old
chap began, and we all three felt uncomfortable.

" D'you know, sir, that Providence is mighty good to us,
whiles. Two years ago in the fall, I was 'bout on the rocks,
and not knowing where to turn for a few dollars which I
wanted particular. Just then I thought I'd struck a lucky.

74 NEWFOUNDLAND

for Mr. Watson, in St. John's, who's bin a good fren' to
me, gets me to go hunt wid an American who's coming
from Port-an-basque, fer de American tells me where to
meet him. When a' gets to Port-an-basque, a' waits three
days, but de American 'e don't come. A' feels mighty sick
at that time a' can tell you, but just when a'm wondering
how I can get back to de Bay, a' meets a Bonava's man a'
knows, and he says he'll frank me's far's Howley, where a'
can shoot two deer, and that'll pay to take us home. Well,
we goes to Howley, and first day a' shoot a big stag wi'
a forty-pint head, which a' sells to a doctor of St. John's fer
fifteen dollars. Then a' felt kind o' better. Same day a' meets
Mr. Selous, and he ask me to come up de country wi' him and
Stroud. Well, a' wasn't missin' de American particular by then.
We has a rough time trampin' the meshes in November, and
is too late fer de deer what's gone by, but Mr. Selous he
like me, and a' like him, so he ask me to go in wi' him
last fall. That was good fer me, for though a' felt sick that
American didn't come, now a'm glad he didn't, for a' know
there's suthin better comin' my way. And now Mr. Selous
has sent me you." And the old man got up silently and
shook me by the hand.

It had been a mighty effort to put things quite in the
way he wished, but I doubt if any born courtier could have
expressed himself more delicately or with nicer feeling.

Jack. Steering his Canoe down a Shallow

Results of the First Trip

CHAPTER IV

EXPEDITION INTO NEW GROUND UP THE GANDER RIVER

" Dere's lots o' things in this world wot seems to strike us
rough at the time, but which turns out the best in the end,"
was a frequent remark of my philosophical friend Little
Bob ; and with this he addressed me as I met him at the
commencement of my second expedition, looking like a
scared fox in the mundane wilds of Water Street. Towns
were not to the liking of this man o' the woods, and we
were discussing the disappointing fact that the steamer for
North Labrador had departed on the previous day and
would not be back for another month. It was disgusting,
to say the least of it, as I had made my preparations care-
fully before leaving England, and meant if possible to add
the barren-land caribou, of the north-eastern corner of
America, to my collection of hunting trophies.

The loss of a month in the autumn means nothing in
some countries, but in North Labrador winter closes down
with a sudden snap about the beginning of October, and
there you must remain with the Esquimaux till the next
summer, if the last boat from the south fails to reach
Nain and the north ports. As I had also hoped to hunt
again in Newfoundland in the second season, it was clearly
the best plan to make one good expedition in that delight-
ful country, rather than to try and effect under pressure
two shooting trips in the two countries both so wide
apart.

76 NEWFOUNDLAND

Accordingly Bob Saunders and I retired to my lodgings,
and flattened our noses on the map of Newfoundland.

Experienced hunters always say, " The first trip you go
to a new country is for experience, the second you get what
you want." This is very true, especially if the hunter him-
self is able to make deductions, if he does not mind travelling,
and has, like the headmaster, the power of picking capable
assistants. In the previous year I had learned something
about the general habits of the woodland caribou, and became
more and more convinced that during the month of September
the big stags keep to themselves in various " putting up "
spots situated near the unvisited lakes and rivers of central
Newfoundland. When the railway was first made and opened,
numbers of splendid stags came out of the north every
September, and crossed the line between Bay of Islands and
Howley on their autumnal migration. Nowadays, although
almost as many deer come, they are chiefly does, so that
men, who during these years of plenty were accustomed to
go about and shoot these old stags like sheep in a pen,
now grumble and say that the patriarchs are shot out. But
this is not the case. The animals are not such fools as
themselves. They have learnt by hard experience, and have
protected themselves by hiding in peace and security in the
untrodden forests of the interior, and only migrating in the
late fall to the south coast barrens. There I believe they
will continue to flourish for centuries to come unless another
railway is made, which is not likely to occur.

The natural conditions, too, of the great sanctuary will in
themselves keep this extent of country inviolate, for, in the
first place, after the lower reaches of the rivers are passed,
there is no timber worth cutting and likely to tempt the
cupidity of man. Nor is it possible to reach the interior

'rj-^A^

Sandv Ul:tt and Foktv-mne Point Head

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 77

except with expensive light-draught canoes, and these must
be handled by experienced watermen who are not easily
discouraged. The average Newfoundland guide likes to do
things comfortably, both for himself and the sportsman who
employs him, so he is quite content to take his man, or party,
and sit about the leads of Howley, Goose Brook, the Gaff
Topsails, or Patrick's Marsh. This involves no labour or
fatigue, and so abundant are caribou, that three stags apiece
may be killed at these places still. But rarely is a good
head obtained in this manner. To shoot good heads the
hunter must see many, and he can only do so by going far
afield.

These at any rate were the conclusions we came to after
carefully surveying the map of Newfoundland. Two rivers
seemed to pierce to the very heart of the country, the Bay
d'Est and the main branch of the Gander, the longest river in
Newfoundland, whose source I afterwards discovered beyond
the Partridgeberry Hills, about a hundred miles from the sea.
We resolved therefore to adopt this last route, and to travel as
far as we could haul the canoes.

The first thing to be done was to obtain, if possible,
some information about the Gander, or the " Nor'- West "
Gander as it is more generally called, and for this purpose
I went to Mr. W. D. Reid, who on this and subsequent
occasions kindly gave me every assistance in his power. It
appeared that fifteen miles up the river was a lumber camp
worked by the Newfoundland Timber Estates. This industry
has mills at Glenwood, on the Newfoundland Railway, and
its steamers ply the lake and haul the logs from both the
rivers which flow into its waters. Mr. Crowe, the manager
of this company, said that practically nothing was known of
the main Gander, and that no one had been farther than

78 NEWFOUNDLAND

twenty miles up the stream, for at this distance the workable
timber ceased. As to the navigability of the river, neither
he nor any one else knew anything, but it was thought that
"steady" water existed for thirty-five miles to a point where
there was a waterfall. Beyond this nothing was known, but
as James Howley,^ the geographer, with his two Indians,
had reached a point over seventy miles up this river some
time in the seventies, I hoped to be able to do the same,
and, if the water held good to the Partridgeberry Hills, to
portage across to Dog Lake and river system, and work
south to Hermitage Bay on the south coast.

I stayed a week in St. John's with my friend Mr,
Hesketh Prichard, who was bound for the Labrador.
Waiting to start on an expedition is always tiresome, but
our delay on this occasion was made pleasant through the
acquaintance of Judge Prowse and other friends. The
Judge is certainly one of the most interesting characters in the
island, for he was born and educated there, and understands
the people of his country as no other man does. He is a
man of over seventy, but his vitality and energy are that of
a schoolboy. He talked all the time, and I listened, which
just suited us both, for one was never tired of listening to
characteristic stories of the men of the sea and the woods ;
and he can tell his stories with a due appreciation of the
humour and pathos of human life.

The life of a judge in Newfoundland, until he reaches the
highest rank, is not one to be envied. He has both to try
the case and get up evidence for the prosecution as the

' Mr. Howley, in a letter to Mr. Blair, said : " I should not recommend Mr.
Millais trying this route. It is too difficult for canoe navigation owing to the
scarcity of water in the Gander during the summer season. We were obliged to
abandon our own canoes some twenty miles above the Gander Lake after nearly
tearing them to pieces, and to proceed on foot the remainder of the journey."

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 79

procurator-fiscal has to do in Scotland. This involves many
long and tedious journeys, often performed in the depth of
winter to outlying camps and villages, where evidence is
often well-nigh impossible to procure. This severe physical
strain year after year had hardly left its mark on the genial
old gendeman, who, though he has now retired, is as active
as ever.

I think the reader would have laughed had he seen this
Judge of the Supreme Court and myself hunting for the
problematical snipe in the wood and marshes one October
morning. The Judge, with his hat on the back of his head
and a pair of bedroom slippers on his feet ("Ye get wet
anyhow, my boy "), jumped over the streams and fences like
a two-year-old, working a somewhat wild pointer, and so,
whistling and prancing from marsh to marsh, he covered the
country in a manner that quite astonished me. Nor shall I
forget his charming disregard for appearances, so character-
istic of the true sportsman, when he kindly came to see me
off by the crowded Sunday train, bearing in one hand a
bucket full of potatoes and in the other — whisper it not in
the Fly-Fisher's Club, breathe it not in the gun-rooms in
the north — a big bag of worms.

The Judge has told me many excellent stories which I hope
he will some day himself give to the world, for his literary
abilities are well known on both sides of the Atlantic, his
History of Newfoundland being the standard work on the
subject. He is just as fond of telling a good story against
himself as in his favour. I must venture to narrate one little
tale about him, which comes from his own pen, and which
was common talk in the up-country camps of the interior.

" The inception of the railway in Newfoundland met with

80 NEWFOUNDLAND

great opposition. The merchants were specially hostile to
the new departure ; one old business man used to stand on
the head of his wharf, and tell the people how ' a tall gate '
(tollgate) would be placed at the western entrance to St.
John's ; every one with a horse and cart would have to pay
28. 6d., and whenever the surveyor's tape was passed over
their land it was gone from them for ever. In consequence
of these stories the people were stirred into a state of frenzy
and madness. When the railway surveyors began their work
at Topsail, at least five hundred insane men and women
followed them about constantly insulting and threatening
them. I was sent out with a small body of police to talk
to the people, and explain all about the railway. For days
and days I sat on the hillside, and told them all about the
advantages of the new line. It was all in vain ; I could not
overcome their dread of the new and dangerous enterprise.
At last one morning they made a murderous assault on the
surveyors, took all their instruments, and they had to run for
their lives. As soon as I had taken the deposition of these
frightened officials, I hurried back to where the crowd were
rejoicing over their victory. The leader in the assault on the
surveyors was a fisherman farmer called Charley Andrews.
We had some difficulty in carrying out his arrest. After he
had been conveyed to the city jail, I met him on one of my
usual rounds of inspection. 'Well, Charley,' I said, 'how
are you getting on ? ' 'I am all for the railway now.
Judge.' ' How has that change come over the spirit of
your dream?' said I. 'Well,' he answered, 'it was this
way. An English sailor chap got drunk and he were put
into my cell ; when he wakes in the mornin' he says to me,
"Well, old chap, what in the name of heaven brought you
here ? " I told 'un it were fer fightin' agen a railway.

A Man's Track — They kind it

'iiL-¥ .. V^

m \

A Man's Track — About to go

•* A* ^T

^'~.

A Man's Track— Settling Down to their long slinging Trot
The Suffragette Leads

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 81

"What an infernal old bloke you must be," he said, "to do
the like o' that. Why, the railway is the poor man's road,"
and then that sailor chap he up and explained to me all
about en, so I'se all for the railway.' ' But, Charley,' I
said, ' did I not explain all this to you over and over again ?
Did I not tell you all the work it would give the people,
how it would bring all the goods to your doors, and quick
passages in and out to town ? ' He hung his head in
confusion for some time. At last he took a sly glance up
at me : ' Yes, J udge, but ive knowed you was paid for sayin
dem tings.' "

On the morning of 7th September I found myself at
Glenwood, a small wayside station in the east-central portion
of Newfoundland, and here I met Little Bob Saunders, his
friend Alexander Butt, commonly called " Sandy," and all
the paraphernalia of canoes and provisions.

A word is perhaps necessary to introduce "Sandy" Butt,
as he enters these pages for the first time. He was a strong,
dark, loose-jointed fellow, standing about six feet high, whose
face bore a chronic expression of supercilious amusement.
Nearly everything in this world was to him something in
the nature of a joke ; whether it was building camp in the
dark or nearly chopping his foot off with the axe, which he
did one day, it was all the same to him, and a good subject
for whistling. A twinkle never left his eyes, and, like most
Newfoundlanders, he was hard-working and good-natured, and
never swore, for which I was grateful to him. He came
with me ostensibly as "cook," altogether a mistaken raiso7i
d'etre, for after the first day on which he made some bread,
I lived exclusively on wheatmeal biscuits. Sandy was not
the least disconcerted at this insult to his calling, but only

82 NEWFOUNDLAND

regarded his efforts at baking as another superb jest, and
" something to make the boys laugh down the Bay." But
he could handle a canoe, and for twenty-one days in cold
water was pulling, hauling, and carefully raising his little boat
over the rocks and through the stream, with endless endurance
and patience. This was just the sort of man I wanted.

It is only recently that Newfoundland has awakened to
the fact that it possesses considerable mineral and forest
wealth. Until ten years ago it imported all the lumber it
required. Now it not only supplies its own local needs, but
exports 50,000,000 feet annually. Within the past three
years Lord Northcliffe and his brothers have acquired 2000
square miles of the best timber land in the island in the
neighbourhood of the Exploits, Red Indian, and Victoria
Lakes. Much opposition, chiefly due to political agitation,
was at first brought against the grant, the wildest stories
being circulated amongst the fishermen, such as the threat-
ened destruction of ancient hunting privileges. Now since
the innovation is proving a success and stimulating labour
and business, the coming of the Harmsworths is regarded
as a blessing. If we except a small area of country in the
neighbourhood of Bay d'Espoir, there is only one other good
timber district in the island, and that is the Gander country,
till recently controlled by the Newfoundland Timber Estates,
and now to be worked by an English syndicate, represented
by Mr. Reed.

Newfoundland timber and spruce wood for pulp were
booming, so little Glenwood presented a scene of unusual
activity. About two hundred and fifty men were employed
at the mill ; nearly all Newfoundlanders, with a sprinkling of
Canadians, who from their older experience at the logging
camps of Ottawa were in a sense regarded as superior. I

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 83

sat up late in the smoking-room of the little shanty hotel,
listening to stories and " lumber " talk. All the men there,
about fifteen, were Newfoundlanders, except one, a Canadian
from Nova Scotia. He seemed a clever and rather bright
youth, and had been evidently indulging his wit at the
expense of what he considered the more slow men of the
island. At any rate they had clubbed together to sit upon
and snub him. An old Newfoundlander was expressing his
views about circular saws, when the Canadian boy interrupted
and contradicted him flatly. He then began to explain where
the Newfoundlander was wrong, when five or six of the
islanders attacked him and told him to " shut up or get."
Up at Glenwood and other logging camps Newfoundlanders
are fond of telling a story against themselves. It is generally
given in some such form as the following, a Canadian being
the spokesman.

" Say, boys, I'll tell you a funny dream I had last night.
I dreamt I died and went to Hell, which wasn't fair anyway.
Old man he met me at the gate, and said he'd jes' show me
round. ' See, boy,' he ses, ' you'll notice we got to keep
some sort of order down here's well's upstairs. Nations
got to be separated jes' same, or else they be a fightin' all
the time, an' I wouldn't hev no time to do my roastin'.
Those black fellows over there's Spaniards, Them in that
corner's Frenchies. That big crowd down yonder's trust
magnates an' African millionaires ; those two fine fellows
standin' there alone, 'cos they got here by mistake, those
are Canadians.' Yet all those unfortunate people were a
roastin' an' a sizzlin', and hevin' fearful times. Bimeby we
comes to a lot of wretched-lookin' men fastened up to the
roof with chains, and underneath them was a small fire of
sticks with the smoke a comin' up.

84 NEWFOUNDLAND

" ' What's those ? ' I ses.

"'Well — er,' ses the Devil, a rubbin' his chin, 'those is
Newfoundlanders. They're too d — d green to burn, so I'm
jes' dryin' them off a bit.' "

Mr. Whitman, the manager of the Glenwood mills, told
me that the large steamer would be at my disposal next
morning, so we obtained a trolly, and the men soon pushed
the outfit down to the Gander Lake, about a mile and a half
away. It was a delightfully hot autumn morning as we
steamed slowly down the beautiful lake.

Gander Lake is one of the largest sheets of water in New-
foundland, ^^ miles long. Away to the north stands the fine
mountain of Blue Hill, surrounded by dense woods, contain-
ing the finest trees in the island. The lake was exceedingly
low — so low in fact that even the flat-bottomed steamer had
some difficulty in making her way into deep water.

"Suppose you know every stone in the lake," was my
first remark to the captain.

" Yes, that's one of them," was the reply, as we simul-
taneously measured our length on the deck of the steamer.
A big rock had caught us when going full speed astern and
created this slight diversion. It took about ten minutes of
poling and shoving, with engines going full steam ahead,
and then we were under weigh again. In four hours we
reached the mouth of the North-West River, which debouches
into the lake amid a crowd of beautifully-wooded islands,
covered with timber, and intersected with channels. Here a
Frenchman named Frank de la Barre came aboard, having
received instructions to meet me and pilot us up through the
islands on the following day.

Frank had been in the Newfoundland woods for fifteen

EXPEDITION UP THE GxVNDER RIVER 85

years, and when I shook hands and addressed him in his
own language, a multitude of conflicting emotions seemed to
sweep across his face. I suppose even my bad French
called up a wave of happy memories of days gone by, for
at first his expression was one of incredulity, passing to that of
unrestrained delight. Then came such a rattle of the southern
tongue that I had some difficulty in understanding him. For
one dreadful moment I thought he was going to kiss me, so
I merely backed away and gave some orders about getting
our outfit into the ship's boats, for it was blowing too hard to
paddle across the lake to a point where it was necessary to
make our base for the start up the river on the following day.

We spent a comfortable night in the woods, and next
morning just as we had all the outfit packed in two canoes,
Frank de la Barre and his son turned up to guide us up
stream. Our route lay through a winding channel in and
out of dozens of small islands, past lovely backwaters which
gave peeps like the Thames at Clieveden Woods. Over
deep holes and "steadies" we paddled, having to get out
and pull the canoes over many sandy bars which only held
enough water to float them. In this way we progressed for
a couple of hours, when the main stream of the Gander
opened itself before us, and seeing that further pilotage was
unnecessary I bid good-bye to Frank.

During the first day's journey we made excellent pro-
gress, although the stream was certainly more rapid than
we had anticipated ; in fact, it was only for short spells that
we could get aboard and paddle. The whole river, about
200 yards broad, seemed to hold no deep pools or any ex-
cessive rapid. It was almost to its source for eighty miles
one level " run " over a comparatively shallow bed. Con-
sequently I soon went ashore and walked ahead of the canoes,

86 NEWFOUNDLAND

which the men pulled the whole day. On each side was
dense forest of good-sized birch, white pine, "haps" (poplars),
" vars " (firs), and rowan, which stretched away in unbroken
masses to the distant hill-crests, situated about five miles on
each side of the river bed. Here and there stood up lonely
old leafless giants, 80 to 100 feet high, the relics of bygone
" timber " that had been burnt from forty to forty-five years
agfo. There seemed to be no fish, for fish do not care for
shallow running rivers, and consequently there were no birds
to enliven the scene ; so we plodded away steadily till past
nightfall, just reaching the woods opposite the lumber camp,
where darkness had already fallen.

The next morning (loth September) a boat passed us,
carrying the " boss " of the lumber camp down stream. To
our question, he called out that there were no men above
the lumber camp, nor was anything known of the river
beyond the Great Gull River, about twenty miles up stream.
This was satisfactory, for we now hoped to see deer at any
moment. However, we plodded all day steadily on without
seeing any sign of game, although about sunset I began to
see some fresh tracks.

The following day we encountered a series of small rapids
which took the men some time to negotiate, and here I saw
the first birds, a flock of twelve old male goosanders, locally
called " Gossets," diving and chasing trout in the roughest
place. They were all moulting their "pinions" and unable
to fly, but rushed up stream over the surface of the water at
a surprising rate.

"Twilliks," too, were plentiful all along the river. The
greater yellowshank {Totanus inelanoleucus), locally known as
" Twillik," is very common in all the Newfoundland rivers
during the summer and autumn. It arrives in May and

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 87

departs in October, after the breeding season. A regular
winter visitor to America and the West Indies, it is there
known as the "tell-tale," "tell-tale tattler," "winter yellow-
leg," and " stone-snipe." The birds are commonly seen in
Newfoundland singly or in small parties of four or five.
They love to run about the stones, catching flies, or upon
the boggy and sandy shores of the lakes, where their atti-
tudes and movements much resemble our native greenshank.
I have seen a party on feed sweeping their bills from side
to side in the shallow water, after the manner of the avocet,
and thus they obtain minute insects. When you approach
a small flock they become very noisy, uttering a harsh note,
something like the cry of the greenshank, but louder. If
" cornered " in the angle of a lake or stream, they run
anxiously to and fro, bobbing up and down with their bodies
just like the redshank. In the British Isles it has only
occurred once, namely at Scilly, in September 1906.

In the afternoon we came to a place where the sides of
the river were broken, low-lying, and full of swamps covered
with long grass and alder. So I kept a sharp look-out,
sitting down constantly to spy ahead, and pausing to exa-
mine the broken leads where stags had been in the habit
of breaking down from the forest to the river. I had come
to the mouth of the Great Gull River, and the canoes had
just caught me up, when, giving a glance across the stream, I
saw the white stern of a deer feeding away round the corner
of an island.

Saunders paddled me across the stream, and I landed on
the marsh where the animal had disappeared. Walking
rapidly up-wind, there was no sign of it, however, so we
continued our way up a branch stream, commanding another
island containing a dense alder thicket. I was about to

88 NEWFOUXDLAXD

turn back to the canoes when there was the sound like a
stick cracking, and the next moment the top of a caribou
stag's horn appeared above the bush about 130 yards away.
The next moment it disappeared, though I could now see
the line of the animal's back. Another moment and the
stag would be gone for ever, so I rested the Mannlicher
on the top of Little Bob's head, and let go. The stag instantly
plunged forward into view, showing at once that it was hard
hit ; I could now see the head and shoulders, so I fired
again, and the beast, with a bullet in the neck, immediately
fell dead.

Saunders soon brought the canoes round, and, crossing
over the island, we examined our first prize, which proved
to be a fair beast of about five years old. Sandy now joined
us, and we lost no time in taking the best of the haunch
meat, fat, and tongue, and in half-an-hour had continued
our journey, feeling very happy, as every hunter does when
his camp is well supplied with the food on which men alone
can hunt.

Shortly after passing the park-like scenery on the banks
of the Great Gull River, the river narrowed again, and fresh
sign of deer — the tracks of big stags only — became more
frequent. It was just getting dusk, and I was thinking of
stopping to make camp for the night, when I heard the
subdued roar of the waterfall about a mile ahead, so we
resolved to press on in the dark, reaching a clump of timber
close behind the fall itself, and at a spot where portaging
would be easy on the following day.

Taken all round, this was about the most successful trip
I ever made, but, just as there are always days in every
hunter's life in which everything seems to go wrong and
nothing is right, I instance the following as an example of

<
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EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 89

how ill-luck and a bit of obstinacy may serve to upset what
one fondly thinks are correct calculations. The following
is copied from my diary : —

September 12. — Last night it rained in torrents, but the
day broke clear and pellucid as a morning in Algiers. I
was eating my breakfast when Little Bob, who had been to
prospect the fall, came in to say that a short distance up
was a beautiful open country on the right bank, and that,
while he was looking in that direction, a young stag had
come out and crossed the river, going south. It was evidently
a pass, so, whilst the men were making a path to carry the
outfit and canoes around the fall, I resolved to go and smoke
my pipe and watch.

A series of rocky ledges jutted into the river on the
south bank, and on this I lay down, as it commanded an
extensive and beautiful view of the landscape — of the open,
marshy country rising to the north, and the park-like country
adjoining the river to the west. A dense wood of closely
packed young spruces occupied the right bank of the river
immediately opposite, and this was abruptly divided by a
pebbly brook, up which I could plainly see for 500 yards,
where it debouched from a broad marsh, a likely-looking
spot indeed for game to haunt and to make passes, for they
always choose the shortest and easiest routes from one open
country to another.

It was pleasant to sit and watch the morning sunlight
creeping along the tops of the forest trees, the dark green
banks of spruce, the silvery birches, and over the yellow
marshes. A belted kingfisher, with the sun glistening on
his slate-blue back, came and contemplated the rushing waters
within a few yards of where I lay, and two American goshawks

90 NEWFOUNDLAND

soared overhead lazily, or chased one another in clumsy play.
The heat of the day had not commenced, and the great grey
curtain of midges were still a scattered mass of lethargic
life, reposing on the river stones.

During the warm hours of the day black flies make life
a burden to some people, especially to the natives, and to
such an extent are their bites felt that many will not venture
up the rivers in summer and early autumn. Personally I did
not suffer much from their attentions, but I have seen men
absolutely driven out of the country by them. In the evening
sand-flies and mosquitoes are sometimes almost unbearable,
the only relief being obtained by smoking continuously beside
a good camp fire.

With regard to black flies and mosquitoes and their
onslaughts on idle persons, a delightful homily with a beauti-
ful moral is thus given by Captain Whitbourne (1622).

"Neither are there any Snakes, Toads, Serpents, or any
other venomous Wormes that ever were known to hurt any
man in that Country, but onely a very little nimble Fly (the
least of all other Flies), which is called a Muskeito ; those
Flies seem to have a great power and authority upon all
loytering and idle people that come to the New-found-land ;
for they have this property that, when they find any such
lying lazily, or sleeping in the Woods, they will presently bee
more nimble to seize upon them, than any Sargeant will bee
to arrest a man for debt ; neither will they leave stinging or
sucking out the blood of such sluggards, until, like a Beadle,
they bring him to his Master, where he should labour : in
which time of loytering, those Flies will so brand such idle
persons in their faces, that they may be known from others,
as the Turks do their slaves."

Nothing moved, and there was no sound save the roar

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 91

ot the waterfall below, or the "clinking" of white-winged
crossbills passing overhead.

I looked dreamily through the smoke of my pipe away
up stream. All of a sudden some big animal burst from
the timber about 500 yards up stream on the north bank.
It turned sideways, and I saw that it was a large black bear.
With that long, swinging stride so characteristic of the
genus, she, for I am sure the beast was a female that had
brought forth cubs this summer, advanced rapidly down the
river, here about 100 yards broad. The head was held very
low, and the legs struck me as being longer and more
spindly in proportion to the body than those of other bears
I have seen. Every now and then she raised her head,
examining the character of the bushes, and once stopped
and went up to a small tree, which I afterwards found to
be a wild cherry, and clawed down a sprig or two which
she munched as she continued the journey down stream.

All this time the bear was rapidly advancing nearer to
me, and I had already chosen the best spot on the other
side of the river where I should fire at her. I had a perfect
position, my back comfortably tucked in the cranny of a ledge
of rock and both legs firmly planted against the asperities
of a slate slab. The distance would be just about 100 yards
when she came opposite to me, and I was beginning to feel
that there would be a certainty of an easy shot. But " the
best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang oft agley." I looked
up at the oncoming bear, and, to my intense disappointment,
saw her suddenly leave the river shore and plunge into the
forest. The bank was steep at this point, and it seemed a
most unlikely place for a " lead " to exist ; yet, as I after-
wards found, there was one there which had been daily used
by bears.

92 NEWFOUNDLAND

A slender hope now seized me, that the bear might work
on through this belt of young spruce and cross the little
brook coming down from the open barren. Accordingly, I
kept a sharp look-out, and in a few minutes was rewarded
by seeing a small willow tree violently agitated about 150
yards up the left bank of the stream. It now seemed possible
that one might see and get a shot at the bear after all,
though not an easy one, as she was likely to cross the brook,
on which I could see her plainly. Hardly had I fixed
myself into shooting position when she came swiftly down the
bank, and at a quick walk entered the shallow stream. At
this moment I fired, and saw the bear half flounder on to
her side, but instantly recover and dash up the bank again
out of sight. She was undoubtedly hard hit, for, had the
shot missed, I should have seen the bullet strike the water
above or below.

There was no hurry, for I expected the bear to run a
hundred yards or so and fall dead, so I sat down with
considerable satisfaction, lit another pipe, and awaited the
coming of the men with the first portage loads. In about
ten minutes Bob and Sandy appeared, staggering under a
weight of provisions. The noise of the waterfall had drowned
the sound of the shot, so that their astonishment was great
when I told them that I thought I had killed a bear. Whilst
explaining the whole story to Saunders and pointing out
the spot where Mrs. Bruin had disappeared, suddenly another
large bear appeared at the edge of the barren, about 500
yards away. It was evidently the mate of the pair, and he
walked quietly down in the stream and started to cross into
the timber where the wounded one had gone. The shot
was nearly a hopeless one, owing to the distance and the
fact that I had to stand up to see the object at all. The

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 93

little bullet, however, went very near, and splashed the water
all over Mr. Bear, who got a dreadful fright, and made off
with all possible speed.

Bob Saunders and I now crossed the river, and found the
spot where the wounded bear had entered the timber ; indeed
there was no mistaking it, for a trail of blood which looked
as if it had been poured out of a tea-kettle led away into the
densest bush. There was now a possibility of trouble, so I
sent Bob back for the other Mannlicher. The young spruce
trees were growing so closely together that in many places
we had to crawl on our hands and knees, along the actual
paths which the bears themselves had made. It was like
hunting a flea in a box of matches. In the worst places, if
one stood up, it was not possible to force a way ahead.
Consequently we had to be careful, as the bear was pro-
bably not dead, and we should not see it at a greater distance
than 5 or 6 feet. The blood trail itself showed a firm
dark line on the bright yellow green moss, so we easily
followed it for about 500 yards ; then we came to a round
knoll of soft wet moss, which plainly told its tale. The
wounded bear had just been lying here, and we had moved
her. There was the imprinted mark of her whole left flank
and the bullet exit hole mark, where the blood had flowed
freely. The poor beast was hit right through the lungs, and
the bullet, a solid one with the nose well filled, had not
sufficiently expanded. Immediately the bear had risen to run
from us the blood had ceased to flow. I suppose that the
cold wet moss must have staunched the wound, for the blood
marks ceased. We threshed around for ten minutes or so,
could find no further trail, for the soft paw of the plantigrade
leaves no spoor on moss, and then sat down to deplore our
ill-luck.

94 NEWFOUNDLAND

What would I not have oriven for a httle Norwes^ian elk-
hound at that moment. The bear may have gone a mile
or two, or she may have been lying dead within a hundred
yards of us ; at any rate we were now incapable of following
her, so reluctantly we fought our way back to the river, and
tried to make as light of the loss as possible.

The black bear is still fairly numerous in the unfrequented
parts of Newfoundland, but every year sees a diminution in
their numbers owing to the attacks of the Indians. In 1822
Cormack describes them as abundant, and speaks of the
numerous "bear-roads" which he found in all parts of the
interior. Now such paths are rarely seen. Every year in
the month of September the Indians repair to the high look-
outs, and watch the open tracts of country covered with
blueberry patches. Here they spy, stalk, and shoot the bears
which come to feed at dawn and sunset. In this manner
they kill from three to nine bears apiece, and few escape
except those which live almost exclusively in the forests. In
years when berries are scarce, many bears repair to the edge
of the salt water and feed on caplin and fish refuse. Some-
times they attack the farmers' sheep, and I know of one
instance in which a bear swam a mile to an island in Fortune
Bay, and killed twenty-five sheep in a single night. They are
slow and poor swimmers, and the Esquimaux of Labrador go
so far as to say that they cannot swim at all. But this is
incorrect. About the end of April the black bear emerges
from its winter retreat in some rocky cave or old tree stump,
and commences to feed on roots and leaves of various trees.
In May the female brings forth her two young ones, and
tends them carefully until the autumn, when they shift for
themselves. They keep closely to the woods until July, when

a
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liM^'

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 95

the berries are ripe, and feed on these until the middle of
October. At the first frosts, however, they leave this food,
which is now falling from the bushes, and go in search of
the carcases of deer, scenting them from a great distance.
In October, too, they ascend the rowan trees to a consider-
able height, breaking off the branches containing the fruit,
and sliding down the trunk with the skill of an acrobat. I
have seen several trees scored by the marks of their claws
as they descended at top speed. The Indians have told me
that when the bear is hungry he often grabs greedily at the
rowan berries, and, losing his balance, falls with a thud to
the ground. Whereupon he shouts with pain and mortifica-
tion, and, finding that no bones are broken, sulkily ascends
the tree again. John Hinx has seen a bear fall twice out of
a high tree, and shot him as he was climbing the third time.
Like the fox, they are exceedingly careful when approaching
a carcase for the first time (as I shall presently describe),
but after they have had a meal of it, will advance boldly up-
wind. A few are killed by the Indians in the " deadfall," but
bears are so cunning in Newfoundland that they are not
often captured in this fashion. Their mischievous habit of
wrecking a camp or tilt is well known, and few travellers in
the interior have not suffered from their unwelcome visits.

When the black bear enters a tilt or wigwam, it opens
and scatters everything within, whilst it has a curious habit
of never departing by the way of entry, preferring to scrape
a hole in the side of the shelter by way of exit. Sometimes
it tears the whole place to pieces out of pure wickedness.

Steve Bernard carried a sack of flour and all his stores
and ammunition to his log tilt on Jubilee Lake in the autumn
of 1902, and then repaired to the coast to see the priest.
When he returned, the whole tilt, including fir logs weighing

96 NEWFOUNDLAND

several hundred pounds, were scattered through the woods,
and not a dollar's worth of the outfit remained. Two bears
were the aggressors, and so cunning were they that the
trapper completely failed to shoot or trap them. One man
I know of, after losing all his stores, had his canoe bitten to
pieces.

About the middle of November the black bear chooses a dry
spot in which to hibernate. If the winter is mild, he comes
out again for a short time, but the first heavy snowfall drives
him again into his sleeping apartment, the entrance of which
he closes carefully with moss and leaves. These retreats are
but rarely found even by the Indians, who are always in the
woods. A good skin is worth about ^5, and the length
seldom exceeds 6 feet. Joe Jeddore killed a large dog bear
near Burnt Hill in 1901, which measured 7 feet 6 inches, and
doubtless specimens even bigger than this have occurred in
the island, but I can obtain no reliable records. In the
autumn they are very fat, and the meat and grease are
much appreciated, both by the red men and the white. If
ordinary precautions are taken, these animals are not in the
least dangerous, and the few accidents which have occurred
were entirely due to carelessness on the part of the hunters.
It is not safe, however, to fire at a bear when the animal is
very close on a hillside above the shooter, because when
receiving a mortal wound the bear always rushes blindly down
hill, and then seizes with its teeth the first object that comes
in its way. All bears do this. I once shot at a very big
grizzly, and the first thing it did was to demolish a small tree
standing near by. Charges by bears, described by youthful
hunters with hair-raising sensationalism, are seldom charges
at all, for the poor bear receiving the shot rushes madly in
any direction, and in doing so, it may run on the top of you.

Six Heads Killed on the Gander, September 1903

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 97

In the old records of Newfoundland we read that the white
Polar bear was a regfular winter visitor to the coast in the seven-
teenth century. Since then its appearance became rarer as time
went on. Until 1825, a few were always found on the ice off
White Bay by the spring sealers, and an odd one killed on the
shore, but now it can only be recorded as very scarce. A
Newfoundland lady, who was present at the following incident,
has told me that twenty-five years ago the inhabitants of the
village of Wittlebay were coming out of church one Sunday
morning, when they were startled by seeing an immense
Polar bear strolling down the hill close to the church door.
There were no guns at hand, so four men bravely attacked
it with axes and killed it. A dispute as to the possession
of the hide arising, the skin was cut into four pieces, and
may be seen in certain houses of the village to this day.
A propos of this strange method of division, which has always
been in force in Newfoundland, I am reminded of a true
incident which occurred about eighty years ago in Fortune
Bay, when the disgraceful practice of " wrecking " was by no
means extinct. A barque which had been lured on to the
rocks by false lights, placed there by some good Christian
belonging to a certain village which shall be nameless, had
on board a cottage piano, an instrument which neither of the
boat's crews which claimed it had ever seen before. The
matter was, however, eventually settled by its being sawn in
two pieces, one party taking the treble and the other the bass.

Wrecking as a profitable industry ceased to flourish in
Newfoundland about fifty years ago, "in the dear delightful
days of Arcadian simplicity, when port wine was a shilling
a bottle, and the colony had no debt." The Newfoundland
Government had much difficulty in stamping it out, owing to
the fact that the people of the south coast had indulged in

98 NEWFOUNDLAND

the nefarious practice for centuries, and could with difficulty
be persuaded that they were doing anything that was not
perfectly legitimate. Whatever came ashore as the flotsam
and jetsam of the ocean was theirs by right, so they con-
sidered, and many cases of a shocking character were dealt
with by Judge Prowse, who was sent to enforce the law.

" Seafaring people," he says, " look upon wrecks as their
lawful prizes, gifts sent to them direct by Providence, and
their views about these fatalities were characteristic. Mostly
the vessels contained valuable cargoes, but occasionally it was
otherwise. 1 heard an old Irishwoman declare about one
'wrack,' 'I don't know what God Almighty is thinking
about, sending us a terrible bad fishery, and then an old
Norwegian brig full of nothing but rocks.'

"In one instance I was sent to look after a very bad
case of absolute piracy. The fishermen attacked the master
and crew whilst their schooner was ashore, cut her masts,
and forcibly took away all her gear and stores. I had to
put up at the principal settler's house in this little cove. I
well knew all were implicated in the wreck. They asked
me to go in and see the mistress of the house, an old
woman suffering from asthma. After I had told her of
some remedies, she gasped out, ' Oh, why did they come
so near the shore ? Oh, why did they come so near the
shore to timpt the poor peoples ? '

" Wrecking cases always gave me capital sport, as they
all happened in very out-of-the-way places, where there
were very good grouse-moors. I once shot a whole covey
of a dozen birds with the police, witnesses, and prisoners
acting as beaters and markers. The grouse were scattered
and rose in pairs. I had to swing round each time to shoot
the second bird. The last killed was a very long shot, and

EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 99

it fell into a crevice of the rock ; one of the prisoners, a
long, slim fellow, was lowered down by the heels to recover
it. All the accused and witnesses in the case were keen
hunters. I knew right well that if I had made a bad shot,
neither my legal acumen nor sound judgment would have
won their appreciation half as much as straight shooting."'

But we have wandered away to the south coast, and
must return to the Gander.

Looking up the river from the lower fall of the Gander
was, I think, one of the most beautiful landscapes that I
have seen in my expeditions in Newfoundland. The rocks
in the foreground were of the most lovely colour, a rich
blue grey. Over these poured masses of amber water of
pellucid clearness. Little brooks and shining barrens peeping
out from amidst the dark forest on the right bank, led the
eye away up to distant hills of the most intense blue, whilst
in the middle distance, away up the glistening river, were
islands covered with the finest "haps" (poplars) in New-
foundland, every leaf a-quiver in the blazing sun. On the
left bank the land rose in rugged and distorted shapes, and
was all covered with a medley of golden birch and scarlet
rowan, and trees standing clear against a brown mass of
tall " vars," and spruces in whose depths the glints of sun-
light mixed with the purple shadows. Yet all this hetero-
geneous mass of colour seemed to blend, for nature makes
no mistake with her paints, whilst for once the composition
of the picture was perfect and worthier of a more skilful
brush than mine. " Rolling Falls " of the Gander is such
a subject as only a great artist could do justice to.

About two miles up the river was another small water-
fall, not so heavy as the lower one, but nevertheless neces-

' Cornhill Magazine, April 1904.

100 NEWFOUNDLAND

sitating a portage of the whole of the outfit. Here we saw
some salmon jumping, which showed that the lower fall offered
no bar to the progress of fish. After a hearty meal in the
blazing sun, we resumed our journey up continuous "rattles"
of water, through which the men made excellent progress,
in spite of the fact that the rocks were covered with "slob,"
i.e. a green slimy weed.

We were now in quite virgin country, where the foot of
the only two white men had ever trodden, once when Howley
made his survey of the river with two Indians, some time
in the seventies, and Mr. Willis in October 1901, and again
when Mr. Willis went there on a prospecting trip. There
was not a sign that Indians had ever been here ; not an
axe mark was seen on the trees above this, and we were
far beyond the ken of the "White-Ends." The Indians,
too, would never come here except for beaver, and of beaver
there were none in the main stream. I experienced, there-
fore, the delight that every hunter feels in knowing that
he has no neighbours except the deer and the bears, and
that at any minute he may strike a new country, the veri-
table home of the mighty antlered monarchs, and such a
sanctuary as the first travellers in the Rockies and South
Africa discovered. In a minor form I did discover such a
sportsman's paradise, for I do not suppose any previous
traveller in Newfoundland ever cast his eyes on so many
fine caribou stags in a short time, as I was fortunate enough
to do during the next fortnight.

The bear incident was not the only unlucky event of
this day, September 12. I must follow out its incidents
with full confession to the setting of the sun. I had travelled
on about a mile ahead of the boats, and was keeping a sharp
look-out ahead, as well as on the many fresh tracks of big

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EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 101

stags that were imprinted wherever there was sand betwixt
the stones. About 4 p.m. I came to a broad sweep of the
river, where a fine view expanded itself. Opposite to me
was a large wooded island — " Twillik " Island the Indians
call it — with shallows at its bend, and just a likely-looking
crossing-place for stags. So I sat down and slapped con-
tinuously at the black flies and mosquitoes, which were very
troublesome. Opposite was a backwater beyond the island.
There was much grass, bog bean, and alder there, and a
good place for a stag to " shove out," so I had more than
one chance to see game. Half-an-hour went by, and the
canoes had just reached me as I stood up to resume the
journey, when, looking across the backwater, I saw a grand
stag emerge from the woods and begin to feed without
concern. I immediately sat down and got ready to fire.
The distance seemed about 250 yards, for the beast looked
large, and I felt I could hit him. First shot, a miss. The
stag raised his head and looked about. I could not see
where the bullet struck ; took again a full sight, and fired.
The stag stepped forward evidently untouched. I fired again
— same result.

" What distance are you shootin' at? " said Bob hurriedly.

"Two hundred and fifty yards," I replied laconically.

" He's four hundred if he's a yard," replied Saunders.

•' He's not," I said obstinately, and fired again without
result. The stag now ran along the marsh looking for his
"lead" in the forest. Presently he found it, and I let go
the last cartridge in the magazine as he disappeared from
view.

I stood up, feeling annoyed, as I was quite steady when
making the shots. Immediately I came to my feet I saw
that Bob was right, and that I had far under-estimated the

102 NEWFOUNDLAND

distance. Across the river was at least two hundred yards,
and from thence to the forest edge was as far again.
I acknowledged my mistake, and humbled myself before
Saunders, whose powers of judging distances over two
hundred yards were usually at fault. This time, however,
he had been quite right. The stag seemed to carry a very
fine head, but then they always do when they get away.

We travelled on for a mile or two, and then camped
for the night on a steep bank of larch, and the night
closed in with heavy rain, which put a finishing touch to
this unfortunate day.

CHAPTER V

A HUNTER'S PARADISE

The next day being Sunday, we rested, and on Monday, 14th
September, continued up stream, the men being" greatly
hampered by the shallowness of the water, the "slobby"
rocks, and a somewhat tempestuous head-wind. Saunders
fell in up to his neck four times during the morning, but
the day was not cold, so we worked on five miles to the
mouth of Migwell's Brook, a small stream that enters the
Gander on the north bank about fifty miles from the
lake.

I was about two miles ahead of the canoes, and sat
behind a large rock. It was blowing half a gale, and the
time being midday, I hardly expected to see game. As the
wind swayed and rocked the forest at my back, one became
accustomed to the crackle and brush of twig upon twig and
bough against bough, but somehow more than once I could
not help thinking that I heard dry wood " snapping " when
there was a lull. The inner consciousness of doubt soon
resolved itself into a certainty that some large animal was
breaking down a tree close beside me, so I dropped my book,
cocked the rifle, and looked over the high bank just as
wild cherry was violently shaken almost in my face.

" Now, Mr. Bruin, I have you at last," I said to myself,
in the excitement of the moment. But it was not a bear
after all, but a great caribou stag, with horns evidently on
the decline, staring me in the face at a distance of about six

103

104 NEWFOUNDLAND

yards. I have never been so near a wild deer before, and
he backed away from the cherry tree before deciding to
make a bolt of it. One moment we both stood still and
stared at one another, and having mutually decided that
our heads were unnecessary, he gave a plunge and was gone.
The stag had hardly vanished when a tinkle of falling stones
made me look to the left, and there I saw another good-sized
stag carrying about thirty points, walking leisurely along the
open stones away from me. He gave me one proud glance,
ran a few steps, and then settled to a walk, at which pace
he continued till lost to sight round a bend in the river.
He was a fine young stag of perhaps five years, but the tops
were unfinished, wherefore not deemed good enough in new
ground like this. I followed the track of this stag some
little distance, and it led me north to low sandy hills and
into a beautiful broken country, all leads, marshes, opens, and
clumps of spruces, just the place for "summering" stags.
I saw, too, five or six small larches newly " stripped," where
stags had cleaned their horns recently, so when the men
came up I decided to stop a day and hunt.

The sun was low as Saunders and I left the camp.
Glancing up the stream from the point of Migwell's Brook,
we at once noticed two young stags come from a lead on
the north bank, and across the river. Everything seemed
to show that we were now in a great stag country. The
does had all passed on out to the open marshes to the south,
and the old males would remain here solitary or in pairs for
at least another fortnight, before they, too, would follow,
and seek them in the open marshes of the high country.

We crept noiselessly up the sandy hills till we came to
a hillock rising higher than the rest. Here I ascended a
larch, and spied the surrounding country for a mile or two.

A HUNTER'S PARADISE 105

Much of it was very " blind," but towards the river there
were many open spaces and little hills where game might be
viewed. The sun was already setting when we decided to
move on a little farther before returning, as a dip, fringed
by large trees, hid the course of the brook, and many of the
leads trended northwards along the waterside, always a
favourite walk for deer. We had hardly rounded the first
hillock when I perceived the white stern of a large stag on
another little hill about one hundred yards away. The
beast was feeding quietly, so I got out the telescope and
examined him.

"He seems to have a lot of points. Bob," I said, "but
horns look thin." At this moment the stag raised his noble
head to chew the cud, and I had a good side view of it.
That movement decided his fate. An instant later I sat
with my back to a tree, and put two bullets into him. At
the first he never winced, although a mortal blow, but on
receiving the second he rolled over quite dead. As I rose
to my feet a movement on another hillock to the right
caught my eye, and immediately a second stag, nearly, but
not quite so good as the first, stepped into full view. The
glass was soon surveying his cranial ornaments, which, though
carrying about thirty points, looked thin, whilst the " bays "
were poor, so he was allowed to depart. He gave a " whoof "
of terror as soon as I rose, and, erecting the hair of his scut,
dashed off at full gallop. This was the third time on the
same day that I had seen two stags together, which shows
the disposition of the male caribou for society during his
period of summer seclusion.

We now walked up to our first warrantable prize, which
proved to carry a better head than I had at first thought.
The horns were not heavy, but carried thirty-five points.

106 NEWFOUNDLAND

and all set in those beautiful wild curves that go to make
up a really good head. He had good double front shovels
prettily interlocked, and very handsome wild " tops " to the
horns, containing several extra straggly points, which add so
much to the beauty of any head. At any rate I felt pleased
with our first trophy, and it was with light hearts we re-
turned to camp, where Bob at once set to work to skin,
whilst Sandy prepared an excellent supper.

Next day Bob and I wandered far to the north, getting
into some abominable ground, from which it took us some
hours to extricate ourselves. The farther we went from the
river and Migwell's Brook, the less sign of deer was notice-
able, and the worse the timber became. Just as we left
camp we saw two stags, but their heads were of no account,
and in the evening two more crossed the river and came
walking by the camp not more than fifty yards away. One
of these was a regular old patriarch. His horns were
narrowed to mere thin spires, and I believe he was partly
deaf, for it was not till I had thrown two stones at him,
and then warmed him up with a swan shot from my catapult,
that he condescended to take any notice of me. Many of
these stags which I now saw had probably never seen
man before, for on several occasions, when the wind was
right, one could take surprising liberties with them, without
their seeming alarmed. Never in my life did I regret the
loss of a camera so much as during the next fortnight.
In the hurry of packing I had left it at the station at Glen-
wood, and it was not till I returned there that it came in for
any use. During our absence Sandy said that a stag with
a fair head walked by the camp between him and the river,
a distance of fourteen yards. The unsuspecting animal had
stopped a moment to observe our cook peeling potatoes, and

A HUNTER'S PARADISE 107

had then resumed his journey down stream without altering
his pace from a walk.

It may seem to the reader, if he only knows a little
about big-game hunting, that to shoot such tame animals
is almost devoid of sport, and in many cases he would be
right in the case of the caribou. It is the other chances
that produce the necessity of quick decision, with long and
sometimes difficult shots, which make the chase of the caribou
a fascinating one. The object of the hunter in new ground
where game is abundant is naturally to secure the best heads,
and an exceptional trophy may sometimes be obtained in
the easiest manner. On the other hand, I had several times
seen a stag rush out of the forest with a clatter of stones,
scamper into the river as if in fun, stand a minute or two
in the stream and drink, and then gallop or swim across
to the farther bank, where he will only glance round for a
second before disappearing for good up some lead. They
are not frightened, but are perhaps in a hurry to reach
some favourite feeding ground in a secluded glade back
from the river. In such a case you may be five to eight
hundred yards from the stag when you first view him, and
have to strain every muscle to run that four or five hundred
yards which brings you within a long shot. Then, tem-
porarily blown, you must sit at once to take your shot, and
have no time to hunt out a good position. The wind may
be wrong, or the stag may just walk to the water's edge,
drink for a second or two, and then turn again into the
forest. During these few minutes, too, you must have
your glass handy to see whether his head is good enough
(and I do not know any deer whose horns are so difiicult
to judge in a short period of sight. Sometimes at one
angle they look splendid, and at another quite poor, so

108 NEWFOUNDLAND

you are torn with conflicting emotions in those few minutes
of intense activity and excitement). This form of the chase,
which 1 may appropriately call " river-hunting," offers both
the easiest and the most difficult chances at deer. In the
open marshes the caribou stag is generally at your mercy.
You have time to circumvent him and to lay your plans.
If you are anything of a shot and take care not to walk
about too much, or give him the wind, he is yours. But
by the river it is different. The stag appears ; you must
shoot at once or run like a hare to get into range, for
he may disappear at any second, and generally, too, your
shot is taken at the wrong end of the beast, though that is
not of much moment, as in the old days of inferior rifles.

The following morning, 15th September, we continued
to ascend the Gander. A strong head-wind was blowing,
and the men experienced much difficulty in keeping on
their feet and preventing our frail craft from breaking. I
walked on for about five miles, and then sat down to spy
as the country suddenly opened up, and I saw, for the
first time since leaving the lake, a high, open, sparsely-
wooded country. The men with the canoes arrived about
midday, and, just as Bob came opposite to me, he slipped
off a stone and fell in over his neck.

"This is my lucky day," he said philosophically; "only
been in twice this morning."

We sat down to dinner on the bank, and, after much
wrangling, I got him to change his clothes, which he did
with many protests. Little Bob had half "shifted" when,
it seems, he was overcome with curiosity as to the exceed-
ingly "gamy-looking" nature of the mountain opposite, so,
without saying a word, he captured my telescope, which he
had now come to use with some success, and slipped off

Eley Brass Cartridges Chewed by Black Bears

Sandy Butt at Work

A HUNTER'S PARADISE 109

in the bushes. Like a good man he had gone to spy the
hill from the only point it could be properly seen, namely,
to the marsh on the north bank. In one minute he came
running back, saying —

" Dare's a great lump of a stag above us, 'bout 300 feet."

There was only one way up on to this high ground, and
that was up a well-worn caribou path, which seemed to lead
directly down-wind to the point where Saunders said the
stag was feeding. The wind was strong, and inclined to
shoot our taint upwards, as I found on trying it with tobacco
smoke. Nevertheless we decided to chance it.

The path itself was beaten down with fresh tracks cross-
ing a hillside marsh. Then it became suddenly dry and
stony, and we wound up on to a tiny plateau with small
clumps of birch.

"'Twas 'bout here he was when I seen him," was Bob's
remark, scarcely emitted than a loud rattle of stones pro-
claimed that the stag was started. Fortunately, he galloped
up the hill and then alongside it, giving me a full broadside.
I had time to see his head was large and sufficiently good,
without many points ; then, standing up to see him properly,
I put the first bullet through his right horn. The chamber
was immediately opened and closed, and I got in my second
shot just as he was tearing into a droke of birch. The
little missile went true, breaking both shoulders ; the stag
performed a complete somersault like a shot rabbit, and
was nearly dead when we came up to him.

There was one thing remarkable about this deer, and that
was his great size ; and Saunders, who was well qualified to
speak on the subject, said he was the largest caribou stag
he had ever seen in his life. An immense brute, nearly as
big as a wapiti, it took all our efforts to turn him over in

110 NEWFOUNDLAND

the place where he lay, and had we the space to have
carried the complete skin, I should certainly have brought it
home for the museum.

Whilst Bob was attending to the head skin, I took the
telescope to view the magnificent panorama that now spread
itself before me.

At our feet, glittering in the sunlight, was the Blue
Gander, and up this beautiful river, so like our Tay in
Scotland, one could see for four or five miles to the entrance
of Little Gull River away to the west. At the back rose
the mountains known as Serpentine Hill, of some 800 or
900 feet elevation, and spread out below, though gradually
rising away to the north, was a succession of woods and
open marshes, on any of which there was a good chance of
seeing the great white-necked stag or a black bear.

Bob had scarcely commenced his work, and I had not
even begun to use the glass, for the prospect of the scene
was in itself delightful, when looking down I saw another
big caribou stag come out of the woods and walk quickly
across a wide open marsh about half a mile below. One
word to Bob was enough, and at a jog trot we set off
downhill, passing through two small belts of timber and a
mountain stream. Half the distance was overcome when it
was deemed necessary to view the position of our quarry.
Yes, there he was, right in the centre of the swamp, and
either feeding or drinking, for his head was down. There
was no particular hurry, so we advanced easily, and presently
found ourselves overlooking the open marsh. Now there was
nothing left but a good old-fashioned crawl with the cold
water running in at your collar stud and out at your boots.
This I did by myself till I reached a point within 200 yards
from the stag, where seeing him so quiet I turned round and

A HUNTER'S PARADISE 111

signalled to Bob so that we could discuss his respective
merits. After examining the ground carefully I saw first that
by making a flanking manoeuvre I could probably come in
again on the deer and reach a small island of bush, with a
stunted larch in the centre, and should then be within
loo yards of the stag. This required care, as we had to
cross an open of about 20 yards within view of the deer,
but old Roman-nose seemed absorbed in a brown study, so
this insult to his sight and intelligence was unnoticed, and
we reached the desired haven.

But what was the old fellow doing? His attitude in-
dicated utter misery and woe. His head hung down, and
ears flopped forwards like a sick donkey. He never moved
from his position of dejection for ten minutes except once,
when he lowered his nose into the marsh, and I could see
him suck up the peat and muddy water. Now I had it : he
was love-sick and taking in this stimulant to cool his passion.
I daresay the reader, if he has killed deer in Scotland in
October, will have noticed that certain stags when gralloched
have nothing in their stomach but a peaty fluid. This is
probably their only nutriment when in full rut, as the stag
does not feed at this season, and seems to live for a week or
two on his own previous condition. So, too, this old caribou
stag must have been doing exactly the same, for when I cut
him up I found nothing but this fluid in his stomach. It is
probably a general habit of the whole genus Cervidce during
the season of love and war.

We looked his head over very carefully. Brows fair,
bays very good and strong, tops very moderate. I hesitated,
and had decided to spare his life, as I hoped to get better.

"You'll have to shoot him," said Bob; "he is very good,
and a've seen many a season when a' should have been

112 NEWFOUNDLAND

pleased if a' brought out a head like that from the Terra-
Nova country."

Still I thought it best to spare him. "Whistle him up,
Bob," I said; "we'll see what he looks like when he holds
his head up." My companion whistled once, twice, and then
gave a shout. Ye Gods ! what a sudden change from the
listless donkey to the alert king of the forest. His head was
up in the air now, and he looked totally different ; a fine
heavy head, and certainly worth possessing. As I raised
the rifle he bolted at full gallop straight away, and I made
a very lucky shot as he fled in full career, the bullet enter-
ing at the back of his head and causing instant death. He
fell so suddenly and with such force that he smashed the
lower jaw to pieces and buried the antlers out of sight in
the marsh, from which we had to unearth them. Like the
other stag this was a very big old beast with a good
massive head of thirty-two points. The work of cutting up
the deer and preserving the head would occupy some time,
so I accompanied Saunders back to camp, and then spent
the evening spying from the hillside.

Just before sunset I saw a fine stag about a mile away
across the river. I could see he had grand tops and very
thick horns. He wandered into a thick forest, but the time
being too late to go for him I returned to camp.

We were, however, destined to meet later.

«■— ^-^s— -^^^^z:^-^-- ■ - -?' ' 1i '7:>. %

0 '-f-x

CHAPTER VI

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER AND RETURN TO GLENWOOD

My water babies both worked hard that night, Bob attending
to the head skins and Sandy cleaning the skulls, so that
next day we were able to make an extended expedition to
the unexplored country to the south. About an hour's
walk brought us to the summit, and the weather being
delightfully warm and clear, we could see some ten miles
in every direction. To the west a long silver streak
embayed in forest disclosed a lake about four miles long
running north and south, but whether Little Gull River
flows through and out of this sheet of water I am unable
to say, as I had no time to follow the river, which at its
junction with the Gander is fully as large as the more
important stream.^ Beyond Little Gull River, and to the
north, the country was once more blind and dense, which
was something in the nature of a disappointment, as we
had hoped to find it similar in character to our present
surroundings. On reaching the summit of the southern hills,
over which large numbers of female caribou had recently
passed, we came within view of typical Newfoundland high
ground scenery — an endless succession of small and large
lakes, marshes, and scattered timber, all of which pointed
east and west. The climb to the summit had entailed some
exertion, though the going was good, so we sat and admired

' I afterwards found that the lake, which I named, was joined to the Little Gull
by a brook.

113 H

114 NEWFOUNDLAND

the scenery till an exclamation from Sandy, and the direction
of his gaze, caused us to turn our eyes towards a large open
marsh about half a mile below. There was a white-neck
stepping out proudly like Macgregor on his native heath.
He seemed to carry fine horns, so Saunders and I made
all haste to head him for a nearer inspection.

This was not quite so easy as it looked, for the stag
was walking down-wind very fast and had already a con-
siderable start. Moreover, a small forest rose about a
quarter of a mile in front of the deer, and for this he was
making to lie up for the day. We had to run, and run
fast, over the worst kind of bog, into which we frequently
sank to our middles ; but, on the other hand, the chase
lay downhill, and this was a distinct advantage to us.
When we came within 400 yards of the stag I saw him
looking about uneasily, so told Bob to sit and await my
return, and, making an effort, ran right past and headed
him. The sun was playing upon him, and I saw by his
alert carriage and quick movement that he was not quite
adult. His head, too, which looked fine from above, now
underwent a considerable reduction on closer inspection.
The brows and the bays were first class, but he carried
only a snag on the left brow and the tops were short and
undeveloped, so I let him pass by unmolested.

After this diversion we tramped for the whole day to
examine the country to the south. The farther we travelled
the worse the going became, till at last walking became a
considerable effort. It was some time, in fact, before we
could get back to the high and dry ground, from which
we could alternately spy and cook our dinner ; but nothing
more was seen, so we returned to camp feeling that a hard
day's work had been accomplished.

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 115

The next day, Friday, September 17, was rather an inter-
esting one, because I killed a fine stag through a seemingly
trivial piece of observation ; and to show that in caribou
hunting a man's ears are often as important as his eyes,
I will s^ive the circumstances.

It was an exquisite autumn morning, clear as crystal,
and not a breath of wind stirring; a few golden birch
leaves, early forerunners of coming decay, were floating
down the river, and up on the hillside you could hear the
jays whistling and talking to one another about the excel-
lent food supply they had discovered. The great white-
headed eagle passed overhead, coming from some of the
fish lakes of the interior, and a belated osprey (who must
have found fishing for his dinner in the shallows of the
Gander a laborious necessity) circled round the camp.
According to my usual custom, I started up stream soon
after daybreak, leaving the men to follow when the canoes
were packed.

Not one of the least important things in this form of
still-hunting is to sit down frequently and, with senses alert,
to interpret the manifold signs of nature— in fact, to sit and
listen. After going for a mile, I found on the north bank
the regular crossing-place of a big stag. Evidently, too, it
had used the same spot to traverse the river morning and
evening for the past two months, for the indentations showed
a curious physical defect in one of the right fore hoofs,
which was unusually elongated and bent inwards. That old
fellow had been across the river about an hour before my
advent. Thqre was discoloured water in his spoor, and close
alongside fresh droppings. So I sat down and listened.

The grey curtain of midges arose to float in a mazy dance
in the sun. The black flies, though losing their vicious-

116 NEWFOUNDLAND

ness, nevertheless attended to me personally ; a few scattered
ouananiche rose at the floating insects, and far away down
the stream I could see my "wet bobs" lugging, drawing,
and pushing their handy little craft against the swiftly-
flowing stream. It was delightful to sit and smoke, and
enjoy the charming dolce far niente laziness of basking in
the sun, and wondering whether the good people in Sussex
were still shivering under umbrellas and mackintoshes, as
they had been doing during May, June, July, and August
in the year of grace 1903. One or two of my friends had
even cast eyes of pity upon me for coming to those "dreadful
Arctic regions," as they fondly imagined Newfoundland to be.

And yet how different it was. How nice to lie on the
moss amidst the sun-warmed stones where thoughts were
singing rivers and the dews of morning shone, and to listen
for the bumping of the canoes round the bend.

But pleasurable thoughts and the contemplated enjoyment
of ten minutes of that masterpiece, " The Experiences of an
Irish R.M.," were abruptly terminated by the breaking of a
small stick two hundred yards away on the far bank. I
only just heard it, it was almost a sound striking one's inner
consciousness, yet when a man has hunted all kinds of birds
and beasts, as I have done for years, the mind is soon alive
to natural explanations and quick to read them. It might
have been caused by some small mammal, but except the
varying hare, an ermine, or a small vole, there are no small
beasts to speak of in the country. A bird would not
have done it, or the sound would be quickly repeated. So
I listened attentively. Yes, there it was again. This time
unmistakable — the gradual crushing break of some large
animal treading on dry wood.

The river was rather deep on the far side, so I had to

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 117

wait a quarter of an hour before Saunders came, and a ferry
over became possible. Then telling the men to wait and not
to make a sound, I climbed the bank, took off my boots,
and crept into the dense timber.

At the very spot from whence the sounds had proceeded
was the fresh track of old Curly Toe. He had trodden on
a piece of rotten pine, the evidence of which was designated
in scattered chips. I advanced as quickly as possible, fearful
almost of placing my feet on the ground, for the stag was
nearly certain to be within a hundred yards of me in that
" droke " of spruce and alder. The track was easy to follow,
and I made it out for three or four hundred yards going
hillwards. Then I made a cast back, and stumbled on the
home of the stag, scores of beds beaten hard and dry, with
piles of old and fresh manure all around. There was one
bed full of hairs that looked as if the stag had just sprung
from it, and had been scared, for several pebbles of wet
dung lay therein, often the sure sign of deer suddenly scared.
I was looking at this, stooping down, when my ear caught
the tinkle of stones being moved, followed by a subdued
splash. My men I knew were too well trained to create this
disturbance, so guessing its cause I rushed belter - skelter
through the opposing stems towards the river. As I burst
through the last alders I saw the stag looking about, very
frightened, and standing up to his knees in the river about
a hundred yards away. To fall into a sitting position was
the work of an instant — good tops and thick horns at once
decided that — and as the deer swung round to go I fired.
The bullet took him about five inches too far back. Then off
he went, full gallop, clattering up the shallows of the river,
and sending the spray flying in all directions. I had a better
shooting position than such a hurried seat usually offers, and

118 NEWFOUNDLAND

so when I let go the next two shots, I had the satisfaction
of seeing them both strike the flying deer. One went through
his side, and the last raked him from end to end ; so he
stopped, floundered forward in the river, and was dead by
the time I reached him. I looked upon the capture of this
fine head as the result of simple reasoning, though Saunders
regarded the affair in a somewhat more exaggerated fashion.
Had I not heard that first gentle crack, led up to by the
sight of those hoof-prints, old Curly Toe and his antlers
would probably still be dodging backwards and forwards
along the narrow leads of the Upper Gander.

This was without doubt the stag with the fine tops which
I had spied late in the evening two days previously, and he
must only just have returned to his lair when so rudely
disturbed. The horns were not large, but very massive, and
the head one of high quality, with thirty points.

At midday we decided to camp, as the country to the
north seemed fairly open and worth a visit. As the canoes
came to a halt, and we prepared to relieve them of their
contents, a large stag came out on to the river bank, and
stood surveying us within sixty yards. His horns were long
and with few points, which accounted for the lack of evil
intention on our part, so after a prolonged stare he swung
round and disappeared in the forest again. In the afternoon
a long tramp through a dense country resulted in nothing,
and we returned to camp just in time to see two fine stags
cross the river about a quarter of a mile below.

It was plain that real difficulties with the canoes had now
commenced. Nothing but basswood, and that of the finest
quality, would have withstood the bumping and hauling over
sharp rocks that these little boats had undergone. Both were
well " shaved," and the new one had swollen and burst

Diamond Cut Diamond

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 119

slightly at the bottom. With every care, they would not hold
out long unless the river offered some "steady" water, and
this it showed no signs of doing, but rather became shallower
at every mile. There was now no part in the whole stream
that would take a man above the knees, and the river was
not narrowing ; it was still about 1 20 yards wide, the same
as twenty miles below.

The autumn of 1902 had been an exceptionally dry
season, but that of 1903 was infinitely drier, and quite ruined
my original project, which was to reach a point beyond the
Partridgeberry Hills, portage our stuff across to Dog Lake
River, thence on to the Big Lake river system of Round, Brazil,
Long Lakes, down through Bale d'Est to Bale d'Espoir,
where I could have got a boat from the Indians to take me
to the weekly steamer which calls in Hermitage Bay, and
so eventually to St. John's. Only one man has yet accom-
plished this journey, and if we had had water above Burnt
Hill I think we should also have carried it out.

On the morning of i8th September, the men were in
constant difficulties ; one of the boats would catch on a sharp
upright rock or narrow stony bar, and had either to be
forcibly hauled over or some of the contents had to be taken
out, portaged a few yards, and then replaced. It was slow,
toilsome work for the men and disappointing, as I had now
little chance of reaching the Partridgeberry Hills. By mid-
day we had only accomplished three miles, having started
soon after daybreak, and the Great Gander, which looks so
important on the map at the inflow of the Little Gull River,
was nothing more than a broad flat bank of stones, with a
little water trickling through them. Little Gull River, where
we stopped to have dinner, joins the Gander sixty miles
from the lake and seventy-five from the sea. It is a much

120 NEWFOUNDLAND

more important river than its marking on the map would
indicate, for it brings down as much water as the main
branch of the Gander does from the west.

The afternoon was glorious, so I walked ahead about
two miles, and saw much fresh sign of big stags about the
river bank. Leads came from the north, and after joining
the river pointed due south in many places, and the whole
country seemed to indicate that we were in the heart of the
main trails. In one place they were particularly abundant,
the dry timber on the bank slopes being beaten to dust by
the tramp of many feet. I sat down here to enjoy the sun
and " A Double Thread," keeping the while a desultory look-
out, for it was as yet a bit too early for any of the old
fellows to be up and stirring. Still you never know when
a stag is going to appear, and they often do so at the most
unexpected moments.

The canoes had just reached me, and I rose to resume
the journey, when, looking up the river, I saw a stag walking
swiftly out of the stream on the far side, and looking about
for a path into the forest. It was hopeless to think of
approaching a yard nearer, and he was a good 250 yards
away. Instant decision was imperative, and as I could see
that his tops were good, I sat down against a stone and put
up my rifle just as he put his head into the forest. I fired,
and distinctly saw the splash of the bullet on a patch of sand
an inch above his back. He never winced, but his head
and shoulders were now in the forest, and in another second
he would disappear for ever. Taking the sight a trifle
lower, I pulled again, and he came staggering down the
bank, swayed for an instant or two, and plunged forwards
into the river, into which he fell quite dead.

The head was not large, but carried a great number of

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 121

small points, many of which were so doubtful that it was
difficult to say what their precise number was, although
thirty-eight fulfilled the old watch-guard test.

After working on up stream for about three miles, the
river suddenly became quite hopeless from the boatman's
point of view. It was nothing but a bed of stones, and the
men said they could proceed no farther without portaging.
One of the canoes was full of water, and would stand but
little more rough handling, so we decided to camp for the
night and explore ahead on foot. A nice dry camping-
ground was found on a steep hillside amongst a group of
pines, and here Bob and Sandy set to work to cut supports
for the lean-to, when, looking down the river, I saw a magni-
ficent stag crossing it about a quarter of a mile below. He
seemed to carry a fine set of horns, and marched up out of
the water looking the picture of proud defiance, whilst his
snowy neck and pendant ruffle shone like a star against the
dark green undergrowth of the forest. In a moment he
found his "lead" and disappeared, whilst I ran as hard as
I could to try and catch him in a follow-on chase.

In a few minutes I turned in at his well-beaten road,
took up his spoor through the pine belt and on out to some
semi-open country, composed of hard, dry, quartzy hills. Here
I lost it, and climbed a high larch, which led to no better
results, and so in the dark, feeling very footsore — for I had
no boots on, having taken them off as soon as we halted —
I made my way back to camp. Perhaps the supposition
was unwarranted, but only natural as the stag got away ;
yet for several evenings I cherished the idea that that stag
was unusually fine.

An exploration of the river for eight miles ahead dis-
closed the fact that we were on the edge of " Burnt " country,

122 NEWFOUNDLAND

which probably continued as far as the Partridgeberry Hills.
About twelve miles up stream, on the left bank, rose the
mountain marked in the map as Burnt Hill, seventy miles
from the lake and eighty-five from the sea. This marks the
farthest point reached by us, progress by means of the canoes
being now impossible. In a moderately wet season there
would be no difficulty in going much farther, but the drought
had effectually stopped us, and we could do nothing more
but pack ahead, which I had no wish to do. I only intended
to kill one more stag, and that I hoped to get near my
present camp. Evening came on, and I strolled up the river
to meet Bob, who had gone on ahead. After waiting some
time the shadows increased, and soon it would be too dark
to see a deer, so I rose and tramped home. Turning the
last corner I saw a stag crossing a shallow about 200 yards
above my camp, and Sandy standing up black and prominent
in front of the camp fire, lost in admiration. Having no wish
to slay my excellent helper, I waited till the deer had moved
half-way across the river, and I had time to thoroughly exa-
mine his head. It was a grand one, with splendid tops. The
stag was a good 300 yards away, and I dared not approach
nearer, as what wind there was blew straight down stream.
A long rock with a ridge afforded a comfortable place to lie
upon for the shot, and my coat a suitable rest, so raising
the rifle I found I could scarcely see the foresight. Putting
it under the deer which was now standing broadside, I raised
it slowly and pulled ; the bullet went over his back perhaps
an inch or two ; at the second shot the same thing happened,
and the stag moved fast for the far bank. As he walked I
fired again a little lower, this time with success. The ball
reached him, passed through his neck, and he simply lay
down in the river-bed without other movement.

Side View of Forty-four Point Head Shot ox the Upper Gander,

September 1903

0*i^'">

. . _^f

The Fokxy-mne Pointer as he Fell

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 123

The sight of this little episode was one of intense excite-
ment to Sandy, who had watched the whole scene from the
appearance of the stag opposite the camp. He had gazed
upon it at about 60 yards distance, was prepared to swear
to me on my return that he had seen the greatest stag that
ever breathed, and was just becoming heart-broken as it
walked away, when he saw me come round the bend of the
river, "put three guns at 'um, and take 'um down."

On the death of the stag the excitable Sandy was to be
seen rushing wildly out of the woods into the river, waving
in one hand his somewhat dilapidated hat and brandishing
in the other a huge knife, which followed every occupation,
from cutting trees to opening tin cans. Sandy took the
river with sportsmanlike enthusiasm, and was speedily at
work taking off the stag's head, haunches, and rump fat.

This stag carried the first exceptional head which I had
killed in Newfoundland. It was 42 inches long, and had
very heavy "tops," with long points. The brows were each
fully developed and of large size, and the whole head bore
forty-four clearly defined points — a very unusual number.
The only weak part was his bays or middle palms.

It was pitch dark when Sandy had finished his cold
task, and we sat long admiring the beautiful horns, com-
paring it with others, and waiting for Little Bob. That
individual turned up by-and-by, and, after a hearty supper
and the head was skinned, we turned in just as the rain
came down in torrents. During the night my faith in the
excellence of the Newfoundland lean-to received a rude
shock. The method of shelter with front open to the
blazing logs is certainly brighter, warmer, and more cheerful
than any tent, provided there is no heavy rain, and that the
wind does not shift. If such unfortunate things occur there

124 NEWFOUNDLAND

is nothing left but to get up in the middle of the night,
rebuild camp in a fresh place, get wet through, and try to
be as amiable as possible. On this occasion we were all too
tired or sleepy to move, so we lay awake and let the rain
come in upon us. My reindeer bag was soon soaked, so I
put on my ulster and spent a miserable night in the utter-
most corner of the cover sheet. The men also allowed
themselves to be soaked, but that being the chronic con-
dition of these human seals, they regarded the circumstances
without comment.

The morning broke still and fine as usual, and at very
early breakfast we had a pow-wow as to the best course to
pursue. I had shot six fine heads, and had no desire to kill
any more deer. The main object of my journey had been
accomplished, so I decided to return. This was not quite so
easy as it sounds, for in spite of last night's rain the river
had fallen a foot since we had come to this camp. Never-
theless the men said they thought we could get out if the
camp and canoes were portaged a mile down stream and
over the worst of the stone banks.

It took all day to get as far as Little Gull River, and
then when Little Bob appeared his face was long and aspect
gloomy.

" One of the boats is completely bust up and t'other's
cracked, and unless you shoot two more deer to lace the
worst one in we'll never get down unless we build a raft and
wait for the rain," he said.

" How far can you get the boats to-night ? " I said.

" Perhaps another mile," he said ; " but it's bale and
shove all the time, and killing work."

I had no intention of waiting a fortnight or three weeks
for rain and rafts, so decided to hunt about and kill two

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 125

more stags as soon as possible. Nor was opportunity long
deferred.

About half a mile below Little Gull River was an open
stretch of the stream. To the eye it now looked just like a
mass of pebbles, but the accession of the two rivers meeting
had helped the Gander a bit, and there was a narrow thread
of water about ten or twelve inches deep percolating through
the stones. I sat down on the bank watching for a stag to
appear down stream. There seemed little enough chance of
killing one, as the wind was blowing hard towards the only
likely part, and both evening and the rain were close at
hand. It was already late, and I was about to walk up
stream to see if any further accident had happened, when,
taking one final glance towards the east, I saw a stag in the
act of crossing the river about 800 yards away. He was
gingerly picking his way through the stones of the river, and
I could not understand how it was he did not get my wind.
It seemed to be blowing directly towards him, and yet, as I
afterwards found, must have been forced upwards after going
for a hundred yards or so.

Strange things happen in stalking, and the vagaries of
air are amongst the most curious. More than once I have
succeeded in getting within shot of an animal by hard
running and by simply relying on its being too confused to
make out the object of attack. No other course was open,
so I resolved to try it now. I ran as hard as I could,
keeping my eye all the time fixed on the stag so as to
know the exact moment he " had " me, and I should lie
down and open fire — 600, 500, 400, 300 yards — this was
incomprehensible. At this distance I plainly saw the ripples
of water going almost direct to the stag, which had now
landed on a point and was feeding away stern-on. The

126 NEWFOUNDLAND

river bank here bent inwards, and if I crossed in its "bay"
the stag nmst get my wind, so I resolved to lie down
and fire.

The stag was outlined against the water — always a good
mark for the shooter, for he sees at once whether he has
fired too low or too high. The bullet must have grazed his
back, for he sharply raised his noble head and stopped feeding,
whilst I saw the projectile flick up the stream in almost
a direct line. A little lower, bang ! The stag flinched,
turned round towards me, and hobbled a few paces up
stream. I now saw for the first time that he had a great
head, which is a bad thing for a man to know when he
greatly desires to slay a beast. I had broken his left hind
leg, high up, so having now the exact range I prepared to
give him another shot. At that moment he started, and, like
nearly all wounded animals, made up-wind as hard as his
three legs could carry him. Then it was that I thanked my
stars I had not tried to go nearer to him at the first chance,
for he came full tilt up the shore, almost towards me, and
up the " bay " of the stream to my left. By a fortunate
circumstance the river bank was here very steep, and though
he kept watching for an opening as he ran, I saw he would
come fairly close to me if I lay still, and so reserved my
fire. About a hundred yards away a broad opening appeared
in the bank, and here the grand fellow stopped, turned
slightly, and was about to spring upwards into the bush, when
I fired again, and he at once lay struggling on the stones
with a bullet through the upper part of the neck. His fine
horns were swaying from side to side as I ran up, and I
stood contemplating what is in some respects the best head
I have ever shot.

It is hardly necessary to say much about the head of an

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 127

animal whose portrait is given here, taken from various '
angles. It is enough to say that I had secured a perfect
head of forty-nine points, the brows in particular being extra-
ordinary. In his long experience Saunders said that he had
never seen a more perfect caribou head, and that it was
equal in quality to the head killed by Selous two years
previously ; although not quite so large in the beam as that
head, the brows and bays are considerably finer. It is not
often that a sportsman has secured two "great" heads in
one season, and so I was grateful for the necessity that had
compelled me to shoot this last stag. Had not the canoe
broken down he would certainly have been left alone.

The men took about two hours doing the last mile from
Little Gull River to where the fallen stag lay. It was
becoming dark and threatening to rain, so, having no
camera, I got out my sketch-book and made a rapid outline
of the fallen monarch as he lay. Before I had finished
heavy drops began to fall, so we made camp as quickly as
possible, and had just got the shelter spread and a blazing
birch fire started when the storm burst upon us.

The rain fell in torrents till midnight, when it suddenly
ceased. Such a downfall, though severe, made little differ-
ence to the river, as the whole country was so parched that
it would require two days of such rain to fill the burns and
marshes, and so affect the main stream. All the next day
(21st September) the men toiled down the river, and at dusk
reached the Serpentine Hill, where, on the hills above, I
had killed the two large stags. There was still about an
hour of daylight left, so I went up the hill on the chance
of finding a bear at the first carcase, immediately above our
old camp. In the dusk I crept slowly forward through the
bushes, and waited for some minutes to see if there was any

128 NEWFOUNDLAND

movement. But nothing stirred, so I advanced to find that
the remains of the first stag had been carried by bears about
twenty yards up the hill.

From a ridge about fifty yards up the hill I could see
the marsh and the remains of the other deer, about half a
mile below to the east. The telescope showed that the carcase
was untouched, and in the same position as that in which
we had left it. I sat some time after the sun had sunk,
and was just thinking of returning to camp when my eye
detected a black spot to the right of the marsh, away in the
valley below. The glass lay beside me, and as I raised it
the dark object, a large bear, suddenly moved and galloped
out into the open. At first I thought something must have
scared him — he lolloped along so steadily and with such
decision. Presently he took a turn, and I saw that he was
circling round the carcase of the dead stag, to see if any one
had been there recently. Twice he stopped, stood up on his
hind legs, and tried the wind. Then he again dropped on
the fore-paws and resumed his lumbering gait. The black
bear gallops in a most peculiar manner. He looks like some
ridiculous pantomime animal playing the buffoon. Nearly
all large creatures hold the head and neck out or up in
accelerated locomotion, but the black bear, which is the only
member of the genus I have seen actually gallop, puts his
head down and swings it clumsily from side to side as if he
were enjoying some huge joke. Presently Mr. Bruin stopped
and remained motionless for two or three minutes directly
down-wind from the carcase. I think he was enjoying the
delicious prospect of a hearty meal, and wondering whether
it would be safe to approach. Then just as I thought it
time to be making my approach, he set off" on another circuit
of inspection.

Forty-nine Point Head Shot near Little Gull River, September 1903

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 129

By the time I had passed the intervening woods, and had
begun to creep cautiously down a depression in the marsh,
the bear was still lumbering around about 400 yards away,
and far on the other side of the dead deer. My position
was clearly near enough to the carcase, for if the animal
chose to make another circuit of the prospective dinner,
he would doubdess come within easy shot. Accordingly I
sat down behind a small larch and waited. At the same
moment the bear approached his dinner, walking slowly and
with evident apprehension. He was clearly of much cunning,
or had at some time or another been greatly scared. I felt
certain of an easy shot, however, and had settled myself
in a good shooting position, when he suddenly stopped at
about 200 yards distant, whipped round, and made off
again as hard as his legs would carry him. There was a
moment of doubt, and I did the wrong thing, which was
to fire as he galloped away. A single moment of reflection
would have tolH me that his fright was only simulated, and
that he was only going for another final gallop, but I stupidly
thought he was off for good, and so pressed the trigger and
missed. He dashed round a small clump of trees, and then
I saw him going over the marsh at his best pace for half a
mile until he entered the northern woods and disappeared.
It is easy to be wise after the event, but I shall know better
next time.

September 22. — All day down through the worst kind
of rocks. Till now the men have been pulling, hauling,
and buffeting with the stoniest stream for a fortnight, with
only one day's rest, and I had heard no complaints, but now,
just before we reached Migwell's Brook, I found Bob, who
had been long delayed, standing over his charge, sunk to

130 NEWFOUNDLAND

the bottom of a small hole in the river, and smiling sadly
as he waved the frying-pan in his hand.

"Guess this yer old thing (indicating his extempore baler)
ain't much more use! 'less I bale out de whole stream, and
that ain't surprisin' difficult now," he added, contemplating
the shoal of rocks.

" Well," I suggested, " let us pack the stuff down to
Migwell's Brook, and we will try and do a mend with the
stag's skin and a biscuit tin." It was dusk as we reached
our destination. Moving the water-logged goods and heads
was no light task, but it was finished just as the sun set.

On our way up stream we had left the dried fat of two
stags hanging on a tree at the Migwell's Brook camp. I
had also placed out of reach a wooden box containing lOO
Eley's brass shot cartridges. Knowing that bears were
common round here, we thought that these things would be
safe from their attentions, but such was not the case. The
first thing that met our gaze was the broken cartridge box
lying on the ground, and its contents scattered all over the
camp. About twenty of the cartridges had actually been
chewed and half-eaten by the bears, doubtless for the ex-
traction of the grease-laden wads covering the powder, and
the marks of their teeth were plainly indented on the outer
coverings (see photograph). It was a curious diet in truth,
for brass cartridges are not mentioned amongst the food of
these omnivorous beasts. The results miorht have been even
more interesting had our visitors bitten into the " cap " ends
of the cartridges.

During the evening Saunders and I " tailed " a gun and
a Mannlicher for the bears, but without result.

Next morning we spent in mending up the broken canoes.
A Huntley and Palmer biscuit tin was flattened out and nailed

HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 131

over the break, into which, after removing the flooring, we
poured about a pound of melted deer's fat. Saunders said
that we could not utilise the skin until we had another, as the
two must be laced together, and one was of no use. Accord-
ingly I set out about midday, and made about four miles, when
I reached the spot where I had missed the stag coming up
the river. The view on either side was wide, and two well-
used crossing places led across the stream within easy running
distance. The afternoon passed away, and nothing appeared,
not even the canoes, for on this day the rocks broke the
strongest of the two boats and caused endless delays ; so I
took a book out of my pocket and was soon lost with Rider
Haggard in the heart of Africa. In a country so peaceful,
so still as the land of the northern forests, one is quick to
recognise the slightest noise. That remarkable woman "She"
was about to drink again the fires of eternal life, and her
speech at this exciting moment simply grips the reader, for
it is the best thing in a remarkable work. Yet it was in
no spirit of disappointment that I dropped the book softly
on the stones at my side — for had I not heard some pebbles
roll down the bank on the far side of the river ? I looked
up, and there was a large brown doe coming down to drink.
For a female she carried remarkable horns, about as large
as the specimen I had killed in the previous year, and with
thirteen good points. She entered the stream exactly oppo-
site to the rock beside which I was seated, and, after drinking,
marched slowly across the river towards me. It was a good
opportunity for the camera. The sun was upon her, and
I knew she would cross close to me, but the camera was
far away at Glenwood. I lay under the shadow of the rock,
and she came right on to within six yards, looking inquisi-
tively at me as I crouched there with my arm in front of my

132 NEWFOUNDLAND

face. Then she took a pace or two up stream, shook her
head, ran a couple of yards, pretending to be frightened, and
then seeing the fearsome object did not move, came back
and smelt her way forwards. She was within three yards
now, but working two yards to the right down stream, at
once got the wind, and went off, sending the water flying in
all directions. In two minutes she was out of sight, and I
could hear her breaking through the forest up to the hills.

In another minute I resumed my book, and had hardly
done so, when the sound of dropping water caused me to
turn my head sharply and look up stream. There stood
a very large stag, in the act of drinking, about lOO
yards away. The sudden movement of turning to grasp
my rifle did not escape his eye, and at once he was in a
position of tense alertness. Slowly I put the bead on his
heart and pressed the trigger. He scarcely winced, but,
jumping out on to the stones, dashed away at full gallop. I
was about to fire again, when it occurred to me that my shot
was a fatal one, because he was going just a bit too fast
for an unwounded beast. This conjecture was strengthened
when I saw him shaking his head, a sure sign of a fatal
blow. The next instant he wheeled round suddenly towards
the river, and running along a ledge of rocks, bounded into
the air, and fell dead in the stream.

So rapid was his descent into the river and blind the
final plunge, that he broke his shovel, knocking off five points,
as well as smashing his skull and lower jaw. A noble fellow
with a massive head, but without many points. When the
men came, we took his entire skin and head, and as much
meat as we could carry, and made camp.

This ended our hunting for the year, and perhaps the
most successful shooting trip I have engaged in. It took

RETURN TO GLENWOOD 133

four days more before we reached the mouth of the Gander ;
but after passing the waterfalls the difficulties with the canoes
ceased, for we reached water sufficiently deep to run the
boats and their loads with care and safety. On the evening
of the 27th a happy circumstance seemed to have brought the
steamer to the mouth of the river, for she had not been there
since she had brought us, so we got aboard, and next morning
reached Glenwood and the railway line. Here I recovered
my camera, and took a few photos of the heads, paid off Bob
and Sandy, who had well earned their wages and a bit more.
Better men to go anywhere, and turn their hands to anything,
I have not found. Both had worked with untiring patience in
cold water for twenty days, and would have been quite keen
to " pack " on for another twenty had I wished them to do so.

The food provided by the Glenwood HoteP was so bad
that, after spending an unhappy hour there wrestling with some
flaccid liquor named by courtesy tea, and a piece of chewed
string, which at some remote period might have been a rabbit,
I returned to my camp and had a simple yet clean dinner.

Travellers at some of these remote hostelries have only
one idea in the world, and that is to get away from them
as quickly as possible. An untruthful but humorous story
tells of an unfortunate "drummer" — and "drummers" can
stand most things — who, after partaking of two meals,
decided to end his life. He lay down on the metals a
minute or two before the express was due. After waiting
for two days and catching a severe cold, he was reluctantly
compelled to give up the idea of suicide, and is now instituting
a claim for compensation against the railway company for
the unpunctuality of their trains.

' I am speaking of the Glenwood Hotel of 1903. It has, I believe, twice
changed hands since then.

134 NEWFOUNDLAND

Once upon a time there was a monarch whose kingdom
was torn by dissensions, and, wishing for popularity, he offered
as a reward to the guesser of a certain riddle half of his
kingdom, and the hand of his lovely daughter. Of course
there was no answer to the riddle, although the cunning
monarch kept his people in a state of pleasurable excitement
and peace from internal strife for the space of a few years,
and so tided over a difficulty. In similar fashion the good
folk of Newfoundland are apt to ask each other another
conundrum which is also unanswerable, namely, "Why is
the ' accommodation train ' so-called, and whom does it accom-
modate ? " At present the genius who can give a satis-
factory answer has not been discovered. The people of
the island regard the " accommodation train " with dread ;
strangers suffering a single journey resolve never to repeat
the experiment. But the "accommodation train " must accom-
modate somebody — perhaps it is the Old Gentleman himself!
Every second day that passes, Satan must bless the island's
government for running such a show entirely for his benefit.
Could the walls of those " First Class " carriages speak, what
a tale of wicked thoughts and wickeder language they could
tell, and how oft had the nature of the most gentle of men
been turned to acid and gall through the bitter experience
of a night's travel !

One evening, in 1902, little Mike, Saunders, Wells, a
couple of station men, and myself were seated round a
blazing fire near the line at Terra-Nova. We were waiting
for the "accommodation train," which was only six hours late.
The conversation turned on wild beasts, as it always does
where two or three are gathered together in the backwoods.

" I seen a bear once here, close to the station," began
little Mike. We listened with hushed expectancy to the

SXAGlNCiS 0.\ I HE CLIFK

A Typical Village of the Outports

RETURN TO GLENWOOD 135

eleven-year-old stationmaster's coming story, for he had an
interesting way of putting things.

" He warn't walking away either, but come straight
towards me."

"Weren't you frightened, Mike.''" suggested some one.

"Sure," replied the little man; "but I stopped right
still, and as I hadn't no gun I jes' said somethin' that I
knew 'ud scare him proper."

" What did ye say, Mike ? "

" Well, I ses quite quiet like, ' Go way, you black devil,
or I'll send you to St. John's by the accommodation train,'
and you should ha' seen him scoot." And Mike looked
sadly upon me as a prospective sufferer.

We were due to leave Glenwood at 7 p.m., and punctually
at five minutes past i a.m. the train, with its long string of
baggage cars, steamed slowly into the station. Far away,
and out in the darkness, overhanging a pool of water, was
the passenger coach, on which was painted the curious legend
"First Class." The train was designated as "mixed," not
out of compliment to the passengers, but to individualise its
component parts. It is really a baggage train, with a coach
sandwiched between the trucks, so that the passengers may
experience the full joys of shunting, which takes place at
every heap of lumber piled beside the track between Bay
of Islands and St. John's, a distance of five hundred miles.
This journey is variously performed in two days, or, with
the help of a snowstorm or a spring wash-out, in a week.

I opened the door of the "First Class" carriage, and
was at once greeted with a terrible atmosphere. There were
eight hard benches, capable of holding two passengers on
each, and occupied by twelve men, four women, and three
children. Of course there was no seat to be had, so I sat

136 NEWFOUNDLAND

on a biscuit box and allowed the door to stand open a
minute although it was freezing slightly. Soon a man from
outside came and shut it. Then I opened it again, and
then a passenger shivered, shook himself, got up and shut
it. This went on for some time until there really was a
little fresh air in the car, and I tried to get to sleep sitting
on my biscuit tin. We remained four hours at Glenwood
killing time and doing nothing in particular, then we were
all thrown endways by the engine coupling on. All the
men in the carriage woke up and swore. Then another
fearful jolt, which put out the light and sent me into the
arms of a perfectly innocent old lady, and off we went.
These fearful shocks are caused by the engine's playful way
of coupling on ; this is effected apparently by adhesion, and
it has to make a run at the train to make sure of sticking.
This happened whenever the engine was required to detach
for wood, coal, or water, or the driver went to gossip with
the section man or the stationmaster.

After swinging, creaking, and swaying round the marvellous
curves of the line I became sleepy, and so spread two weekly
editions of the Times on the floor of the carriage, placed my
ulster above these, and, lying flat out, had a very nice nap
for several hours. When I woke up it was broad daylight,
and somehow I imagined we had got on splendidly and were
nearly at Port Blandford. I said as much to a pleasant-
looking man sitting close to me, and the humour of the
remark, quite unintentional, was received with roars of laughter
by all the other men in the carriage.

"Why, we're nowhere near Gambo yet," replied my
neighbour. (Gambo is about thirty-six miles from Glenwood.)

Quite as tiresome a feature as the train itself was the
fact that it is well nigh impossible to get any provisions en

RETURN TO GLENWOOD 137

route. Except at Whitburn (eight or nine hours out of St.
John's), where it is possible to obtain a slice of corned beef
and a cup of tea — that is, if the train will wait for you —
there is no other halting-place where food can be obtained.
My friends in the train had telegraphed on to Gambo to
have breakfast ready at the hotel {^sic). When we got there
the "lady" in charge said she did not make breakfasts for
travellers, but that they could have " a glass of whisky " apiece
at an exorbitant price. At Gambo I managed to steal two
pints of hot water out of a section man's house which I
invaded, and so got enough to give the tired-looking women
and children some tea. I also had a small supply of biscuits
and cooked carabou meat, and this was all most of these
unfortunate passengers had in thirty-six hours' travel. Near
Terra-Nova we stopped an hour or two, and Dr. M'Pherson,
myself, and the two St. John's boys turned out and helped
to load lumber from the side of the track ; we thought it
would save time and assist us towards a decent breakfast
at Port Blandford. When we reached that small village
the passengers made a rush for the " hotel." " Breakfast,"
said the proprietor ; " oh no, we received no telegram from
Gambo, and we can do nothing for you in such a short
time." The crowd then swooped down on a place that
called itself a shop, and here met with better luck.

If the "accommodation train" and its attendant dis-
comforts are a disagreeable experience, I must confess, in
justice to the line, that the passenger need not take it unless
he is obliged to do so. The regular passenger train, which
runs every second day, is just as comfortable as any train
in the Colonies. There are good sleeping -berths, and
excellent meals are served on board.

CHAPTER VII

A VISIT TO THE OUTPORTS OF THE SOUTH COAST

When I first visited Newfoundland, it was with the light
heart of one who goes out to spend a short holiday in a new
land, and to gain a few hunting trophies for his collection.
Newfoundland, I thought, might prove worth a visit, and, like
many another country, that one visit would be sufficient. But
this was not the case. However, instead of a well-known
and easily reached hunting-ground of only passing interest, I
had found after my second trip a half-explored and altogether
delightful country teeming with game ; such a land, in fact,
as men who love the woods speak of with respect, and which
is, alas, generally mentioned with regret as belonging to the
days that have gone by. I had found a way into the interior
where other men had not attempted to go ; and to me Central
Newfoundland represented one great deer forest, over the
greater part of which I could wander at will without the
chance of seeing a human soul. To the general reader this
may seem a selfish pleasure. To a certain extent I must
admit it is, but on the other hand every big-game hunter of
to-day is searching for such a land of promise, and can
scarcely find it without travelling far.

It is one of the greatest truisms that when a fisherman
has caught a twenty-pound salmon he can never rest until he
has achieved the distinction of landing one of forty pounds ;
and when this notable achievement is reached, visions of fifty-
pounders will ever afterwards float before his eyes. So, too,
the caribou hunter cannot tamely sit down and gaze with

138

Fresh Cod

Drying Fish

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 139

satisfaction on the noble forty-pointer that adorns his walls
when he knows that somewhere up in the sheltered "leads"
of the Gander there are one or two fifty-pointers cleaning
their horns. It is just the weird imaginings which poor
human nature invents and sets us up some fetish that causes
us to strive after the seemingly unattainable. Still it
prompts us to pack up and go, and we obey.

On the other hand, my desire to revisit Newfoundland
was not altogether connected with the acquisition of the fifty-
pointer. A great part of the interior was, and is still, un-
mapped and unexplored, and I thought that I might add a
little to our knowledge of this, the oldest of our Colonies, by
surveying some new ground, as well as adding to that which
had been so well mapped by Mr. Howley and Alexander
Murray. There was work to be done, and this lent an
additional charm to the pleasures of Nature and Sport. There
was too, in the back of my mind, a feeling that on the last
visit I had not accomplished all I had set out to do. I had
intended to cross Newfoundland if possible, and had stuck in
the middle, partly on account of the drought, and partly on
account of the number of heads which had fallen to my rifle.
The latter would have been impossible to transport to the Bale
d'Est River, so I had given up the attempt for the year.

Before starting a fresh expedition into the interior, how-
ever, there was other work to do. For five years I had
been grinding away at a large work on " The Mammals of
Great Britain and Ireland." It was a book which seemed at
the time almost beyond my strength, owing to the quantity
of material in the way of first-hand knowledge and illustra-
tion which I had to supply, to say nothing of the outdoor
work and the books I had to consult. It was necessary to
see, study, hunt, and draw all the British species, including

140 NEWFOUNDLAND

the whales, and this involved such constant work and travel
that I feared a break-down under the strain. One mammal,
the blue whale, it was absolutely necessary to examine in
the flesh, and this, owing to its comparative scarcity in British
waters, I hoped to find on the Newfoundland coasts. Accord-
ingly I set out, at the end of July 1905, with the intention
of spending a month in quest of this, the greatest of all
living creatures.

On arrival at St. John's I learned that all whales were
very scarce, and that only one blue whale had been killed in
Newfoundland waters during the past month. This did not
look well for success, as the blue whales, after leaving the
south coast in June, generally work out to the Grand Banks
in their pursuit of the red shrimps, and do not return until the
late autumn. The difficulty in selecting a station, therefore,
was considerable, whilst all the owners of the various factories
admitted the impossibility of selecting a base where success
was certain.

Eventually I chose the St Lawrence Factory, near the
point of Placentia and Fortune Bay, as this seemed to
be well placed for distant sea trips. Moreover, I should
have at this point the society and advice of Dr. Rismuller,
the American-German savant, who has done more than any
living man for the whaling industry. On applying to Mr.
John Harvey for permission to stay at St. Lawrence, I was
received with great kindness, and given every facility to study
my subject. The owners of other factories, such as Mr.
Edgar Bowring, Mr. Macdougall, and the Job brothers all
extended such cordial invitations that I was sorry there was
not sufficient time to visit their stations. St. John's people
are nothing if not hospitable, and on this, as on other
occasions, I was given every information by the Ministry

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 141

of Fisheries and Marine, and personal friends such as Mr.
E. C. Watson^ and Judge Prowse.

Five hours' journey on the southern branch of the New-
foundland Railway takes the traveller to the summit of the
southern chain of mountains, and then you drop down to a
great sea lagoon surrounded by broken hills which end in
a sea beach, and the quaint old-world village of Placentia.
The journey is comparatively safe, and if you know nothing
about the railway or the state of the track, you can enjoy
the beautiful scenery as you pass along the wooded cliffs —

" Where the sea through all the mountains stretches up long arms between.
Flashing, sweeping, with swift current, like a river rushing on.
Till the tide turns, and the current, turning too, is seaward drawn,
Skirting mountain brow and valley, changing still, yet still the same,
Opening up unnumbered vistas, fairer far than lands of fame,
Scenes to make an artist famous, to the world as yet unknown.
Lovelier than that Lakeland region sung by poets of its own,
Nestling in its sea-girt valley, 'midst its mountains forest clad,
Lies Placentia rich in story, that might make an author glad."

Placentia is one of the most charming spots in New-
foundland. The town itself is not attractive, as it lies scattered
on a stony beach thrown up by the sea, and kept in place on
one side by the Atlantic, and on the other by the swift currents
of the north-east and south-east arms. The situation of the place
and its surroundings are, however, delightful. To the north
it is flanked by the summits of Casde Hill, where the cannon
used to stand, and to the south there rise the wooded hills
of the Strouter and Mount Pleasant. I have spent hours
sitting on the beach watching the ospreys hawking and
dashing down on the sea trout as they come in on the rising
tide, and enjoying the play of light on hill and sea. At one

* Since these lines were written St. John's has to lament the death of Mr. Watson.-
A more charming gentleman or one more interested in his work as Secretary of the
Fishery Board it will be impossible to find.

142 NEWFOUNDLAND

time Placentia was an opulent centre of the Grand Bank
fishery, but it is now more or less neglected. Why, it is
difficult to understand, because its great beach is more suit-
able for the drying of cod than any place in the island. The
sea-trout fishing in the neighbourhood is excellent, and if
protected it would be of great value to the residents. At
Placentia live Mr. Albert and John Bradshaw. The former
will show you the service of plate presented by King
William IV., who visited this place during his travels, and
a delightful collection of Indian and Esquimaux relics which
he has gathered from the Labrador and Northern New-
foundland. He kindly presented me with a caribou charm
of the Beothick Indians, which was supposed to carry good
luck in hunting.

At Placentia I found the Glencoe, which performs
weekly journeys along the south coast, and here too, lying
like a veil, was the Newfoundland fog in all its density. In
the evening we started westwards, and, leaving the land of
sunshine, were at once lost in the gloom.

To find the various ports we had to enter was no easy
task, but Captain Drake seemed to know his way blindfold.
The steamer went full speed right ahead into Burin, and the
captain took the most surprising liberties with his boat.
Navigation was principally accomplished by the use of the
steam-whistle, which kept blowing all the time, and by its
use the old mariner could tell where he was by the echo on
the surrounding hills. He bears the reputation of being the
most accomplished fog captain in existence, and the skill
with which he steered past anchored " bankers " and hidden
rocks was amazing, even if appearing somewhat risky. The
pace, about twelve knots, never slackened, and at 6 a.m. we
entered the harbour of St. Lawrence, when the land greeted

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 143

us once again. Here the fog was exceptionally dense. If
there is no wind, or the wind is from the south, the coast
is under its pail for months together in the summer, so the
traveller must have a large stock of patience and a volatile
temperament to withstand the constant rain and mist which
obscure all things.

The entrance to St. Lawrence is dominated bv a noble

headland known locally as " Shaperu," one of those queer
names which the traveller in Newfoundland constantly
encounters, and for which he finds it difficult to obtain a
derivation. The origin of nearly all these queer appellations
are Norman-French, which has been vulgarised and perverted
to suit local taste. To give a few instances. There is a
beautiful little port in Placentia Bay which was called by the
old Norman sailors Tasse cT Argent (The Silver Cup). This
the natives transmogrified into Tortello John, and it is now
called Tortello. Cinq Isles is made into Saint Kells ; Bale
de [Argent into Bay de John ; Chapeau Rouge into Shaperu ;
Baie Fachezcx into Foushy ; Baie d'Espoir into Bay Despair ;
whilst many other instances could be given. This habit of
doggerelising names has become a passion with the New-
foundlanders, and if a name is difficult, they make a short
cut and apply the title of anything that sounds nearest to it.
A poor woman brought her child to be christened by the
Rev. Christopher Meek. On asking the name of the child,
the mother replied that it was to be "Hyena." "Why, my
good woman," said the parson, " I could not give the name
of a wild animal to this lovely child. There must be some
mistake." "Well," answered the mother, "my good man
before he went up the Bay cuttin' wood, telled me it were to be
' Hyena ' and nothing else." Soon afterwards the clergyman
met the father, who said, "Well, parson, that were a curious

144 NEWFOUNDLAND

mistake between you and my missis about the baby. It
were Joseph Hyena (Josephina) I told her to name the child."

Great St. Lawrence is a typical village of the outports.
Imagine a little fiord surrounded by green hills covered with
grass, tea-bush, pink calmia {Kalmia Glattca), blueberry, and
stunted spruce and pine, amongst which the stone and granite
outcrops. There are no trees of any size, because these have
long since been cut for fuel, or blown down by the winter
storms. Above high-water mark stands the village of wooden
houses, many of them built on trestles after the Norwegian
fashion. Some of these small crofts have a little hayfield
surrounded by wooden palings, in a corner of which stands
the cow-byre, whilst all possess on the sea front large staging
and store-houses for the drying and curing of cod. The
houses are roofed with wooden slates ; they are of two stories
and possess a loft. The best ones have little gardens, in
which grow potatoes and cabbages, or, if the owner is suffi-
ciently well to do, flowers. In August these gardens are
quite gay, and I noticed quantities of meadow-sweet, fox-
gloves, sweet-williams, pseonies, pinks, violas, Aaron's rod
and golden rod, monthly roses, and the common wild rose
of the country. Neglected as a weed, and most beautiful
of all, were great clumps of the blue monkshood, locally
known as "Queen's fettle." In the wild marshes there was
a great variety of berries and alpine plants, the most notice-
able at this season being the pitcher plant, and a small and
lovely snow-white orchis. Michaelmas daisies and golden
rod give masses of yellow in the inland woods, whilst on
all the roadsides grow pink and white spiraeas.

On dull and foggy days no one in St. Lawrence seemed
to have any work to do. Men could not go to sea, and
women could not dry fish. All is silent and depressed.

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 145

but when the sun comes out everything changes to life and
movement. Dogs bark, children call at their play, and those
at work on the "flakes" chat cheerfully together. In the
still waters of the harbour the common terns {SUrna /itrundo),
like little sea-fairies, hover and descend upon their prey the
sand-eels ; American herring gulls (Larus argentatus Smith-
sonianus) sail aloft, whilst the common sandpipers and two
species of tringa flit and call upon the beaches. The dogs,
which seem to be well nigh amphibious, rush barking through
the pools, and at low water search the shores for discarded
cod-heads.

The best dogs are of the "Labrador" type. In winter
they are used for hauling logs — one dog will haul 2 or
3 cwt. Seldom more than two are used together. The
pure Newfoundland dogs are curly, and are a little higher on
the leg than are the Labradors.

Everything eats cod in Newfoundland, even the cows.
These cattle have the appearance of coming badly through
the winter, and making up for it in summer with indifferent
success. Their existence is one long struggle with the forces
of nature, and in the battle of life they get the worst of it.
Their lives are one long disappointment in the commissariat
line. Just as the grass is getting sweet, it is denied them
by means of wooden fences, so they do the best they can by
nibbling various shrubs and by repairing to the beach at
low water, where they eat seaweed, dulse, and the remains
of cod. They are also very partial to whale flesh. The
sheep are poor and thin, though why this should be so is
difficult to understand, as there is abundant food for them in
summer. I bought a good-sized lamb one day, and thought
I had got a bargain at a dollar (4s. 6d.), but when two
members of the whaling crew and I had finished the entire

146 NEWFOUNDLAND

animal for breakfast one morning, its value seemed to be
about three shillings, and dear at that.

Nothing has struck me so forcibly in Newfoundland as
the miserable quality of their sheep, and the fact that a
considerable part of the fertile coast-line would be made an
excellent land for sheep-raising if the right kinds were intro-
duced. It has been my lot to wander much in the barren
northern lands of Iceland, Norway, the Hebrides, Shetland
and Orkney, and in these wind-swept places I have seen
flocks of different varieties of sheep in a flourishing condition
— in spots, too, far more unsuitable in every way than the
south and west coasts of Newfoundland. In most cases the
farmers of these inhospitable wilds depend almost entirely
on their sheep, and could not live without them. What is
to be seen in Newfoundland ? Only here and there, in widely
separated places, one finds a few miserable sheep of some
German extraction, carrying such a poor quality of wool
and flesh as hardly to be worth the raising. Now, what is
wanted is that the Government should take the matter in
hand — for the Newfoundlanders themselves are much too
apathetic and ignorant about such matters — and import a
few flocks of the following sheep : —

The Highland ram of Scotland, which carries a mag-
nificent coat of wool capable of withstanding the severest
winter provided the snow is not too deep ; Welsh sheep,
Hebridean sheep, Shetland sheep, Icelandic sheep. All these
varieties are extremely hardy, and would, I am sure, do well
in the comparatively sheltered bays of the south and west coast.

One of the first things that would have to be done would
be the shooting of ownerless dogs, and stringent laws would
have to be enacted that the owners of dogs must keep their
dogs in check and under proper supervision. A man who

Newfoundland Dogs of the Present Day

The Fowls are Furnished with curious Attachments to Prevent
THEM FROM Entering the Gardens

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 147

allows his dog to stray should be heavily fined. At present
these half-wild "Labrador" dogs roam the country in spring
and autumn, searching for anything they can kill. Once a
dog has killed a sheep, it is very cunning, and will not
murder in its own neighbourhood, but travels far afield to
commit regular depredations.

Chickens are small and of a "speckelty" order. Some
of them go about with curious attachments — a bar of wood
tied across the top of the wings ; this is done to prevent
them getting into the gardens. Others are hobbled as an
additional precaution.

On fine days a few butterflies are to be seen flitting
about, but Newfoundland is not a good field for the ento-
mologist. I noticed as common, the following species : —
Cabbage white, red admiral, painted lady, and a large brown
fritillary, which is very abundant on the rivers and wood-
land roads. Once I saw a small blue, and three times the
lovely Camberwell Beauty.

The people are amiable and polite. It is a rare thing
to pass a man or woman who does not wish you good day,
and the children, too, are equally well-mannered. They are
kind, sociable, and by no means reserved. The people of
the outports make friends at once.

There was a sweet-looking old couple at Petty Fort, who,

on my wishing to photograph them, said, "Yes, please.

Mister, if it don't cost no more than a dollar." Then the

old sweethearts took each other's hands in. such a natural

old-fashioned way to pose for the picture that I could not

help thinking of the lines —

" Now we maun toddle doon the hill,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo."

148 NEWFOUNDLAND

I met a fisherman one day at the same place, and he
plunged into his wants at once, for of all things that young
Newfoundland loves, it is a dance.

"Say, Mister," he said, "wouldn't you like a spree
to-night ? "

I remarked that I was not hunting for sprees just at
that moment, but whales.

" But do just, there's a good man. Go up to the priest
and ask the loan of the schoolhouse. You're a stranger,
and he'll give it to you at once, though he wouldn't for me.
I've got some whisky, and all the girls will come as soon as
they know you've got the schoolhouse."

The offer was certainly enticing from his point of view,
but as we might sail at any moment when the wind went
down, I was forced to decline his hospitable suggestion. Most
of the people stop and speak to you, and all ask if you are
buying fish, and what is the price of cod in St. John's.

The women work on the drying stages as well as the
men, laying out the fish whenever the sun shines, and piling
into heaps under layers of bark whenever it threatens to
rain. They all talk a good deal about their poverty, but
personally I could hear of little genuine distress in this part
of the island. One day two little boys, plump and well fed,
but dressed in rags, stopped me and demanded cents. On
asking them why they begged, and if it was for money to
buy sweets, one of them said that they had had nothing to
eat that day.

" What is your father ? " I asked.

" We ain't got no father," the eldest replied, looking
down. " He's got drowned."

" And your mother .'' "

"She can't do nothing; she's sick wi' the chills."

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 149

" Why don't you fish in the harbour?" I suggested; "it's
full of flat fish."

This idea seemed new to them, and to present certain
possibilities as yet undreamed of, and, after further conversa-
tion in which I found that their poverty was genuine, I was
glad to give them some help.

It may seem extraordinary, but here was a bay simply
crawling with beautiful flounders, but not a soul dreamt of
catching and cooking them for their own use. Those who
know best the outport Newfoundlander are aware of his con-
servatism and pig-headed objection to all innovations. Their
fathers never ate flat fish, so why should they ? They would
rather starve than do such a thing. I asked a fisherman
one day what his objection to them was, and he said,
" People say they're poisonous."

I assured him to the contrary, and asked him if he
had ever tried one, and he answered, "Yes, once, out of
curiosity."

There are many other excellent fish, which they neither
eat fresh nor cured, such as herring, wrasse (conors), skate,
ling, hake, and halibut.

Like all seafaring people, the Newfoundlanders are
exceedingly childlike and superstitious. Their fathers fished
cod before them, and they do the same for four months in
the year, often doing absolutely nothing for the other eight
months, except to set a few traps for lobsters. If the
Government offers them wages for making a road through
the country they work splendidly — for one day — and then
sit down contentedly and expect to declare a permanent
dividend.

On the whole the men look strong, but the women are
generally pinched and narrow-chested. Consumption is rife.

150 NEWFOUNDLAND

and in no way lessened by the dirty practice of expectora-
tion, so that if one member of a family acquires the dread
disease it rapidly spreads, as the germs are fostered by hot
rooms and damp weather. The purity of the air of New-
foundland is without doubt due to the fact that the people
of the outports never open their windows.

Taking all things into consideration, the lot of the New-
foundlander who cares to work a little is an exceedingly
happy one. He makes little or no money, but Nature offers
him her gifts with no ungenerous hand. It is quite easy to
go into the country in November and December and kill
three deer. This can be done in a few days, the carcases
being hauled out by dog or ox sledge. A supply of fresh
meat is thus assured for the winter months.

When spring comes on and the ice breaks up,^ large
numbers of the more able-bodied take to the woods for the
purpose of cutting logs. In many cases they work on their
own account in the virgin forest, cutting in such sections as
have not already been claimed by lumber companies, and
hauling or floating their logs to the saw-mills, where they
sell them, wages averaging from one to two dollars a day.
The majority, however, take employment with some of the
larger or smaller timber owners, and they prefer this method,
as they are housed and fed at the expense of the owners.
A good " riverside " boss — that is, the man who keeps the
others at work and superintends the movement of the logs
on the rivers — will earn as much as three dollars a day.
During the summer the men fish, mostly in " bankers," off
the coast or away north along the Labrador, whilst the

' Few of these south coast men go to the seal-fishing in spring. They are too
independent, and are not forced to board the seal vessels as the men of the east
coast are.

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 151

women attend to the home croft, and the planting and care
of the land. In August most of the fishermen return and
reap the hay or rough corn, which is only used as cattle
food. On the east and west coast, in September, if the men
are acquainted with the interior of the neighbourhood of their
homes, they are often employed as "guides" for caribou
hunting ; at this they can earn from one to two dollars a
day, sometimes even getting parties in October for the
second season. No shooting parties — that is, sportsmen —
enter Newfoundland from the south coast or northern penin-
sula, so this does not apply to them.

Thus we see that on the whole the Newfoundlanders,
except the poor of St. John's and the islanders of the east
coast, are exceedingly well off in the literal sense of the
word, and would be in clover were it not for the over-
powering taxes, for which they get absolutely nothing in
return.

Cod-fishing being the principal industry of Newfound-
land, it may be as well to briefly survey the various
methods of taking this fish.^ The men of the outports begin
to fish about the ist of May, for it is at this season that the
cod move in from the ocean. The usual method is to fish
from "bankers," small ocean-going schooners, carrying little
boats with trawls. A "trawl" is not such as we understand
it in England, but five dozen cod-lines, each 30 fathoms
long, and baited in spring with herring. This method goes
on till about the 15th of June. Then a large number of
men desert the "bankers" and employ "cod-traps," seine-

' Cod rarely exceed 60 lbs. in weight, but there are authentic records of
fish of 90 lbs. One was taken at Smoky Tickle, Labrador, in August 1906, which,
according to the Newfoundland newspapers, was said to be 9 feet long when spit,
and 5 feet broad. It is said to have weighed, when dry, 230 lbs. Doubtless
these figures were exaggerated.

152 NEWFOUNDLAND

nets, or nets, hand-lines, and trawls all together. At this
season the fish are at their best quality, as the caplin are in,
and on these the cod largely feed. Caplin strike on to the
south coast about the loth of June, and last till ist August,
dying in myriads on the shore after spawning amongst the
seaweed.

In shape a cod-trap is very like a house, with a large
door at which the fish can enter. In the water it is 15
fathoms square on the ground plan, and 10 to 12 fathoms
deep, the mesh of the net being 7 inches. The trap is set
in 10 to 12 fathoms of water, and a long net stretching
landwards, and called a "leader," guides the fish in at the
front door. Once they go in they seldom return. This
effective trap is hauled up twice a day, and generally it will
contain anything from i to 150 quintals of fish.

Cod-nets are of somewhat different construction, the mesh
being small, only 6 inches. They are about 100 fathoms
long, and are about 20 feet deep. Weights are attached to
the bottom, and they are sunk in from 18 to 20 fathoms of
water. The cod run their heads into the net, and get their
gills entangled. These nets are hauled once a day, and
contain from a few fish to 10 quintals.

A cod-seine is a long net 102 to 130 fathoms of still
smaller mesh, 4 inches in the centre and 5 at both ends.
It is coiled in the stern of a small boat, and two men cast
it out as the boat is rowed in a circle. The men, by means
of a water-glass, see the school of fish before casting their
net, and are sometimes very successful at this method of
fishing. The cod-seine net can be cast several times during
the day.

Hand-line fishing from small boats is somewhat precarious.
The men usually average about fifty fish a day, but as many

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 153

as 20 quintals have been taken in one day by two men, who
happened to strike a shoal of hungry cod.

The cod-traps, cod-seines, and cod-nets all stop about
1st August, but the hand-line men and " bankers," with trawl
lines, go on till about ist October, when the weather usually
becomes too bad for fishing.

Having brought the fish ashore, it may interest the
reader to follow the history of the fish until it is eventually
distributed.

As soon as the cod are brought ashore they are treated
as follows. One man cuts the throat, another cuts the head
off, a third splits and cleans the fish, and a fourth salts it.
These "green" fish are then arranged in piles for a week
or a fortnight. They are then taken out and washed in salt
by boys and girls, and again packed in bulk for twenty-four
hours. After this they are spread out to dry in the sun on
the fir-branched trestles or flakes. It takes about five fine
days to dry a cod. The dried fish is then packed in bulk
and stored in the house, ready for removal. A usual price
for outport curers is five dollars a quintal. (A quintal is
112 lbs., and it takes about fifty trawl fish, or a hundred
trap fish, to realise this weight.)

The cod-fishing has for centuries been the mainstay of
the island, and when all other things fail, this (and the
caribou) will last, if taken care of. Of course seasons
fluctuate owing to the irregular movements of the fish, but
it may be taken as a general rule that if the season is bad
off Newfoundland it is good on " The Labrador," or " Down
North " as it is always called, where a large percentage of
the Newfoundlanders go to fish.

The report of the Fisheries Board will give some idea
of the great number of cod which are usually exported.

154 NEWFOUNDLAND

The total export of cod-fish by customs returns for the
past five years was as follows, showing an average annual
export of 1,322,466 quintals: —

Season 1899-1900 ...... 1,300,622

„ 1900-1901 1,233,107

1901-1902 1,288,95s

,, 1902-1903 1,429,274

1903-1904 1,360,373

The Grand Banks extend from Labrador southwards past
Newfoundland to the Massachusetts coast, a distance of over
1000 miles, and every year some 1200 vessels, carrying crews
of 20,000 fishermen, go out to battle with the surges as they
have done for the past four hundred years. The fisher-
men of all lands have to encounter the perils of the deep,
but none have to face the risks that the "bankers" do.
Their special dangers are swift liners, that steam full speed
through the fog, ice-bergs, ice-floes, chilling frosts, and
furious storms. The fishing- zone lies right in the track of
great liners plying between Europe and America, and many
a poor fisherman has lived to curse

" Some damned liner's lights go by
Like a great hotel " ;

whilst nearly all have some heartrending tale to tell of the
destruction of fishing craft of which he has been an eye-
witness. There is an ever-increasing record of sunken
ships, of frosts which overpower, and of dory crews driven
from their schooners by sudden tempests, and, during the
fishing season, hardly a week goes by without some tale of
misfortune. Of the method of fishing and the disasters which
overtake the ship I must quote a passage from one of Mr.
P. T. M'Grath's articles,^ which are full of interest and
accurate information.

• St. John's Htrald, 28th August 1906.

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 155

" When fishing is actually in progress, the smacks always
anchor, for the shoals carry only thirty to sixty fathoms of
water, and hempen cables are used instead of iron chains
to moor them, as the latter would saw their bows out from
the lively pitching they do in these choppy seas. The fishing
itself is done from dories, light but strong flat-bottomed
boats, each carrying two men, who set their lines or trawls
overnight, and examine them next day, removing the fish
impaled on the hooks with which the trawl is furnished, and
then rebaiting them for another night's service. The ship
is therefore like a hen with a flock of chickens, the dories
standing in this relation to her, while the trawls radiate from
her as spokes from a wheel-hub, being laid outward from
her at a distance of one or two miles, the ship serving as
a depot for feeding and housing the men and for cleaning
and storing their catch. In setting and cleaning his trawls
and cleaning his catch the doryman finds abundant occupation,
and rarely gets more than a few hours' sleep in a night, some-
times none at all.

" Thus it is that when fogs obscure the water, vigilance
is relaxed by the toil-worn look-out, to whom is entrusted
the lives of a score of comrades, tiredly sleeping below.
Though the fog-horn each vessel carries is sounded regularly,
still many a horror is enacted amid this curtain of gloom,
when a mighty steamship splits a hapless fisher-boat and,
like a marine juggernaut, rushes on over the wreckage and
bodies she sends to the bottom by the stroke of her steel-
clad prow. Often at night a sudden crash rends the stillness,
and a shriek of despair rises from the stricken schooner's
crew, a swirl of splintered wood in her wake to mark the
eddies for a while, and then vanish, a tomb for fifteen or
twenty men.

156 NEWFOUNDLAND

" Last summer one of the German liners cut down a
trawler on the banks, but it was in the daytime, and the
crew fortunately escaped. The previous year two similar
occurrences took place with equally harmless results. The
freighter Endymion, however, bound to Montreal, crashed
into the smack Albatross off Cape Race last July, and of
the nineteen on the latter only one was saved. In September
1902 the collier Warspite sank the smack Bonavista on one
of the banks, three only surviving out of twenty-two on
board. In 1898 the City of Rome ripped the stem off the
smack Victor of St. Pierre Miquelon, but she kept afloat,
and a relief party from the liner got her safely to land after
three days of trying endeavour, as she was leaking badly
from the shock. This humane action on the liner's part is
agreeably remembered yet among the fishing fleets, for, if
the bankmen are to be believed, steamers usually keep on
as if nothing had happened, and tell the passengers who
may have felt the shock that it was caused by striking
loose ice or suddenly changing the course. It is, indeed,
alleged among the bankmen, that crews of foreign steamers
will beat off with belaying pins the wretches from the
foundering vessels who try to swarm on board, that the
name of the destroyer may not be known, and local com-
plications be thus avoided.

" How many of the missing bankmen meet their end in
this way can only be conjectured, but certain it is that far
more are sunk than are reported to the world. Frequently
the steamer's people scarcely know what has happened when
such a catastrophe occurs to the accompaniment of a midnight
storm, so slight is the shock of impact on her huge hull, and
with spectators few at these times, and look-outs and watch-
officers having every reason to escape inquiry and possible

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 157

punishment, the temptation to hurry on and make no alarm
is usually yielded to. Many lives are certainly sacrificed
every year because of this which could otherwise be saved,
for the fishing schooners are all wooden-built and, unless
mortally smitten, will float for some time. Even at the
worst the men can cling to planks or spars long enough
to be rescued if the steamer would stop to launch a boat,
which, of course, is always done when the collision occurs
while passengers are on deck or in daylight.

"The fishermen take every ship that strikes them to be
a liner, but, during the last few years, the greyhound track
has been moved south of the Grand Bank to avoid them,
so fearful from these mishaps previously, and now most of
the tragedies are due to freighters, which swarm across this
area during the summer. Not a few of the unrecorded
disappearances there of splendid trawlers must be assigned
to these racing steamboats, such as the loss of the Cora
M'Kay, in October 1902, one of the finest vessels that
ever sailed out of Gloucester, which disappeared with her
twenty-two men under conditions which would warrant the
belief that she was run over and sent to the bottom. Eight
French smacks from St. Pierre were damaged by steam-
ships in 1900, and there is every reason to think that
three others were sunk with all hands by them the same
year.

" So frequent are these collisions, that the recent comic
papers had a rather ghastly joke about a tourist returning
to America and bemoaning the uneventful passage, as the
ship ' ran down only one fishing smack, don't you know.'
All steamers are supposed to slow down to half-speed during
a fog, but this rule is rarely observed, and it is to its ignoring
that most of the fatalities are due.

158 NEWFOUNDLAND

" Equally terrible destruction is often wrought by the gales
which sweep the banks in the fishing time. Chief among
these, in its appalling fatality list, was the ' Seventh of June
Breeze' of 1896. The day was fine and fair for fishing,
when the tempest broke and caught hundreds of dories far
from their ships, imperilling not alone the skiffs and occupants,
but also the vessels themselves, because only the captain and
cook remain aboard while trawling is on. Scores of boats
and several vessels sank, and over 300 lives were lost. Three
Newfoundland, two Canadian, and three Americans were sunk
at their moorings, and all hands were lost."

It is sad to see a grand old man like Lord Roberts trying
to arouse the nation to a sense of its military weakness, but,
thank heaven, those in power in the Navy are not so blind
or foolish as to overlook the splendid reserve of naval seamen
that can be made from the Terra-Novan fishermen. We
have great and powerful colonies full of virile men capable
of making excellent soldiers, but where can we find sailors
that are experienced and used to the sea beyond our own
coasts, except in Newfoundland ? Here we have a people,
bound to us not only by the ties of kinship, but of love.
It is a land where the portraits of our beloved King and
Queen hang in every humble cottage, not as nominal rulers
of some visionary power, but as the heads of the great
motherland for which the islanders have both pride and
respect. Newfoundland will gladly give of her best when
the great day of war comes, as come it surely will, and her
bluejackets, I feel sure, will acquit themselves with honour.
I cannot do better than conclude this chapter with some
stirring lines by James B. Connolly : —

(^Kll^.iJi^ot-

Old Sweethearts

The Captain about to Fire at a Finback.

VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 159

" Oh, Newf undland and Cape Shore men, and men of Gloucester town,
With ye I've trawled o'er many banks, and sailed the compass round ;
I've ate wi' ye, and watched wi' ye, and bunked wi' ye, all three,
And better shipmates than ye were I never hope to see.
I've seen ye in a wild typhoon beneath a Southern sky,
I've seen ye when the Northern gales drove seas to masthead high ;
But summer breeze or winter blow, from Hatt'ras to Cape Race,
I've yet to see ye with the sign of fear upon your face."

The total strength of the Newfoundland naval reserve
is at present 573, and it ought to be treble this number. The
men enrol for a period of five years, at the expiration of
which they can enrol for a further period or obtain their
discharge. The reservists between the age of eighteen
and thirty are of two classes, " Seamen " and " Qualified
Seamen " ; on entry he belongs to the former class.

CHAPTER VIII

MODERN FIN-WHALING AND THE GREAT WHALES

Before introducing my readers to the business and excitement
of modern whale-hunting, it is necessary to give a slight
review or history of Newfoundland's advance in this respect,
and to see how the industry gradually developed since the first
discovery of the island by Cabot in 1497.^

Soon after this important discovery great tales of the
Newfoundland seas and their riches excited the Devon and
Somerset men to cross the Atlantic in their crazy fishing boats
to filch the treasures of the deep in the shape of walrus, seal,
and cod from the waters of the west. Owing to the rapacity
of those in power these early mariners kept their catch secret
for a long time, carrying their salt cod to Spain and Portugal,
just as they do to-day, and reaping a rich reward. Judge
Prowse, than whom there is no better authority on the island's
history, tells us that " the proofs that the trade was both
extensive and lucrative are abundant. In 1527, the little
Devonshire fishing ships were unable to carry home their
large catch, so ' sack ships ' (large merchant vessels) were
employed to carry the salt cod to Spain and Portugal, In
1 54 1 an Act of Henry VIII. classes the Newfoundland trade
among such well-known enterprises as the Irish, Shetland, and
Iceland fisheries. Soon after 1497, the great trade between
Bristol and Iceland declined, and the price of fish fell. We have
further transactions in ' barrelled fish ' from Newfoundland.

' Our information on this point is derived from Italian and Spanish letters written

soon after his arrival in 1497.

160

The Captain of the Whaler

DusKV Mallard or Black. Duck.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 161

In 1583 Sir Humphrey Gilbert came to St. John's especially
to obtain supplies for his impoverished fleet, and it is then
mentioned as a 'place very populace and much frequented.'
' The English command all there.' "

Sir Walter Raleigh declared that this trade was the main-
stay and support of the western counties, and " that if any
misfortune happened to the Newfoundland fleet, it would be
the greatest calamity that could befall England." The value
will be seen from the fact that the Newfoundland business
employed over 10,000 men, who earned annually over
^500,000 — a very large sum in those days, and amounting
to a half of the national assets.

One is apt to forget that the great Chancellor Bacon was
not only famous for his literary gifts. He was also, as Ben
Jonson tells us, a great public speaker, and, far in advance of
his age, believed in the value and success of our colonies.
He was the chief organiser of "The London and Bristol
Company for Colonising Newfoundland," and drew up both
its prospectus and the rules of the new enterprise. In one
passage he refers to "The Goldmine of the Newfoundland
fishery, richer than all the treasures of Golconda and Peru,"
and thus predicted a success for the industry which has since
come true. For as Prowse remarks : "This wonderful harvest
of the sea has been producing millions upon millions every
season for four hundred years, as productive to-day as when
John Cabot and his West-country fishermen first sighted ' the
New-founde-launde,' and told their countrymen marvellous
stories about the fish that were dipped up in baskets, of the
great deer, and of the strange birds and beasts in this wonder-
ful new island of the West. These tales of wealth in fur,
fin, and feather in our most ancient colony are as true to-day
as in the Tudor age."

162 NEWFOUNDLAND

These hardy old sea-rovers, together with a small per-
centage of French and Portuguese, fished on the Grand
Banks, or killed the seal and walrus in early spring to the
north and west. It was not, however, until about 1550, that
the Spanish Basques, who had long chased the Great Southern
Right Whale {Balcsna atistralis) in the stormy waters of the
Bay of Biscay, inaugurated the whaling industry in the
Newfoundland seas.

It is a common fallacy amongst the British, that we were
the first nation to commence whaling. It was the Basques
who first chased the seal and the walrus,^ and afterwards
taught our people the dangerous business of whale-killing.
The very word " harpoon " is derived from an old Basque
word " harpon." Yet though the English ruled all then in
Newfoundland, as they had maintained their supremacy
hundreds of years before in the Iceland cod-fishery, whaling
was a trade they had to learn and did learn. For courtesy
the chief post, that of whale-killer, was held by a Basque
" harponier," just as the Norwegians are the first of whale-
men to-day.

Up to 1800 the whales were pursued in open boats, and
struck with the hand harpoon; about 1830 the small bomb
came into use ; soon after which date whales were found too
difficult and dangerous to hunt, the Right Whale (probably
Balana australis, not Balcsna mysticetus) having almost com-
pletely disappeared. The last Right Whale killed in New-
foundland was taken near Gaultois, on the south coast,
in 1850.

In the year 1880, a Norwegian sailor named Svend Foyn,
after several ineffectual attempts to kill the great Balcenoptera

' This of course only refers to our colonial hunting. The Norwegians had for
long exploited the waters of Spitsbergen for the chase of these animals.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 163

with ordinary lines and bomb-guns, invented the cannon and
harpoon with exploding head. This was at once found to
be effective on the greatest of all whales, such as Sibbald's
Rorqual, the Common Rorqual, and the Humpback. These
enormous creatures had never previously suffered from the
attacks of man to any serious extent, because the attempt to
strike and hold them with the ordinary methods employed on
the Greenland, the Southern Right, or the Sperm Whales,
would have led to disaster.

Svend Foyn commenced operations at once on the Finmark
coast of Norway in 1880, and his immediate success was quickly
followed by a crowd of small vessels which, killing sometimes
as many as five or six Balanoptera in a single day, rapidly
depleted the northern grounds. Many thousands were slain
until the Norwegian Government stepped in and put a stop
to further operations by appointing a close time until the year
1907. This industry, however, was profitable, so the gallant
Norwegians, having found a trade after their own hearts, at
once set out to look for " fresh fields and pastures new."
Balcenoptera were reported as being numerous in the Gulf
of St. Lawrence and Newfoundland waters, and in 1897- 1899
the Cabot Whaling Company commenced hunting, and began
operations at Snooks Arm, and at Balaena, in Hermitage
Bay. The first whale was killed on 25th June 1898 by the
steamer Cabot (Captain Bull), and she killed 47 in that year.
In 1899 she took 95 ; in 1900 the total was in ; in 1901 the
Cabot and another boat killed 258 ; in 1902 three steamers
slew 472 ; and in 1903 four steamers slaughtered the enor-
mous total of 858 large whales. In 1904 more ships took the
sea, the total catch of fourteen factories being 1275 whales,
made up as follows : 264 Sibbald's Rorqual, 281 Humpbacks,
690 Common Rorqual, 39 Rudolphi's Rorqual, i Sperm Whale.

164 NEWFOUNDLAND

In spite of this great slaughter, whales were reported to be
quite as plentiful as usual in the spring of 1905. In fact, in
April and May Sibbald's Rorqual and Common Rorqual were
abundant along the edge of the ice at the mouth of the St.
Lawrence, and on the south coast of Newfoundland, as far
east as Placentia Bay. In June, however, whales suddenly
became extremely scarce, owing, said some of the owners and
St. John's people, to the excessive slaughter, but in reality to
the trend seawards of the stream of " kril " or red shrimp, on
which the great Balcenoptera subsist.

The whales which are hunted are : Sibbald's Rorqual
{Balcsnoptera Sibbaldi), called by the Norwegians "the Blue
Whale," and by the Americans and Newfoundlanders by the
stupid name of " Sulphur-Bottom " ; the Common Rorqual
{Balcsnoptera musculus), g&nersiWy knovin as "the Finback";
the Humpback Whale {Megapiera boops) ; and Rudolphi's
Rorqual {Balcsnoptera borealis), known to the Norwegians as
" Seijval," or Seiwhale. The Lesser Rorqual {Balcsnoptera
rostrata), or Minkie's Whale, and the Sperm Whale, are also
killed on rare occasions.

Sibbald's Rorqual, or, as I shall call it in future, the Blue
Whale, is the largest of living creatures, and larger than any
mammal or reptile that the world has ever seen. Zoologists
who revel in piecing together the extinct creatures of the past,
and giving them an undue prominence, are somewhat apt to
overlook the more interesting forms which still live and fre-
quent our seas close at hand. Consequently the distribution
and habits of the most wonderful things that have ever
breathed have not received the attention they deserved. On
commencing the study of whales some years ago, I found the
literature of the Balcsnoptera so meagre that much study and
personal experience would be necessary to ascertain new facts

\'arious Whales Spouting

1. The Humpbacked Whale. Spout like the smoke of a cigar, round and evanescent.

2. Atlantic Right Whale, redrawn by the Author from a sketch by a Nordkaper hunter.
J. Blue Whale. Spout from 15 to 30 feet in height.

4. Common Rorqual. Spout from 10 to 15 feet.

5. Rudolphi's Rorqual. Spout from 8 to 10 feet. Rudolphi's and the Common

Rorqual do not show the tail when " sounding."

MODERN FIN-WHALING 165

about them and their ways. Since the introduction of the
whaHng steamer, and the publication of Dr. True's admirable
monograph on the " Whalebone Whales of the North- West
Atlantic," our knowledge has advanced by leaps and bounds,
and now we know a good deal about these animals, although
many points still remain to be cleared up, especially with regard
to the distribution and movements of the several species, which
I have carefully studied at home and abroad.

In a work of this kind I shall not inflict on my readers
the dry bones of scientific lore, but shall only place before
them just as many details as are necessary to allow them to
understand superficially the animals we are about to hunt.

The Blue Whale is distinguished from the other Rorquals
by its superior size and rich colour. All the upper part is a
rich zinc-blue slate, the lower a dark blue-grey, whilst the
interior parts of the throat and belly grooves are brownish-
grey. The pectoral fins are blue-grey with snow-white outer
edges. The baleen plates, about 4 feet in length, are black,
and number up to 400. The Blue Whale feeds almost ex-
clusively on a small red shrimp [Etiphausia), known to the
Norwegians as " kril," and "swamps" {Temora longicornis).
Adults measure from 70 to 102 feet, and weigh approximately
from 150 to 200 tons, and yield over 100 barrels of oil. This
whale occurs both in the Atlantic and the Pacific. It has
been observed off the fringe of the Antarctic ice, and all along
both coasts of America, whilst many winter to the east of the
West Indies. In March and April large numbers approach
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, just keeping outside the ice. Here
the main body of these western whales separate, one gathering
going right up the estuary as the ice breaks, the other turning
east along the south coast of Newfoundland, slowly, but closely,
fishing the banks of " kril " as far as Cape St. Mary, in

166 NEWFOUNDLAND

Placentia Bay. As a rule, in the month of June, the " krll "
move out from Cape St. Mary to the Grand Banks, where
the whales scatter and feed about over a large area, and do
not return to the Newfoundland coast until September and
October. They do not go north along the Newfoundland
east coast, or along the Labrador. It is still uncertain whether
these whales, which return in September, are the same as
those which left the south coast in June, or fresh comers from
the south. It is also uncertain where this herd of whales
winter, but the Norwegian captains, who are the best judges
on these matters, are all inclined to think that they do not
go very far, but winter about the Grand Banks,^ some two
hundred miles off south-east Newfoundland, and scattered
over a large area. Certainly, many solitary Blue Whales
have been seen by ships in this range during the winter
months.

The range of the Blue Whale in the eastern Atlantic may
be briefly summed up as follows. They appear in large
numbers in early May off the west coast of the Hebrides,
where one factory in Harris killed no less than forty-two in
1905. They then strike due north, passing the Faroes,
where a few are killed ; and make their summer home in
the seas off Finmark, Spitzbergen, the White Sea, and the
north-east coast of Iceland. Captain Larsen, who has made
five trips to East Greenland in summer, has also seen many
there. In October all these Blue Whales strike due south,
going at full-speed, holding out for the main Atlantic, into
which they disappear for the winter.

In the water the Blue Whale, doubtless owing to its vast
bulk, is somewhat slow and stately in its movements. It

' I saw two individuals about two hundred miles east of St. John's in
November 1906.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 167

travels in search of food at the rate of about six miles an
hour, but when frightened, travelling, or struck by a harpoon,
it can go at twenty knots, a speed which it can maintain for
a long period. In feeding on a bank of "kril," it swims on
its side, erects a fin, and gives a sudden movement of " full-
speed ahead " ; at the same moment the vast mouth is opened
and slowly closed, encompassing about twenty barrels of
shrimps. As the mouth closes the water is forced outwards,
and may be seen rushing in a white stream from the sides
of the baleen, whilst the food remains resting on the inside
of the "plates," to be swallowed at leisure. All the BalcBnop-
tera feed in this manner, and I have seen a large Finback
rolling round and round the steamer, taking in its huge
mouthfuls with evident satisfaction, and caring as little for
our presence as if we were not there at all — in fact it seemed
a miracle that he could avoid striking the vessel with his
great jaws.

The Blue Whale generally remains under water during his
great dive, according to my watch, for ten to twenty minutes.
On reaching the surface he " blows," sending up a spout of
air and steam to a height of from 20 to 30 feet. He rolls
over, slowly exposing the blow-hole, and afterwards the small
back fin. Then he makes a series of from eight to twelve
short dives on the surface, occupying four minutes. When
making his great dive he often raises his tail right out of the
water, but not at such a perpendicular angle as the Humpback,
It is during the time the whale is making these short dives
on the surface that the steam whaler races in and endeavours
to get the shot. When struck by the harpoon and its burst-
ing charge, the great Blue Whale often dives at once and
sinks to the bottom of the sea. Frequently it rushes off at
high speed, and then, coming to the surface, dies after a short

168 NEWFOUNDLAND

" flurry." Sometimes, however, when the whale is hit too
far back or near and under the backbone (in which case the
bomb does not explode), a long and difficult chase, protracted
for hours, ensues. On the whole this is a fairly tame whale,
and not considered dangerous, if ordinary precautions are
observed. The value is from ;^ioo to ;^i50.

Although not so difficult to kill as the Finback, this species
is possessed of greater strength and staying power than any
whale, and some exciting experiences have fallen to the lot
of the Fin-whalers engaged in its chase. The most remarkable
and protracted hunt on record after a whale was experienced
by the steamer Puma in 1903. The most exaggerated ac-
counts of this appeared in the American and English papers,
where the journalists went so far as to say that the whale
had towed the ship from Newfoundland to Labrador, and
other wild statements. The following particulars were given
to me by Hans Johanssen, mate of the Puma, and Captain
Christopherson himself, so they are, at any rate, first-hand.

The Puma spied and "struck" a large Blue Whale, six
miles from Placentia, at nine o'clock in the morning. The
animal immediately became " wild," and it was found impos-
sible to get near enough to fire another harpoon into it, as
it came on to blow hard. For the entire day it towed the
steamer, with engines at half-speed astern, at a rate of six
knots. Towards evening a second rope was made fast to
the stern of the vessel and attached to the first line, now
" out " one mile. The steamer then put on full-speed ahead.
This seemed to incense the whale, which put forth all its
strength, and dragged the whole of the after part of the
vessel under water, flooding the after cabin and part of the
engine-room. The stern rope was immediately cut with an
axe and the danger averted. All through the night the

MODERN FIN-WHALING 169

gallant whale dragged the steamer, with the dead weight of
two miles of rope, and the engines going half-speed astern,
and at 9 a.m. the following morning the monster seemed to
be as lively and powerful as ever. At 10 a.m., however, its
strength seemed to decrease, and at 11 it was wallowing on
the surface, where, at 12.30, it was finally lanced by the
captain. This great fight occupied twenty-eight hours, the
whale having dragged the steamer a distance of thirty miles
to Cape St. Mary.

The Common Rorqual, or " Finback," is the second largest
whale. Adults are from 60 to 70 feet in length. The upper
surface is a dark amber-brown, the lower white. In a few
examples, a grey-brown colour covers the whole of the
lower parts, and these are known to the Norwegian whale-
men as " bastards," and considered by them as separate
species. This is, however, an error, as the dark colour is
merely an individual variation. The baleen plates are 3 feet
in length and 375 in number on each side, being of two
colours, blue-grey and yellowish-white. They are more
valuable than those of the Blue Whale or the Humpback, but
fetch less than the "plates" of Rudolphi Rorqual, which are
considered the best quality amongst the Balccnoptera.

The distribution of this whale is very wide. It travels
all over the temperate seas of the northern and southern
hemispheres. It is abundant off the Antarctic ice, and num-
bers pass up and down the Pacific, and go as far north as
the Aleutian Islands and Behring Straits. On the western
Atlantic side many winter to the east of the West Indian
Islands, and appear off the Massachusetts coast about March,
working up into the St. Lawrence and off the south and
east coast of Newfoundland, where they stay until August.
The main body seem to scatter out on the Grand Banks,

170 NEWFOUNDLAND

or move north along the Labrador, where they are very
numerous in August and September, in fact until the northern
ice comes dovirn and drives them south again. On the British
coasts they appear in large numbers off Harris and West
Shetland in May, and move north-east very slowly through-
out the summer, following the banks of " kril." By September
the main herds are still only about loo miles due north of
Muckle Flugga (Unst), where I saw 200 all in view at once
in 1904. After this the whalemen think they slowly con-
tinue their journey north-north-east, and that they turn south-
west again in October, bringing with them the main body,
which has summered up on the Finmark coast, Spitzbergen,
Iceland, and the White Sea. In general habits this whale
is very similar to the Blue Whale, but it is a more active
creature. It swims faster, and remains under water for a
shorter period (about eight to twelve minutes).

Its superficial dives are also made more quickly, only from
six to ten appearances taking place.

In the midst of "kril" or caplin it moves very slowly,
and drives the " bait " together by circling round it. When
thus engaged Finbacks seem to be quite oblivious of the
presence of ships, and roll under the bows and body of the
ship with a disregard of their own safety which is truly
astonishing ; and yet so delicate is their judgment of distance
and sense of proportion that they seldom, if ever, come into
collision with a vessel.^ Strange as it may seem, these feeding
whales are sometimes most difficult to fire at from the ship. I
have been in a whaler within a stone's-throw of a big Finback
for a quarter of an hour, and the captain, with all his skilful

' A Finner moving in a mass of "kril" struck a whaler on the coast of Finmark
in 1890. The whale was stunned, and the vessel sustained iittle injury beyond
some bent plates.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 171

manceuvring, has been unable to obtain a shot, the whale
never once rising within proper distance of the firing circle.
When feeding, the Finback turns on its side, gives a " start "
forward, and erects the pectoral. As it rolls slowly over, it
also shows the whole of one side of the tail. About six to
ten feet below the surface it opens its enormous mouth, and
closes it slowly, to take in vast numbers of " kril." As the
mouth shuts one sees a white stream of water rushing from the
outer sides of the baleen plates. The whale opens and shuts
its mouth several times before coming to the surface. In
the vicinity of the feeding operations the sea is suffused with a
mass of oily matter, in which numerous small marine creatures,
too small for the eye of man to see, are present. On these
descend swarms of kittiwakes, Leach's petrels, and Manx
greater and dusky shearwaters, which are for ever scouring
the seas on the look-out for such provender. Finbacks some-
times associate in scattered parties, or even in one great herd,
the individual members of which keep at a considerable distance
from one another. Often they are met with singly, or in family
parties consisting of the bull, cow, and calf of the previous
year. Off the coast of Shetland they are usually found from
thirty to ninety miles distance in 120 fathoms of water (Foden),
but are sometimes seen within a mile of the land. Like the
Blue Whale and some of the dolphins, they seem fond of the
company of large vessels, and will play round these without
alarm.

The food consists of a few herrings, caplin, Mallottis
arcticus, white fish, small squid, and various crustaceans. It
is the general opinion of the whalers that this species only
eats herrings when crustaceans are unobtainable. Very few
Finbacks have been obtained in Shetland whose mouths or
stomachs contained herrings, but one was taken at the

172 NEWFOUNDLAND

Norrona Station, on 8th June 1905, which had devoured a
small quantity of herrings.

On being struck the Finback is either killed dead on the
spot, or rushes away at a speed of about 15 knots for a
distance of two or more miles. Most of the steamers carry
about 2^ miles of line. When it is exhausted the rope is
"clamped," z.e. held fast by the winch, and the steamer is
towed at a rate of 6 to 10 knots. As the efforts of the whale
slacken, quarter-, half-, or full-speed astern is employed by the
steamer to act as a drag, and so the battle goes on until the
monster is exhausted, or the harpoon "drawn." Space will
not allow me to give any of the numerous stories of the
exciting hunts to which one listens in the galley and the cabin
of the Atlantic Fin-whalers, but they prove that the chase of
this great whale calls for the sternest courage and readiest
resource. To stand up in a tiny "pram" amidst a whirl of
waters and lance a fighting Finback is no child's play, and
requires that three-o'clock-in-the-morning pluck that the
Norsemen possess in a high degree. Many accidents have
occurred to the boat crews when engaged in "lancing," and
one or two to the steamers themselves. The whaler Gracia,
belonging to Vadso, was sunk by a Finner in 1894 in the
Veranger Fjord. In 1896 the Jarjford was sunk in ten
minutes by one of these whales charging it when about sixty
miles north of the North Cape. A heavy sea was running
at the time, and the crew crowded into two small prams
which would probably have been overwhelmed had not
Captain Castberg, hunting in another steamer, come to their
rescue.

The following notes from my diary were made when, as
guest of Mr. Haldane, I shared in the chase of the Finback
in August 1904: —

MODERN FIN-WHALING 173

After a day of fruitless battling with the wind and sea
we lay up in Balta Sound, Unst, for the night. At midday
the wind went down, and the captain and mate, who had
gone to the summit of a mountain to spy, were seen running
at full-speed for the boat. Steam was up and the anchor
weighed as soon as their feet touched the deck, and we ran
out for one mile eastward, where we found a large bull and
cow Finner. Several times a shot seemed imminent, but
the whales went down. After two hours' pursuit the captain
decided that these whales were too "wild," so we stood out
to the north, encountering several herds of Pilot Whales and
three Lesser Rorqual, the first I had seen. About six o'clock
in the evening we encountered the fringe of the main herd
of Finbacks, which were spouting in all directions. We
pursued whale after whale, but all seemed wild except one
monster which refused to leave the side of the vessel, and in
consequence could not be shot at. At last the mate got a
shot at 7 P.M., and missed. He was much crestfallen, and
retired to the galley to enjoy the healing balm of coffee and
potatoes. At 7.30 it was bitterly cold when Captain Stokken
again stood beside the gun, and we were in full pursuit of
a large female Finback that seemed tamer than the rest.
Eventually in its final " roll " the whale raised itself about
ten yards from the gun, and the whaler tipping the muzzle
downwards fired and struck the quarry under the backbone.

At first the Finback was rather quiet, and then it began
to run, the strong line rushing out at a speed of about
15 knots. When some two miles of rope had gone over the
bow I turned to Captain Stokken, and said :

"How much line have you got?"

"About three mile," was the curt reply.

"But when that three miles goes, what then?"

174 NEWFOUNDLAND

"Oh, well," was the imperturbable answer, "then I check
line, and we see which is strongest, whale or rope. Perhaps
harpoon draws out."

In the course of a minute the captain gave the order
to check the line. The strain now became terrific, the two-
inch rope straining and groaning as if it would burst. At
the same moment the little steamer leaped forward and raced
over the seas at about twelve miles an hour. There was a
feeling of intense exhilaration as we rushed northwards, the
spray flying from our bows as the ship leapt from crest to
crest in the heavy swell. I have enjoyed the rushes of
gallant thirty and even forty-pound salmon in heavy water on
the Tay, the supreme moments in an angler's life, but that was
mere child's play to the intense excitement which we now
experienced during the next three hours. To be in tow of a
wild whale is something to experience and remember to one's
dying day. You feel that you are alive, and that you are
there with the sport of kings. No wonder the Norwegians
are full of life, and the men, from the captain to the cook,
run to their several tasks with eyes and hearts aflame. This
is a trade which will stir the blood of the dullest clod, and
to men who are one and all the finest seamen in the world,
it is the very life and essence of the Viking nature.

Three hours of this fierce race went on, and the whale
seemed as if it would take us to Iceland. The gallant Fin-
back was as fresh as ever when the captain gave the order,
"Quarter-speed astern." Another tremendous strain on the
rope, the churning of the backward-driving screw, and our
speed was at once reduced to lo knots. It was marvellous
the strength of the animal. The minutes and even the hours
fled by, still the great cetacean held on its northward course
without a check. Three hours went by ; then came the order,

MODERN FIN-WHALING 175

" Half-speed astern," and we were down to 6 knots, the
vessel and the whale still fighting the battle for the mastery.
In another hour the whale showed visible signs of weakening,
when " Full-speed astern " brought matters to a standstill. The
machinery of man and the natural strength of the beast still
worried on for another hour, and then we saw the steamer
moving backwards ; the whale was done, and could pull no
more.

The rope was then slackened, hoisted on to a "giving"
pulley, and then wound on to the powerful steam winch,
which, acting like the fisherman's reel, at once began to
"take in." Nothing was heard for another hour but the
monotonous throb of the engine, until at last on the crest of
a wave, about 300 yards to windward, was seen the great
Finback, rolling over and over, spouting continuously, but so
tired that it was unable to drag or dive.

The captain now gave the order, " Lower away to lance."
There was a fairly heavy sea running, as there always is off
Shetland, and yet I never saw anything more smartly done
than the way in which those Norwegians flung their light
"pram" into the water and jumped in from the bulwarks.
Other men were ready with the oars, which they handed to
the two rowers, whilst the mate seized the long 15-foot
"killing" lance, and the small party rowed rapidly away
towards the whale. This is the dangerous part of whaling ;
the killing of the Finback, and more especially the Humpback,
is neither a safe nor an easy matter. If the whale is not
quite exhausted, it rapidly rights itself, and goes for the boat
and its occupants, whom it endeavours to strike with its
flippers ; sometimes it turns away from the boat and brings
the tail sharply downwards on boat and men. Many fatal
accidents have occurred on such occasions.

176 NEWFOUNDLAND

Hans Andersen, the mate, stood up in the stern, holding
his long lance, as the men rowed slowly up to the leviathan.
Then the rowers turned the boat round, and backed it in
towards their prey. At times they were lost in the great
swell, and then they would appear apparently beside the
sea-monster, whose pathetic rolling was at once changed into
spasmodic life. The whale, churning the water, now righted
itself, and at once turned on its attackers, who retreated at
full-speed. Now on one side and now on another, the plucky
mate tried to approach and bring off his death-thrust, but
all to no avail. Every time the exhausted cetacean had just
enough strength left to carry the war into the enemy's country,
and to turn the tables on its opponents. Mist and darkness
were rolling up, the sea was rising, and still the duel of
attack and defence went on. Full twenty times Andersen
got within 25 feet of his objective, and yet dare not give
the thrust, which, if attempted too soon, would mean his own
death. At last darkness hid the combatants from view, when
Stokken turned to me and said :

"This very wild whale. Must give him another shot, or
Andersen will get hurt." He reached up and blew the steam
whistle three times as a signal for the boat to return. In a
few minutes Andersen's cheerful face was looking up at us,
the lance held high and streaming with blood.

" Ha, so you stab him," said Stokken.

"Ja, just as you blow the whistle," replied the mate,
with a smile. The pram and its occupants were soon aboard,
and the whale rolled in and lashed alongside by the tail.
The chase had lasted seven hours.

Few Finbacks fight so well as this, but it was a sight
to see, and one I shall never forget.

Rudolphi's Rorqual, commonly called the "Seijval," or

."t;

MODERN FIN-WHALING 177

" Seiwhale," is another common species in northern waters,
but is not so much souo-ht after owingr to its inferior size.
The baleen, however, is most valuable of all, next to that of
the two Right Whales. Its general habits are similar to the
last named, but it is much swifter in its movements than
either of them. When first struck it races off at great
speed — Norwegians say 25 knots an hour; but this is
seldom maintained for more than a quarter of an hour, and
it is then easily killed. This whale often comes close in
shore, like the Humpback, and may often be seen in the
tideways of Scotland close to the northern islands.

The last of the whales which form the prey of the Balcsn-
optera hunters is the Humpback {Megaptera boops). It is
a very strong, thick-set animal, 50 feet long and often 40 feet
in circumference. It varies in colour from jet black all over
with white outer edges to its 15-foot pectoral fins to black
above and white underneath. The throat and breast grooves
are deeper and not so numerous as in the other varieties of
this group. No whale has so wide a distribution as the
Humpback, and it is safe to say that it is found in all the
large waters, whether warm or cold. It is very numerous
along the Antarctic ice, the Indian Ocean, the sea off the
Cape, and south to New Zealand. In the Pacific Islands
it is numerous, and there it is hunted with small boats ; in
the Vancouver and Behring Straits it is found in summer.
In the North Atlantic it is abundant on both sides and, I
believe, constantly passes from America to Shetland and
Norway. It also frequents the White Sea, Iceland, Green-
land, and the coast of Labrador at various seasons.

At Tobago and Santa Lucia the Humpback fishery is
worked by Americans. Captain Scammon gives an interest-
ing account in his book of the Humpback in the Pacific, and

178 NEWFOUNDLAND

the methods of taking it employed in the sixties and
seventies, and for a reliable narrative of the chase of this
whale in Friendly Islands the reader will find " My First
Whale," by Stanley Mylius, most entertaining.

In Europe the Humpback was not hunted until the intro-
duction of the little steamers and the bomb-gun invented by
Svend Foyn (1865), but now some hundreds are annually
killed in the northern waters of the Atlantic. In Shetland
about four or five per station is the usual take. Between
the years 1865 and 1885 large numbers of Humpbacks were
killed off the Finmark coast by the Norwegians ; in fact, so
successful were these steamers that they have decimated the
BalcBHOptera in the neighbourhood of the north-eastern waters.
A close time is now, however, in force.

Humpbacks appear in spring in the northern waters, and
often come close in shore, where they have been seen rubbing
their noses, lips, and fins on the rocks to free themselves
from the objectionable barnacles which grow on these parts.
They feed principally on " kril," but also eat a variety of
fish, such as caplin, &c.

The Humpback may be described as the clown of the sea.
It is of a joyous, lively disposition, rollicking and sporting
in the ocean with all the happy irresponsibility of a monstrous
child. We can hardly imagine a huge creature like a whale
being frolicsome, but such is the case, and within the limits
of its vast bulk it contrives to gret a lot of fun out of life.
In fact it is a sort of Marine White-tailed Gnu. The animal
loves to fling itself clear out of the water, coming down with
a huge splash, and to see two or three playing and romping
in a summer sea is quite an education in elephantine joy.

As a rule these whales are of a fearless disposition, and
will permit the close approach of a boat or small steamer.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 179

They seem to have no regular mating season, but the young
are born during the summer months. " In the mating season,"
says Captain Scammon, " they are noted for their amorous
antics. At such times their caresses are of the most amusing
and novel character, and these performances have doubtless
given rise to the fabulous tales of the sword-fish and thrasher
attacking whales. When lying by the side of each other,
the Megapteras frequently administer alternate blows with
their long fins, which love-pats may, on a still day, be heard
at a distance of miles. They also rub each other with the
same huge and flexible arms, rolling occasionally from side
to side, and indulging in other gambols which can easier be
imagined than described. The time of gestation is not known,
but in all probability it is the same as that of other large
cetaceans, not exceeding ten or twelve months. The calf
when brought forth, is about one-fourth the length of the
dam ; and it suckles by holding the teat between the extremity
of the jaws or lips, while the mother reclines a little on one
side, raising the posterior portion of her form nearly out of
the water, and lying in a relaxed condition. This peculiar
manner of suckling the young appears to be common to all
the whalebone whales.

When the whales first arrive on the Finmark coast the
Humpbacks are the only species of the large whales which
will voluntarily come into shallow water. They do so, so
say the Fin-whalers, to rub their heads and pectorals against
the rocks so as to free them from the barnacles which at
this season seem to cause them great annoyance. Captains
Castberg and Nilsen state that they have seen the Hump-
back rubbing their heads against rocks so close in shore
that a stone could have been thrown upon their backs. At
this season, too, they have often been observed dozing on

180 NEWFOUNDLAND

the surface of the sea in exactly the same curious position
as the Californian Grey Whale, Rhachianectes Glaucus as
figured by Scammon.^ This attitude of the Humpback at
rest was first described to me by Captain Nilsen, and its
accuracy is confirmed by Captains Larsen and Bull. Hump-
back will drift about motionless for half-an-hour, with the
head held in this perpendicular fashion, respiring the while
after the manner of other mammals.*

These whales exhibit unusual attachment to their young,
and will stand by and endeavour to defend them even if
seriously wounded. This affection is reciprocated by the
calf, as the following incident will show.

Captain Nilsen, of the whaler St. Lawrence, was hunting
in Hermitage Bay, Newfoundland, in June 1903, when he
came up to a huge cow Humpback and her calf. After
getting " fast " to the mother and seeing that she was ex-
hausted. Captain Nilsen gave the order to lower away the
" pram " for the purpose of lancing. However, when the
boat approached the wounded whale, the young one kept
moving round the body of its mother and getting between
the boat and its prey. Every time the mate endeavoured
to lance, the calf intervened, and by holding its tail towards
the boat and smashing it down whenever they approached,
kept the stabber at bay for half-an-hour. Finally the boat
had to be recalled for fear of an accident, and a fresh
harpoon was fired into the mother, causing instant death.
The faithful calf now came and lay alongside the body of
its dead mother, where it was badly lanced, but not killed.
Owing to its position it was found impossible to kill it, so

' " Marine Mammalia and American Whale Fishery," by Captain Scammon, p. 32.

^ Fabricius noted something of this kind, for he says that when the sea is calm
the Humpback rests as if it was asleep ; at other times on its side and beat itself
with the pectorals.

MODERN FIN- WHALING 181

another bomb-harpoon was fired into it. Even this did not
complete the tragedy, and it required another lance-stroke
to finish the gallant little whale.

Unlike the Balcenoptera which seldom eat fish, the
Humpback consumes quantities of the little white fish on its
first appearance in northern waters. It is also very partial
to the common squid and various small crustaceans. Its
principal food, however, is the small crustacean Euphausia
inermis^ on which it feeds almost exclusively from June to
September. If caplin are encountered and " kril " are
absent, it will eat no other food. Herrings do not seem
to be a part of the diet.^

Like the Finback, this whale usually takes its food side-
ways, but Nilsen has seen two in the act of feeding and
with mouth open in the usual attitude.

Humpbacks may be easily recognised at a distance by
the form of the "spout." This rises in two separate
streams, which are, however, united into one as they ascend
and expand. At the top it disperses freely into vapour,
and looks larger than that emitted by any of the other
species of large whale. It "drifts" out at once into a
puffy ball of spray. An apt description by the whale
captains is that the "blow" is "like the smoke of a cigar."
When moving to windward the respiration dissolves into
smoke at once, and almost obscures the animal. In still
water it rises to a height of 12 to 15 feet. Scammon says
20 feet and more ; but this is, I think, slightly exaggerated.
On rising to the surface the number of respirations is ex-
ceedingly variable, more so in fact than in any of the larger

' Sometimes called Thysanopoda inermis.

^ Mr. Southwell mentions a case of a Humpback Whale which was found dead
after indulging too freely on cormorants. A7in. Scot. A'a/. Hist.^ April 1904, p. 86.

182 NEWFOUNDLAND

species of whales. " Sometimes the animal," says Scammon
(p. 42), "blows only once, at another time six, eight or ten,
and from that up to fifteen or twenty times," This is, I
think, correct. A Humpback which I observed on the
Greenbank, Newfoundland, spouted eight, ten, and twelve
times. The periods of absence under water during the big
dives average about five minutes. Baer, Lilljeborg, Jouan,
and Racovitza all bear testimony to the warm and foetid
breath of this whale. In fact all the large whales are foul
in this respect, the Humpback particularly so." ^

The Norwegians considered this a somewhat difficult
animal to kill and by far the most dangerous whale to
lance, not even excepting the Sperm. Unless mortally
struck it rushes off at great speed and dashes about in an
irresponsible manner, at one time forming great circles, at
another heading straight for the ship.

Humpbacks sometimes give trouble when struck too high
in the body or only slightly wounded, and several serious
accidents have occurred both to steamers and to the men
in the small "prams" when trying to lance the wounded
whale. OwinCT to its sudden rushes and free use of tail
and pectorals the Humpback is more feared by the Norwegian
whalemen than any other species. The following authentic
instances have been given to me by Norwegian captains : —

In May 1903 the whaling steamer Minerva., under Captain
Johan Petersen, hunting from the station in Isafjord, made
up to and struck a bull Humpback. The beast was wild, so
they fired two harpoons into it, both of which were well
placed. In the dim light the captain and two men went
off in the " pram " to lance the wounded whale, when the
latter suddenly smashed its tail downwards, breaking the
' " The Mammals of Great Britain and Ireland," vol. iii.

MODERN FIN-WHALING 183

boat to pieces, killing the captain and one man, and breaking
the leg of the other. The last named was, however, rescued
clinging to some spars.

A most curious accident happened on the coast of Finmark
about ten years ago. A steamer had just got fast to a
Humpback, which, in one of its mad rushes, broke through
the side of the vessel at the coal bunkers, thus allowing
a great inrush of water which put out the fires and sunk
the ship in three minutes. The crew had just time to float
the boats and were rescued by another whaler some hours
later.

Other whales which are occasional visitors to Newfound-
land are the Lesser Rorqual {^Balcenoptera rostrata), the Pilot
Whale {Globicephalus melas), and the Sperm Whale {Physeier
tnacrocephalus), of which a few males are killed annually.
Until 1830 the Southern Right Whale {^Balcena australis)
was an irregular visitor, but of late years it has not been
observed although still known about Long Island, New
York State.

CHAPTER IX

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE

On reaching the whale factory of St. Lawrence, on 15th
August, I found the most perfect plant for the manufacture of
whale products. Even the land about the buildings had been
dressed with whale-guano, and was growing a crop of hay
that any English farmer might have envied. St. Lawrence
is an up-to-date whale factory under the immediate super-
vision of Dr. Rismulier, the German-American scientist, who
has done more for whaling and the use of whale products
than any other living man. To him is owed the utilisation
of every part of the whale, including the flesh, the blood and
liver, and parts of the skin which were only regarded as
wastage a few years ago.

The cost of building and running a whale factory is very
great. The outlay on the buildings, engines, steamer and
appurtenances, and boiling houses cost from ^8000 to
^10,000; labour and coal for one season, ^800 — so that a
good supply of whales is necessary to make the business
pay. In addition to this the Government charges an annual
licence of ;^300 per factory.

The manager told me that they had not killed a Blue
Whale (Sulphur-Bottom) since May, and that my chance of
seeing one was most remote, even if the fog lifted. The
hunting steamer was to leave in the evening for a cruise, and
might be away for any time from one to six days, so I made
a few preparations, and went aboard as the sun was setting.

184

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE 185

The little steamers used in the pursuit of the Balccn-
optera are vessels of about loo tons burthen and 95 feet
in length. They can steam fast — from twelve to fifteen knots
— and can turn in their own length. Up in the bows is the
heavy swivel gun which has back and front sights. The
charge is half a- pound of powder. The harpoon is four and
a half feet long, furnished with a diamond-shaped head,
which flies open when the time-fuse explodes. The main
shaft has four iron flukes which are tied with string, and
these open and anchor the main shaft in the whale on the
explosion. The after part of this iron shaft is divided, and
in this opening runs the iron ring to which is attached a
strong manilla rope, two or three inches in diameter. It is
unusual to fire at a whale at greater distance than forty
yards, the shots being generally taken at about ten to twenty
yards range. To the uninitiated, it may seem difficult to
miss a huge creature like a whale at a distance of twenty
yards, but such is often the case, as the roll and pitch of
the ship, which in these vessels is very quick, renders
accurate shooting by no means easy.

The crew of the St. Lawrence consisted of — Captain
Nilsen, who was also first gunner; a mate, Christian Johanes-
sen ; an engineer, and four seamen, each of whom could take
any part, from shooting the whales to cooking the dinner.
They were all Norwegians, and very cheery, modest fellows.
I felt I would like to sail about the world amongst unvisited
places, and hunt all kinds of wild beasts, with none but
Norwegians as my companions. They are the best of all
comrades, always good-natured, loving sport, especially if it
is dangerous, and absolutely self-reliant.

We steamed out of the harbour of Little St. Lawrence
at 9 P.M., and at once entered dense fog and a heavy swell.

186 NEWFOUNDLAND

The vessel pitched so abominably that sleep was out of the
question. Next morning we were about thirty miles off,
steaming about, and peering through the mist without seeing
a single spout ; and the next day was but a repetition of the
previous one. On the third night it began to blow great
guns, and I was flung out of the bunk right across the
cabin, narrowly escaping some broken ribs ; at any rate I
was sore for a week afterwards.

Those who have been across the Atlantic in a breeze in
one of the great floating palaces have no conception of what
it meant to weather out half a gale in a little 95-foot whaler.
On the one you can sleep, walk, and eat in comfort ; in the
other you are tossed about like a floating cork. Once, whilst
crossing the cabin, I was flung clean up to the ceiling, and
just saved my head from striking the wood by putting up
my arm. The only way to obtain any rest was to be nailed
in one's bunk, which, with straps and ties, I did with com-
parative success.

During the third night Captain Nilsen decided to run to
the coast for shelter, and we only reached a pretty little bay,
called Petty Fort, in time, for it was now blowing a full
gale. Here we lay for twelve hours, and I went ashore
to try and buy some fresh meat, as a diet of salt junk,
ship-biscuit, and doubtful coffee had somewhat chilled my
enthusiasm.

Sheep were scarce, and the houses of the owners had to
be hunted for amongst the rocks, there being no roads ; but
at last I discovered a man whose wife, he said, would be
only too willing to sell me a lamb. The good lady, however,
at first refused point-blank to sell, as she required the four
she possessed for her winter knitting. A loud argument
now ensued between the wife and her lord and master, each

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE 187

taking opposite views, till at last the man seized her and
retired to the next room, where the discussion became so
heated that I feared it would end in blows, so I rose to
interfere. It appeared that the woman did not wish to sell
the lamb, but if she did she could not possibly ask more
than one dollar (about 4s. 6d.) for it ; a price she considered
it doubtful I would pay. " Besides," she added, " it's as wild
as a deer, and no one can catch it." Finally I was allowed
to have the lamb if I could catch it, and would return the
skin to her ; a decision which pleased all parties. The woman
had said the lamb was wild ; it was wild — as wild as a hawk.
The captain and I pursued that wretched animal amongst the
hills, the woods, and the rocks for the best part of two hours.
I longed for my rifle, but it was far away, and we had to
resort to the armament of primeval man, with which we were
at last successful. Next morning at breakfast the captain,
the mate, and I devoured the whole lamb in a few minutes,
and we then understood why the price was one dollar.

At midday the glass went up rapidly, and the captain
said that though there was much sea outside, fine weather
might be expected in a few hours. It was, therefore, his
intention to steam right out about seventy miles south-west
to the Saint Pierre bank, off the coast of St. Pierre, where
he expected to find Finbacks and, perhaps, a Blue Whale.
Next morning we were on our hunting ground. The sea
had moderated considerably, and the air was clear. We
could now see for several miles, and soon observed two Fin-
backs of moderate size. These we pursued for three hours,
but they were both exceedingly wild and quite unapproach-
able. When " kril " is scarce whales always travel fast and
make long dives, and it is difficult to make up before they
dive again ; also if the steamer is put after the quarry at full

188 NEWFOUNDLAND

speed it makes some noise which the whales hear and, in
consequence, accelerate their speed. In the afternoon we
found a very large Finback, whose course was followed by a
cloud of Leach's Petrel. At one time, as the whale dived
slowly in a mass of " kril," these birds were to be seen
gathering in a perfect swarm in its wake, and picking the
floating Crustacea off the sea. It was a most interesting
sight, and I made a sketch of it, which is given here. How-
ever, the whale defeated us just as we seemed about to get
a shot, and as evening drew on we lost it.

Friday, i8th August, is one of the red-letter days of my
life, so I give it just as it is entered in my diary.

During the night the captain decided to steam right out
for the Greenbank (about one hundred and twenty miles due
south of St. Lawrence). The wind had fallen, and I was
eating my breakfast and reading Dickens, when at 9 a.m. I
heard the engines slow down, and knew that meant whales,
so I ran on deck.

It was a glorious morning, with bright sun and the sea
like oil. Far ahead were two spouts of silvery spray, and
as we approached I could see they were higher than those
of Finbacks.

"Yes, those are Blaa-hval" (Blue Whales), said Johanes-
sen, "and we shall kill to-day."

We were within three hundred yards of the larger of the
two whales when it rolled over, showing its enormous tail,
and disappeared for the "big" dive.

"That's a ninety-foot bull," said the captain, as I stood
beside the gun. His eyes glistened as he swayed the swivel
to and fro to make sure that the engine of destruction worked
well. Both whales were under the sea for a quarter of an

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE 189

hour by my watch, and then burst up about a quarter of a
mile ahead, throwing a cloud of spray thirty feet into the air.

" Full speed ahead and then ' safte ' " (slowly), and we ran
up to within fifty yards of the rolling slate monsters, which
were now travelling fast, although not wild. When a shot
seemed imminent they both disappeared from view, after about
twelve surface dives, and we lost them again for another ten
minutes. When next viewed the larger whale was half a
mile astern, so we turned and went for him again, only
reaching the animal in time to see him disappear for the
third time. The actual big dives of this whale lasted lo, 15,
14, 12^, and 20 minutes, and we then left him, as the captain
considered the other one might be tamer. This, however,
did not prove to be the case. Whilst racing to cut off the
whale during its surface appearance we spied a third Blue
Whale spouting about half a mile to the east, so the order
to turn was given, and we approached and hunted it (another
bull) for some time. Luck seemed quite against us, when the
Blue Whale was suddenly joined by two very large Finbacks
which we had not previously seen. The advent of these new-
comers seemed to quiet the larger animal. They made several
dives, and then disappeared almost under our bows, and yet
passing onward, so that a shot seemed certain if they rose
again.

It was a moment of intense excitement when the two Fin-
backs rose right in front of the bows and within easy shot,
but the captain and I were gazing fixedly into the green and
clear depths, looking for the Blue Whale, when far away down
beneath the water I saw a great copper-grey form rising
rapidly right underneath the ship. The captain signalled with
his hand to the man at the wheel on the bridge, turning the
vessel off a point just as the ghostly form of the whale,

190 NEWFOUNDLAND

growing larger and larger every moment until it seemed as
big as the ship, burst on the surface beside us, and broke
the water within ten yards. In a moment we were drenched
in blinding spray as the whale spouted in our faces. I turned
my arm to protect my camera and to click the shutter as the
captain fired his gun. The latter planted the harpoon fairly
in the grreat creature's lunofs.

"Fast!" yelled the cook, who had rushed on deck bran-
dishing a kettle of potatoes in one hand. Crimson flecks of
blood floating on the emerald sea alone told of the success
of the shot. When the crew had seen all they wished then
there was a lull of silence. The captain heaved a sigh, the
sigh of one who obtains relief after some tense and long-
drawn strain. Nothing was heard except the flop, flop of
the line as it rolled slowly out, and the movement of the
men as they ran quietly to their posts beside the steam -
winch and the line-coil down below.

" Was that a death-shot ? " I asked the captain.

" Don't know, sir," he answered ; " I think it run a bit.
The bomb did not burst."

It was so. The line at first slowly dribbled out, and
then it began to go faster and faster, until it rushed from
the bow at such speed that I thought it would catch fire.

" He's going to travel now," said Nilsen, pulling me
away from the smoking rope. " You must not stand there.
If the rope breaks you might get killed."

We repaired to the bridge to get a better view.

" Two lines gone now " (about 500 yards), said my
companion. " I fear I hit him too far back."

At this moment all eyes were riveted on a great com-
motion in the sea about 500 yards away. The next instant
the whale appeared, rolling and fighting on the surface.

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE 191

It lashed the sea into white spume with its flippers and
raised its head frequently right out of the water, opening
its immense jaws. The leviathan of the deep was fighting
hard with death, but the harpoon had penetrated its vitals,
and its struggles only lasted about two minutes. Soon it
grew weaker and weaker, until, casting forth a thin spout
of red blood, it threw up its tail and sank in one mighty
swirl.

The first operation in raising the dead whale from the
bottom is to take in the slack line. This is done by one
man mounting the rigging and placing the rope over a
strong running pulley, which receives play by means of a
powerful spring or heavy lead concealed in the hold of the
ship. At first all is easy, and then the line receives a
tremendous strain as it lifts the carcase from the depths.

The winch is set in motion, and with each rise of the
ship we notice the " give " of the line and the utility of the
spring which prevents the strain being either sudden or
excessive.

For half-aa-hour the powerful steam reel goes pounding
on until the finer line of the gun rope comes up over
the side. Then looking down you see the yellow grey
ghost appear far below in the limpid depths. In another
moment the mystery has developed into form, and the great
Blue Whale comes floating to the surface, with the hilt of
the harpoon buried in its side.

Johanessen now passes a rope over the tail whilst I
make some colour sketches and notes immediately after
death — an important point for the artist, as whales lose their
rich colour very rapidly, and are generally inaccurately
represented in books.

The rope on the tail is attached to a strong chain which

192 NEWFOUNDLAND

loops round the huge member and fastens it securely to the
bows of the ship. The flukes of the tail are now cut off.
We decide to look for another whale, so the carcase must
be set afloat. To achieve this it is necessary to blow it
up with steam. This is effected by driving a sharp hollow
spear into the stomach ; to this is attached a long rubber
hose pipe which connects with the engines of the ship. The
whale is then blown up with steam. As soon as a sufficient
quantity has entered the iron pipe is withdrawn and the hole
plugged with tow.

A long harpoon, on the top of which floats the Nor-
wegian flag, is now fixed to the carcase, and the floating
whale is cut adrift. The ensign can be seen twenty miles
away on a fine day.

It took us about half-an-hour to find the big bull which
we had hunted in the morning, and for three hours we pur-
sued him relentlessly but without success. No other whales
appearing in sight, the captain considered it best to return
and take our "kill" to port, as decomposition takes place
rapidly in these large cetaceans.

As we approached the carcase, Johanessen, who was stand-
ing beside me, suddenly exclaimed, " Look at the big shark ! "

There, sure enough, was the ugly head of a large shark,
tearing off great strips of blubber from the breast of the
whale. My companion at once rushed for one of the long
stabbing lances, but ere he could use it the shark had slipped
off and disappeared.

On the Labrador coast sharks and killers {Orca gladiator)
are so numerous and fierce that they will tear to pieces the
carcase of a floating whale in a very short time, so that
when a whale is shot it must be taken to the factory at once.
These wolves of the sea are so bold that they will tear at

THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE 193

a whale even when it is fastened to the ship, and Andersen,
one of the sailors of the Si. Laioreiice, told me he had killed
with the lance as many as ten killer whales in a few minutes,
by standing in the ship's bows.

Our arrival at Little St. Lawrence was hailed with delight,
for a " Sulphur " had not been slain since May. The present
example measured 78 feet, being considered a fair-sized adult
bull. On the following morning, after making some draw-
ings, I witnessed the whole process of disintegration. Every
part of the whale was utilised, even the blood, which ran
in rivers into a huge vat.

The various processes through which whales pass before
being converted into oil, fat, soap, and guano are not of
much interest to the general reader, so I will omit them.

With the man who devised the utilisation of these pro-
ducts, Dr. RismuUer, I spent eight days. He insisted on
my remaining as his guest, and gave me much valuable
information, his general knowledge of whales being very
considerable. The scientific attainments of Dr. Rismuller
are not appreciated in the New World as they should be.
In a society whose one aim and object is the rapid accumu-
lation of money, many things of this world that are of real
importance and interest are scarcely noticed, that is at the
time of their inception ; and so people go hurrying on, only
to find too late that they had had a great man in their midst
without their knowledge. If Dr. Rismuller had made a
fortune rapidly out of his discoveries, people in America,
Canada, and Newfoundland would have thought him a wonder-
fully " cute " fellow, and would have placed him on the pedestal
of fame allotted to successful trust magnates and other human
sharks, but as it is others have for the most part benefited by
his genius, and he is still comparatively a poor man.

CHAPTER X

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND

Before starting on my expedition into the interior it was
necessary to return to Placentia, where I met my friend, John
McGaw, and the three Newfoundlanders who had arranged
to accompany me. Two of these, Bob Saunders and Sandy
Butt, have already figured in these pages ; but the third man,
Frank Wells, I had only met once, although I knew him to
be a hard worker and a good man for woods or canoe. John
McGaw (a near neighbour of mine at Horsham) had expressed
a wish to visit Newfoundland, and had undertaken to study
geography, leaving all the arrangements in my hands. "He
travels fastest who travels alone " is one of the truest proverbs,
and I must confess that on most occasions I have had no wish
for a companion. Now, however, I made the exception, and
did not regret it. McGaw was a first-rate comrade, helping in
every way — an excellent shot too — a good hand at whatever
he turned to, whether in the line of carpentry, mapping, or
photography.

After seeing the canoes and provisions on board we left
Placentia in the Glencoe on 2nd September, and arrived at
Pushthrough, in Hermitage Bay, on the following evening.
Mountains rise from the shore of the south coast, and the
scenery would be fine if the timber were less stunted, but
exposed as it is to the southerly gales, the trees have not
much chance to grow to any size. After leaving Fortune Bay
there are only a few inhabitants along the coast. These are

194

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND 195

mostly concentrated at the cod-drying stations, such as St.
Jacques, Harbour Breton, and Gaultois, all pretty little vil-
lages nestling under wooded hills. At Pushthrough we found
lodging in a small grocer's shop, where McGaw and I had
to sleep in one very small and damp bed, out of which we
were in continuous danger of falling.

September 4 broke fine and clear, and with a rattling breeze
astern we fairly raced up Bale d'Espoir (Bay Despair) for fifty
miles in a small schooner which we had hired. As we ad-
vanced the scenery became more and more beautiful until we
reached the exit of the Conn River and the telegraph station,
where we were obliged to anchor in the middle of the bay
on account of the shallowness of the water. The owner of
the schooner having refused to proceed further, we were
forced to load up our canoes in the middle of the bay and
get aboard them in a good breeze, quite a ticklish business,
and one for which none of us had much relish. However,
this was safely accomplished, and we made for the shore at
top speed. Once there all danger was past, and we paddled
along happily to the head of the bay — a great sand-flat
covered with goosegrass, and the home of thousands of
Canada geese in spring. Just as we were about to enter
the river a boat was seen chasing in our wake, so I stopped
my canoe and was greeted by two men, one of whom —
evidently a Micmac Indian — introduced himself as Joe
Jeddore. Joe said that he could take me to see Mr.
Leslie, the telegraph operator at Conn River, whom I was
anxious to thank for certain inquiries he had undertaken
on my behalf; so giving my canoe to Frank Wells, and
telling him to make camp on the river, I entered the boat
and was rowed for two miles to the telegraph station, where
I met Mr. Leslie.

196 NEWFOUNDLAND

Mr. Leslie is the son of an English army doctor who had
fought at Waterloo, and himself a man of good education and
attainments ; he had isolated himself in this out-of-the-way
corner of the earth quite voluntarily. Bay Despair was indeed
a lonely place when he first came to it and built the station
twenty-five years ago. There were no inhabitants but the
Micmac Indians, who dearly loved him for his honest dealings,
and the wild geese which came in spring and the caribou
in winter. He is a man who despises civilisation in all
its ways. With poor pay as the operator of the telegraph
station of the Anglo-American Company, he had nevertheless
married twice, and supported a family of twenty-one souls.
The nature of the man may be signified by his lament to me
that Bay Despair was now getting "too crowded." He said
there were now no less than thirty to forty souls, mostly in
the employment of a saw-mill which had recently been started,
so he was on the look-out for some place where a man could
live in peace without being "hustled." His chief sorrow was
the threatened extinction of the Anglo-American Company,
which for so many years had been the only means of com-
munication of the Newfoundland people with the outer
world.

After a chat with Mr. and Mrs. Leslie, and a meal of
cloudberries and cream, I started through the dark woods in
the direction of camp, which I found on the banks of a small
river coming in at the head of the bay.

No travellers or hunters ever come this way, our sole
forerunners up the Bale d'Est waters being that old sports-
man. General Dashwood, who has now passed on, Alexander
Murray, and the ubiquitous Mr. Howley. General Dash-
wood and Mr. Howley had made the journey via the Baie
d'Est system up to Pipestone Lake, and thence to Crooked

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND 197

Lake, and so on to Noel Paul's Brook, and down the Exploits
to civilisation. It was this route that I meant to take ; but
after reaching Mount Cormack, the centre of Newfoundland,
I found the character of the country so uninteresting, the
prospects of stag-hunting so poor, and the fact that the
route had already been mapped by Howley, that I retreated
a short distance and turned east over the unknown country
at the headwaters of the Gander, and so worked on to my old
hunting grounds and the east coast.

It is impossible to refer to travel in Central Newfoundland
without mentioning the journey performed by W. E. Cormack
in 1822. As the exploit of Cormack is but little known
outside the knowledge of a few well-read Newfoundlanders, I
may briefly narrate his experience.

W. E. Cormack was born at St. John's in 1796; he spent
his school days in Scotland, and studied at Edinburgh and
Glasgow Universities. Between the years 18 19 and 1834 he
added greatly to our knowledge of the flora of North America,
being a good naturalist and a lover of nature. He also wrote
papers on fish and fisheries.

In 1836 he went to Australia, and cultivated tobacco
with success for two years ; then to New Zealand, where
he turned farmer. After this his restless spirit took him
to California, where he engaged in mercantile and mining
pursuits. After this he moved north, and established the
Agricultural Society of British Columbia. A great lover of
field sports, he numbered amongst his friends and corre-
spondents such scientific and literary men as Sir W. Hooker
and Professor Faraday. Though fond of writing, he left no
literary works. He died at Victoria, British Columbia, in
August 1 87 1.

There is a great deal of truth in Cormack's sarcastic

198 NEWFOUI)fDLAND

introduction to the short account ^ of his remarkable journey
across Newfoundland : —

"Early in the spring of 1822, being in Newfoundland, a
far-famed country, in which I felt a most lively interest, and
free from professional engagements, I determined upon ex-
ploring the interior of this island, a region almost totally
unknown, and concerning which and its inhabitants, the Red
Indians, who were supposed to occupy the whole of it, the
most besotted conjectures were entertained, particularly by the
chief delegated public authorities, to which quarter one was
inclined to look for some proofs of a feeling of interest for the
condition of the country, through the means of which they
obtai?ted their bread."

To a great extent the same may be said in the year of
grace 1905.

After a preliminary run to test the stability of the Indian
Sylvester, he added one European to his party ; those in
authority in the island proved most unfriendly to Cormack.
He says (p. 6) : " It is necessary to mention that the chief
Government authority was opposed to the project — and with
which he was made acquainted — of obtaining a knowledge of
the interior of the country. In consequence of this I was
deprived of the services of the European who was, unfortu-
nately for me, a stipendiary by local appointment, and I could
not add to my party either by hiring or obtaining a volunteer."
Notwithstanding this obstacle, Cormack started from Trinity
Bay in September 1822.

When the explorer arrived at the centre of the island, his
Indian wished to make for the south coast, but encouraged by
promises, &c., he persevered on beside his master. He then

1 " Narrative of a Journey across the Island of Newfoundland," by W. E.
Cormack. The only one ever performed by a European. St. John's, 1873.

.^.^^

ii^ ''is*- •-

^-^ --^ -iSiW *

^^^ ^i.

.^ ^^ -^^

Harbingers ok Winter

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND 199

met a single old mountaineer Indian, James John, from
Labrador, who was friendly and helpful. The Red Indians
or Beothicks were six or seven miles to the north at that
season, whilst the Micmacs were at Bay Despair. On 2nd
November Cormack brought his eventful journey to an end
at St. George's Bay, on the west coast.

Since Cormack's day great strides have been made in the
geological survey of the island by such able pioneers as
Alexander Murray and James Howley, especially the latter,
who, with a little assistance from the Government, has worked
with untiring zeal for many seasons to fill up the gaps in the
unwritten page ; and yet there is still much of the interior
which is unmapped and quite unknown, notably the wild
regions between Crooked Lake and La Poile to the south-
east from the White Bear River to the Victoria Lake.

On 5th September we commenced our journey into the
interior, having been joined at daybreak by Joe Jeddore, the
Micmac Indian, with six white packers whom Mr. Leslie
had engaged for me. After going for about two miles up
the river we took to the woods, the packers taking loads of
about eighty pounds each, and marching ahead at a good
rate. The necessity of employing these men became im-
perative, as it would have taken our four helpers at least
three days to have transported all the outfit and canoes over
the hills to Long Pond, a distance of six miles, and the first
of the long chain of lakes and streams that stretch two-thirds
of the way to the Red Indian Lake. From six in the morn-
ing till seven in the evening the men made three double
journeys, eighteen miles in all, and worked untiringly. Our
own men did two journeys, and at night we had brought all
the stuff and canoes across the range and through the forest,
and were comfortably camped on the shores of the big lake.

200 NEWFOUNDLAND

Long Pond is a large sheet of water, in character very similar
to all other Newfoundland lakes, possessing a wide and stony
beach, flanked by pines and deciduous trees.

In the forests are: — The white pine {Pinus alba), black
spruce {^Pinus nigra), red spruce {Pinus rubra, Piniis balsaniea,
Piiius microcarpa'), white birch {Betiila populifolia), black
birch {Betula lenta); poplars, locally called "haps," such as
Populus trepida and Popuhis grandidentata ; maples {Acer
rubrum, Acer striahun'), mountain ash or dog-wood {Sorbus
Americana), choke cherry {Prunus borealis), and small wild
cherry {Primus Peftsylvanica), hazel and alder {Alnus crispa).

The whole of the interior is covered with that lovely
flowering shrub, Kalmia Glauca.

Long Pond is a dangerous lake to cross. Being high
and open, the wind rises rapidly, and a slight breeze will
create such a " jabble " on the lee shore that canoeing must
be undertaken with caution. Two years previously Joe had
nearly lost his life in this lake. He was accompanying a
white man on a short hunting trip, and on his return the
lake "looked" easy to pass. To Joe's experienced eye, how-
ever, things seemed otherwise, and he advised waiting a
day till it was calm. His master, however, was in a hurry,
and decided to chance it, with the result that both boats
were flooded as they approached the southern shore, and
sank in about five feet of water. If the accident had
occurred two minutes earlier, all on board must have been
drowned.

Next day, accordingly, Joe shook his head when he spied
little white waves breaking on the distant shore, so we
remained till midday, afterwards making a start up shore to
the narrowest crossing place, about a mile and a half wide,
and the wind being slight, we paddled across in none too

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND 201

pleasant a sea. For my part I was glad when we landed with
only a little water in the boats. At once we entered the
Bale d'Est River, up which the men paddled, whilst McGaw
and I walked ahead in the hope of finding deer, but only
to find old summer spoor.

After a short portage we reached Soulis Ann Lake, where
I caught some ouananiche for supper. During the night
the wind and rain came on, and we were detained all the
next day and till midday on the 8th, when the wind abating,
we made a start along the lake. We were now in a " burnt "
country, and found the surroundings far from beautiful. As
far as the eye could reach from the lake shore to the bare
mountain ridges was nothing but one gaunt sea of bare poles,
the result of a great fire in 1893. Here and there the woods
were recovering in the shape of short thickets of birch or
scattered groups of spruce, firs, and larch, but the whole
aspect was most mournful, and I longed to get on to "timber"
where we might reasonably expect to kill a stag. At four
we passed Soulis Ann Lake, and continued our journey up
to Bale d'Est. The river here looked suitable for trout and
ouananiche, so, getting out our rods, we fished for an hour
and a half in two likely-looking pools, with great success.
The ouananiche fought splendidly, but seldom reached a
pound in weight, whilst the trout were a little larger. I
killed three dozen, the largest a trout of two and a half pounds.
In the evening we walked up the river, where the canoes met
us, and took us to camp on a spot we named Sandy Point,
on Brazil Pond. The sun set in a blaze of glory as we sat
over the fire and ate our meal of fish and tea.

The morning of the 5th September was beautifully clear
and sunny as we paddled merrily up Brazil Lake, until we
reached the short river which connects it with Little Burnt

202 NEWFOUNDLAND

Lake. Here we took out our rods and fished, although the
worst time of the day for such an operation, and soon had
enough ouananiche to feed our men for another day. At
the end of the Little Burnt Lake we again struck the Baie
d'Est River, which was now become exceedingly rocky and
difficult to neg^otiate. The stream beinsf low, the river was
nothing but a series of rocky levels, on which the men had to
be most careful with the canoes. It was in such places that
Joe exhibited his great superiority as a canoe man. Stand-
ing up in his boat, he poled it through rapids and past rocks
in a way that excited our wonder and admiration. The less
skilled white men were in the water all the time, hauling,
guiding, and lifting, and Little Bob distinguished himself by
falling out of his boat into the river. Consequently Joe was
always about half a mile ahead of his companions, for whom
he waited with a sort of patronising air. Sometimes they
tried to copy his method, but with indifferent success, either
through the poles breaking, or the stream, being too strong,
would turn the heads of their canoes round and land them
on a rock in mid-stream. However, as the red man passed
up stream with skill, the white men made up for it with
pluck and determination, and if they had a rough time
occasionally, it was all accepted with a never-failing good
nature that renders these simple people so acceptable to
those who employ them.

At sunset we reached green timber again in the shape
of Round Lake, the largest sheet of water in Central New-
foundland. It was shallow in many places, but, after going
two miles, we put into a beautiful little bay, and camped in
a forest of high trees. Fresh signs of deer were noticeable
on the beach, and there was every prospect of seeing big
game very soon. As we sat round the fire and spun yarns,

Joe Jeudore

ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND 203

enjoying our meal of ducks, fish, and tea, we all felt very
happy and comfortable. The roaring camp-fire of sticks
crackled and shed its grenial warmth. Out on the lake the
water was like a sheet of glass, except in a little bay where a
mother red-breasted merganser was teaching her young to dive.
From the distance came the swan-like trump of the Canada
geese, as they returned from berry-picking on the hills, and
now and again we could hear the melancholy " who-eee " of
the great northern divers as they settle for the night.

No pen could describe or brush convey any idea of that
crimson sunset, or the flood of golden light that bathed
the hills, the far-away islets, the tangled woods, and the
glassy lake.

We are led by some invisible hand from the heat and
turmoil of life to the beauty of space and the joys of
distance, into the cool, green places where no man comes.

Soon the golden ball sinks beneath the horizon, to be
succeeded by a short-lived twilight. The querulous loon is
uttering low-voiced calls to his mate, and grey phantoms rise
cloud-like in the evening mists, drifting away with clanking
voices into a land of silence. It is the day's departure, and
we turn to the incense of the larch smoke and the crackling
blaze of the burning logs. Then one drops to sleep on
a couch of scented "vars," amidst the lonely mountains of
the northland, with the starlight overhead.

It may seem strange to the town dwellers that there are
many men so constituted that the luxuries of civilisation
have no attraction for them, but it is no mystery to those
who have seen both sides of the picture. The outdoor man
has by far the best of it, for he leads the life that God and
Nature intended him to do. If his disappointments and
difficulties are great, his joys are intense, and he feels that

204 NEWFOUNDLAND

at any rate he has lived and known. One who has lived
much in that great world, where there is no pretence,
must feel chilled when he stands amid a gallery of cold
faces and listens to the vapid talk of men and women in
whose lives he cannot bear a part. In the wonders of the
eternal forests those vast spaces are real and earnest, whilst
the voices that speak to him are those of friends.

CHAPTER XI

THE MOUNT CORMACK REGION AND HISTORY OF THE
NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS

Round Lake is another somewhat dangerous sheet of water
to circumvent in light canoes, so we had to be careful next
morning, as a fair breeze was blowing astern when we headed
northwards along the western shore. I was in front with
Joe, for we expected to see a stag at any moment, and fresh
meat was now becoming a strong desideratum. About a
quarter to nine Joe raised his finger and pointed ahead.
"There's the stag," he said, "an he's travellin' fast."
The telescope revealed a fair stag still in the velvet,
walking with the smart, business-like step that means a
good 5|- miles an hour. He was going in the same direction
as ourselves along the lake beaches, and I saw that we should
have to make a considerable detour to head him and get
the wind. Hard paddling was now the order of the day,
so we put our backs into it and forged ahead to avoid a
group of small islands that lay between us and the deer.
In a quarter of an hour we were abreast of the stag. He
never stopped or looked about. After another ten minutes
we were about a quarter of a mile ahead, and decided to
cut in on to the land and head the beast. During this
manoeuvre the stag quickened his pace, and looking up
sharply, stood at gaze.

" Don't move a muscle," I said, as we stared each other
out of countenance at a distance of 400 yards. The stag

205

206 NEWFOUNDLAND

appeared satisfied and proceeded, and so were we. He
was now out of sight, and we rushed the canoe in for a
point where I knew our quarry would shortly come. McGaw,
who was watching the stalk from the lake, said that imme-
diately we disappeared the stag started at full gallop" for the
point where we met, much to my surprise, a moment later.
I could just see his head and horns as he peeped at me
from behind a tangle of fallen timber, and, knowing that
no better chance would offer, fired at once. The bullet cut
a wisp of hair from the stag's chin, and he made off up the
shore at full speed. I now ran to the point and lay down,
expecting him to stand before taking the woods. It was
as I hoped, and he slowly swung round at 150 yards and
gazed back before disappearing. The moment he stopped,
I fired and broke his spine. He was dead before we got
up to him. Pleasure was written in every countenance as
the canoes assembled, for we had meat now to last us for
a week at least, and meat means strength to man. The stag
carried a pretty head of twenty-five points, but the horns
were not large, so we did not take them.

The wind was rising fast, so, after loading the canoes
with all the meat we could carry, we proceeded, with some
difficulty, to the northern shore of the lake, where McGaw
and I went ashore for a walk, the boats following us. Here
we found three good outbreaks of raw petroleum. Some-
thing might be made of these wells, as well as the fine chrome
iron deposits which we saw later at Pipestone, were it not
for the difficulty of transport. At noon we entered a beautiful
"steady," and, after halting for the midday meal, we journeyed
on northwards up an unnamed small lake, which we called
Northern Diver Lake, from the numerous birds of this species
that frequented its waters. At one place we cornered four

McGaw Fishing

Portaging a Canok, Dead Man's Rapids

MOUNT CORMACK REGION 207

birds of this species in a shallow of the river at its northern
end, and, thinking that one might come up near the boats
as they broke back for the lake, I took McGaw's gun in my
hand. I had no sooner done so, than a large female almost
sprang into Joe's canoe, and he, striking at it with the paddle,
drove it to wing, when I easily shot it as it flew by. The
specimen proved a beautiful one in full summer plumage,
and was the largest I have seen. I think the American
form of the great northern diver is larger than the European
bird, of which I have shot many. Even where it is not
hunted, it is always the same strong and cunning creature,
and seldom gives man a chance of killing it.

Half a mile up a stiff bit of river brought us to a fine
steady, which eventually led into Shoal Pond, where we
camped for the night on a wooded island.

During the evening I had a long talk with Joe, who held
out no prospect of seeing good stags after we should pass
Pipestone Lake and Mount Cormack, which we hoped to
reach in two days. Moreover, he said the country was
barren and desolate to Noel Paul's Brook, and that we
should reach civilisation too soon if we pursued that route.
Moreover, the main features of this country had been mapped
out by Howley, so we determined only to visit Mount
Cormack, about whose geographical position I was doubtful,
and from thence to return to Shoal Pond, where we were
now camped, and afterwards to strike east over the unknown
country towards Burnt Hill. Thence we could easily reach
my old hunting-grounds on the Gander, and might expect to
get some fine heads before passing down stream to Glenwood.

Accordingly we " cached " the greater part of our stores
under a birch-bark " tilt," and proceeded on the following
morning with such impedimenta as would last us for a week.

208 NEWFOUNDLAND

A fine-looking deer country to the right of Shoal Lake
tempted us to put in a day there, and I ascended to the
top of a hill, from whence a splendid view was obtained
north as far as Cormack, east to Burnt Hill, and south to
Mount Bradshaw over Round Lake. Away to the west we
could see the White Mountains and great area of unknown
land as yet unmapped, and unvisited even by Indians.
McGaw ascended another ridge, and did some mapping.
We saw numbers of female and small caribou, but no stags,
these being still hidden in the dense woods.

The following day we continued our journey up stream,
the river becoming more and more difificult as we proceeded.
Shallow succeeded shallow until we reached a point known
as Dead Man's Rapids, where it was necessary to portage
everything for half a mile. Whilst McGaw and I walked
ahead, a fine stag broke out of the woods close to Sandy
Butt, and another was observed making across the river
when we stopped for lunch. For this one I ran hard,
trying to cut him off, but he rounded a bend out of sight
at 400 yards before I could get my rifle to work. At 3 p.m.
we reached a small unmarked lake which was so shallow that
we could only crawl along. Then ensued another steady,
and then a series of the worst rapids we had encountered.
In fact, it was impossible to get the canoes through them,
and so we carried round through the woods, finding ourselves
at Pipestone Lake at five o'clock.

Here the country was all burnt, and swarming with doe
caribou. Wherever we looked there were little parties dotted
about. We stalked two lots in the hope of finding a stag
for McGaw, but without success. One small party seemed
to be lost in a brown study on the shores of the lake, so
we thought we would have some fun with them, as the

Hauling over a Bad Place on the Baie d'Est

W0RK.ING UP THE Baie d'Kst Kivlk

'There goes Four Hundred Dollars 1"

No Dinner To-dav

MOUNT CORMACK REGION 209

canoes would shortly appear and scare them along the lake
shore towards us. McGaw, Joe, and I accordingly took
stones in our hands, and played at being ancient Britons,
just like naughty schoolboys. We lay in the caribou trail,
and, as soon as the canoe approached the deer near enough
for them to get the wind, there was a wild rattle of stones
and the game was rushing like a charge of cavalry down
upon us. All the five deer almost trod upon us as we
raised ourselves on our knees and saluted the attack with
a volley of rocks. One deer cleared Joe's head within a
few inches. Of course we did not hit anything, but enjoyed
the consternation and the sport as much as if we had slain
a noble hart.

As the sun was setting and the men were building camp,
more and more deer appeared. McGaw pursued one lot
that appeared to have a stag amongst them, but no stag
was there when he had headed them, so we went to bed
without any damage having been done except to a portion
of my knickerbockers which had tried conclusions with some
sharp rocks.

In the morning McGaw started for the end of the lake

with the intention of taking the height of Mount Cormack,

whilst I hunted an area to the east of Sit Down Lake, and

gradually worked round to the foot of Sit Down Mountain,

which I ascended to make some observations. During the

day we walked many miles, and encountered numbers of

doe caribou and a few young stags, but not one adult stag

was to be seen, a state of things I had quite expected. Not

so Joe, who had declared that we should find plenty of

stags out in the open ground at this season, and could not

now account for their absence. On questioning him closely,

I found that when he had been to Pipestone before, the

210 NEWFOUNDLAND

time was July and early August, a season at which the big
stags do move out of the woods, drawing from the rivers to
avoid the flies, and so the circumstances were easily explained.
Late in August the stags again take to the woods and
hardly ever show out except at early dawn, until the beginning
of the rutting season (20th September), and often not as early
as this.

As we were returning to camp we saw a wonderful thing.
I call it wonderful, because few men, even professional trappers,
have ever seen the beast — a veritable black fox, as black as
ink. We were descending a low range of hills, when right
in front of us, and, most unfortunately, dead down wind,
appeared the rarity. He saw us as quickly as we saw him,
and, like a flash, he whipped round, and, erecting his magni-
ficent brush of black and white, darted over the skyline and
was lost to view.

" There goes four hundred dollars ! " said Joe sadly. "Ah,
if we had only been fifty yards to the right, we should
have been out of sight and under the wind, and I could
have tolled him."

It was one of the most melancholy " ifs " I can remember
in my hunting experience. The Indians have a "call" or
" toll " for nearly every animal. They can bring a fox right
up to within 20 yards by making a sibilant noise produced
by sucking the back of the hand. Reynard takes it to be
the cry of a hare in difficulties, and seldom fails to advance
close to the sound. Stag caribou are "tolled" by grunting
loudly in two different ways, and this vocal effort requires
little skill or practice on the imitator's part, for the first
beast I tried it on answered at once, and came grunting up
close at hand.

The " herd " stag will quickly answer the caller and advance

Mount Cor.mack., the Centre ok Newfoundland

Mount Cukmack from Pipestone Lake

MOUNT CORMACK REGION 211

for a short distance, but the "travelling" stag will come very
close if the calls are properly made at suitable intervals. By
using the double grunt at short range, I have brought a stag to
within five yards of the stone behind which I was concealed.
Sometimes the Indians can attract an amorous stag by flicking
a white handkerchief from side to side at the edge of a wood.
The stag can see this at a considerable distance, and will some-
times come at full speed to the spot where the Indian lies
concealed — I saw this done once in the following year ; and
geese can also be called, when they first arrive in the spring,
by waving a white rag and imitating their "honking" call,
but after the first fortnight they take little notice of the lure.
A small white dog is also attractive to geese in the spring,
and one Indian I know of has killed numbers of these birds
by this method.

Beavers, when they have been undisturbed for long,
are very curious in relation to strange sounds. They will
come swimming out of their house even at the firing of a
gun. The Indians usually call them with a hissing noise,
or one produced by munching the lips. Another favourite
" toll " is a sound made by tapping the trousers with the
hand. The most successful beaver "caller" in Newfoundland
is John Bernard, or Johnny " Bow-an'-arrow " as he is named
by the Glenwood folk, who, when the season for the animals
was "open," killed great numbers by making a sound that
resembled the cutting of chips off a tree. It is said that
the unfortunate rodents never fail to respond to this noise.
John Bernard is the only Indian in the island who can
produce this seductive note. Most of the Indians kill
beaver by cutting down the "dam" and shooting the animals
as they come out of their "lodge" and holes — an easy
method. The Indian has no call for the lynx, but one or

212 NEAVFOUNDLAND

two of them can attract the otter by imitating its shrill
whistle.

Shortly after the departure of the black fox, we saw a
fine stag plunge into the Pipestone Lake and swim to the
other side. It was interesting to see how carefully he chose
his landing place. Instead of going directly to his point of
landing, he swam about fifty yards first to one side and then
to the other, so as to get the wind from the right quarter.
He then stepped cautiously on to the beach, and galloped
straight into the underbrush. A caribou stag in early
September is no fool.

McGaw returned in the evening from Mount Cormack
without having seen a stag, but with the knowledge that
the mountain is wrongly marked on the map. For it stands
right at the north point of Pipestone and only about one and
a half miles distant from the lake, instead of some four or five
miles due east, in which position it has been charted. As
far as I know, no one has visited this mountain since Cormack
was there in 1822, and so its position must have been marked,
like a good many others, from mere hearsay. We also found
a high mountain to the south-west, quite as high as Cormack,
and which we named Mount Frances. There were, too,
several new lakes to be seen from the top of Cormack and
Sit Down Hill.

After taking the heights of these hills, for they can
scarcely be designated as mountains, we left on the follow-
ing day to return to Shoal Lake. At daybreak Saunders
and Frank stood outside the camp and surveyed the
heavens.

" Guess we're goin' to have dirt to-day," said Little Bob
laconically.

"No, I think it's goin' to be civil,'' argued Frank, who

KiiUBEN Lewis, Head Chief of the Newfoun'dland Micmacs

MOUNT CORMACK REGION 213

was an optimist of the most pronounced type. But Frank
was wrong for once.

The word "civil" is used to express several meanings in
Newfoundland. The expression, " It's a civil day," is too
obvious to require explanation, but it is used in another
curious way, to signify "gaining sense or knowledge of a
thing." Thus Frank delivered himself one evening: —

" We'd an English captain here once that tried to shoot
deer on the best army principles, an' I couldn't get him cured
nohow. He'd get a small hill betwixt him and the stag, and
then make rushes in full view of any other deer that might
be about. When he'd come to de nex' mound he'd fall down
flat like he had de stummick ache and peek round expectin'
to see de stag, which by this time was travellin' up de
country. Then he'd look round sour-like, and ses he, ' Dese
caribou about de wildest deer I ever struck, and most difficult
to hunt.' But by-and-by he see army tactics warn't no use,
so he got kind d civilised, and used to say Newfun'lan' 'ud
make a fine training-ground for de British Army."

During the night the wind had shifted to the south, and
September 14th was one of the worst days I ever remember.
The rain descended in a perfect deluge, and we worried on
in the teeth of a gale till 5 p.m., when, soaked to the skin
in spite of our heavy sou'-westers, we arrived at the island
like so many drowned rats. Two or three times during the
day Joe wished us to put up, but I wished to press on as
the time was getting short, and we were anxious to reach
the stag country before the migration commenced. The
white men never said a word, but toiled away with the
canoes and at the portages with silent doggedness. In bad
weather or with rough work the two temperaments, that
of the white and the red man, are manifest. It may seem

214 NEWFOUNDLAND

strange to those that do not know them that the Indian,
who spends all his life in the woods, should dread bad
weather and hard work. But so it is. He will always stay
at home on a wet day, and fears to go abroad when changes
of temperature are going on. Joe, excellent fellow as he
was, cordially disliked getting wet, and the slightest chill or
illness gave him most gloomy forebodings. Nearly all Indians
are gluttons. Some can digest the enormous quantities of
fat they eat, and others get indigestion and are a prey to
melancholia. Joe was one of the latter, and when the results
of a too generous diet of deer fat were manifest, he would
come to us with a face of extreme woe.

" What's the matter, Joe ? " we would say.

" Ah, I have a lump like a lead ball just here," pressing
his diaphragm. " I am very bad. John Hans at Conn
River died of just such a thing last winter, and Joe Brazil
he "

" Let's look at your tongue," I would say, with my best
Harley Street manner. " Yes, to be sure, a case of Asiatic
cholera ; don't you think so. Jack ? "

McGaw, thus appealed to, would at once ratify my diagnosis
with a learned air, and go for the Burroughs & Wellcome
case. Two azure globules of the most body-rending descrip-
tion were then inserted in Joe's mouth, and next day he
would come up smiling.

On another occasion the results of a generous diet had
a bad effect on poor Joe, and he was in considerable pain.
The doctors put their heads together, and more by good
luck than good management effected another speedy cure
with some horrible compound whose name we could not
read on the bottle. After this our fame was established.

"You could make much money down at Conn River,"

MOUNT CORMACK REGION 215

said Joe to me one day. "We have no doctor there but
the priest. He knows lots, but he ain't got no medicines
Hke yours, pore fellow."

When he became melancholy Joe was always pitying
some one, either himself, the priest, the Government, or his
wife. A propos of his wife, I asked him one day if his wife
went with him trapping.

" No, not now ; she came once, but she got to stay at
home now to look after de apple-tree."

"Good gracious, what for?" I asked.

"Why, you see, I've got a fine apple-tree, the only one
in Conn River, and the fall she was in with me the ' beach '
boys got flinging stones, and smashed all my windows and
took the apples."

"But surely you don't care for the apples more than
your wife."

"Well, no, but I've got a pig — and what between watchin'
that apple-tree and feedin' de pig on squid, she don't have
no time to do nothin' else — pore woman."

It must not, however, be supposed that Joe was a melan-
choly individual ; on the contrary, he was generally full of
fun and laughter. He could see a joke as well as any man,
and his skill in woodcraft was exceptional. He was as lithe
and strong as a lynx, and could run over the marshes and
hills like a deer, and climb like a monkey. He was most
careful of stores and canoes, and when guiding was necessary
he proved himself to be a genuine guide.

I had an example of this on the morning after we arrived
at Shoal Lake Island, from where we were to start on the
following day up the Dog Lake Brook into the unknown
country. Joe had never been there before, and so he made
it his business to go and find out the condition of the brook

216 NEWFOUNDLAND

and its fitness or otherwise for canoes. He said nothing
to me, but at four the next morning I detected him lighting
his pipe by the fire. He slipped silently past my bed and,
making his way to a canoe, paddled away swiftly into the
darkness. At half-past eight Joe was sitting at breakfast
with the others. He had run six miles up the river and
back, twelve miles in all, and knew all about the stream. I
liked that, because it showed a strict attention to business
and proved that he had our interests at heart.

The heavy rains of the previous day had made it possible
for the canoes to be dragged up the brook, but they required
careful management, the men beingf in the water the whole
time. McGaw and I walked on ahead, reaching Little Dog
Lake about 4 p.m. Here we saw smoke curling up from the
lake shore, and knew this must be made by the two Matthews
boys, sons of Noel Matthews, a Micmac Indian who lived at
Bay Despair, and whose hunting-ground we were now passing
through. Accordingly I sent Joe to their camp to invite them
to accompany us for a week or eight days, to help us to pack
over the difficult country between the two watersheds. This
they agreed to do, and so met us on the following morning
by the brook side, where they at once took pack to help
lighten the canoes.

The two Matthews boys were regular wild Indians of
the woods. Martin, the eldest, was a youth of nineteen, with
a perfectly expressionless face and an insatiable appetite. I
have never seen a man eat so much in so short a time. A
stag breast and ribs were a comfortable meal for him, and
such trifles as cans of butter and milk seemed to disappear
down his capacious throat as if by magic. We possessed
some wonderful liquid called " St. Charles evaporated cream,"
and never fully understood its grandiloquent tide until Martin

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 217

got his fingers round a tin of it one day. All the odd pickings
of the camp went mouthwards as soon as they were spied,
and where food was concerned he was a veritable wolf. His
brother Michael was little inferior in the knife-and-fork line,
but he was of a more silent and retiring disposition. On the
whole, I forgave their expensive tastes, as they worked well
for us for eight days, carrying fairly heavy loads, and the
labours of our men would have been much harder had it not
been for their timely help. Each of the brothers possessed
a starved-looking Labrador retriever, clever, amiable beasts,
scarcely less hungry than their masters. Whilst this party
were in camp everything eatable had to be deposited in
the trees.

The following short account of the Micmacs since their
landing to the present day may be of interest to Newfound-
landers, who at the present have little knowledge of their
present numbers, movements, and habits.

The Micmac Indians, who are a branch of the Great
Algonquin race of Eastern Canada, first arrived in New-
foundland about the middle of the eighteenth century. They
were said to have been brought over to help to exterminate the
unfortunate Beothicks. But though I have no respect for the
early colonial administration of the island, I do not believe
that this was the real reason of their coming, but that more
readily explained causes contributed to their arrival. They
had probably heard, perhaps from the Mountaineer Indians
of the Labrador, who are themselves a branch of the ' Algon-
quins, of the excellent trapping and hunting to be found in
the island, and had come for that purpose.^ There is little

^ It will be noted by the reader that Cormack, on his first journey in 1822, met
a Mountaineer Indian, James John by name. The direct descendants of this
Indian live in Bay Despair at the present day.

218 NEWFOUNDLAND

doubt that for years after their arrival they entertained a
wholesome dread of the painted Beothicks, or Red Indians,
and left them severely alone in their hunting-grounds about
Red Indian Lake and to the northwards, themselves only
occupying places on the coast-line and working into the
interior by the Bale d'Est and Long Harbor and other
routes.

The Micmac Indians in Newfoundland, according to
Cormack (1822), amounted to 150 souls. These were dis-
persed in bands in the following places or districts, viz. St.
George's Harbour and Great Codroy River on the west
coast ; White Bear Bay and Bay Despair on the south-west ;
Clode Sound in Bonavista Bay on the east coast ; Gander
Bay on the north-east coast ; and a few at Bonne Bay
and Bay of Islands on the north-west coast. At this time
a few Mountaineer Indians from Labrador joined them,
and even Esquimaux from Labrador sometimes visited the
island.

Of the Micmacs there were twenty-seven to twenty-eight
families, averaging five to each family. They all followed
the same life, hunting and trapping in the interior. After
October they repaired to the sea-coast, and bartered their
furs for clothing, ammunition, tea, and rum.

During this period the Micmacs did not acknowledge
a chief, but certain members in each village were treated
with especial respect. They considered, and still do, that
Cape Breton is their home. Cormack speaks of the extra-
ordinary endurance of the Indians, and that in his day
individual hunters of great stamina could actually run down
a stag, a feat even now performed by the Mountaineer
Indians of Labrador. This could be done in a single day.
At first the stag easily outstrips its pursuer, but after a

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 219

run of four or five miles it slows down and is eventually
overtaken.

In 1822 the Micmacs were professedly Roman Catholics,
with a dash of the Totem Pole thrown in. They blended
their own particular ceremonies with the worship of God, and
were besides that very superstitious. To-day they are all
Roman Catholics, and show the greatest respect for their
priest, who lives in Harbour Breton and visits Conn River
twice a year for the purpose of holding the confessional,
receiving subscriptions to the Church, and performing mar-
riages. During these visits the Indians are very devout, and
listen to their pastor with close attention. They are very
generous with their money, and do whatever he tells them.
At Christmas Joe Jeddore is high priest, and conducts the
Sunday service.

It is a common saying in Newfoundland that the Indians
are dying out, but the following notes given to me by Joe
Jeddore and five other Indians speak for themselves. They
are not dying out, but have left certain old stations owing
to the pressure of the white man and the exhaustion of the
hunting-grounds in the neighbourhood of the coast and
railway. Consequently they have concentrated at the Conn
River in Bay Despair, and make this their headquarters, from
which they work the whole of the central portion of the main
island, south of the Red Indian Lake. Altogether there are
twenty-five families at Conn River to-day, consisting of about
125 souls. These, added to the few individuals in other
parts of Newfoundland, make a total very similar to that
given by Cormack in 1822. All the able-bodied men are
hunters and trappers. They also do a little lumbering in the
spring, and the routine of their lives is as follows. They live
at home in their houses from February to April, eating dried

220 NEWFOUNDLAND

fish, smoked caribou flesh, together with such civilised com-
modities as flour, bacon, tea, coffee, and sugar, which they
either exchange for furs with the Gaultois and Pushthrough
merchants or purchase with their fur money. In April some
of them go logging, and sell their timber to the mills, mend
their nets and traps, and do any odd work. During May,
June, July, and part of August, they fish about the bays,
creeks, and rivers, but never go to sea like the regular cod-men.
Much of this .fish is eaten ; the rest is salted for the dogs
and pigs.

In August the regular hunters take their packs on their
backs, and walk to their " tilts " or birch-bark shelters in the
interior. Here they have stores of food, ammunition, and
traps laid by. Some few, like the Matthews and Benoits,
proceed by boat. In August and September these Indians,
who generally live in pairs and share results, kill four or five
stags apiece. The hide they use for many purposes, and the
flesh is dried in the fire smoke for winter use. But their
principal quarry at this season is the black bear, of which they
kill considerable numbers. Their methods are as follows.
The hunter repairs at daybreak to the top of the highest
mountain, and there waits the whole day till sunset, overlooking
a wide area of burnt ground and blueberry patches. Sooner
or later Bruin will appear, and the Indian stalks to within
30 yards, and shoots him with his double-barrelled muzzle-
loader — the gun they all use. In 1903 Noel Matthews killed
seven in September at Crooked Lake, and in 1904 Nicholas
Jeddore slew nine in the same month near Burnt Hill.
Bears are in consequence becoming scarce in Newfoundland.
About 15th October the Indians set out their great circle of
traps (each circle being a round of about 5 miles); most of
these are the ordinary gins, but numbers are made for fox.

Net Otter Trap

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 221

lynx, marten, and otter, out of forest materials, and are shown
in my illustrations. The neatest of all is the wooden "dead-
fall," set for the otter.

From October to February the whole of Central New-
foundland is covered with traps, and, as Joe remarked, a
man could not go for twenty miles without having his dog
killed or caught by the foot, unless he keeps the animal
by his side.

At the end of October the hunters go out to their homes
on the coast, and then start in again in November to visit
their traps when the snow comes. They then re-set the
traps, put fresh baits, and kill a couple of caribou on the
way to the coast, their trained dogs hauling them. The
traps are visited again and re-set in January or February,
the dogs again hauling out one or two fat doe caribou to
the coast. Work in the interior then closes for the year,
though in February many of the Indians travel inland a
day's journey to the main herd of the wintering caribou, and
conduct a " surround." Caribou are in thousands near the
south coast at this season. The Indians depart at daybreak,
and after locating a herd of several hundreds in a valley
they occupy all the main trails leading out of it, and send
some one to move the deer. As soon as they are started
the caribou rush for the passes, where the Indians lie con-
cealed, and a considerable number are killed at short range
with guns loaded with swan-shot. On the whole, the Indians
are not wasteful in their methods, far less so than the white
man, as every part of a deer is used, and they never kill
one unless it is for some special purpose. I doubt if each
individual hunter shoots more than ten stag and ten does
in a season, and this is not an excessive number, since we
know how abundant the deer are.

222

NEWFOUNDLAND

The following is an accurate list of the Indian trappers,
and their respective hunting-grounds in Newfoundland: —

Frank Joe .

Little Frank Benoit

Paul Benoit

Frank Benoit

Ned Pullet

Noel Louis

John Benoit

Frank MacDonald

Ben Benoit

Noel Matthews )

Martin and Michael i

Noel Jeddore >

John Denny Jeddore (

Stephen Joe (stepbrother of Joe J.)

Joe Jeddore

Nicholas Jeddore

John Bernard

John Stride

Reuben Lewis .

Stephen Bernard

Peter John .

Micky John 1

Peter John )

John Hinx »

Paddy Hinx V

Johnny Hinx )

Mathew Burke (

Johnny Benoit i

John Barrington

Lewis John

Len Joe ....

Ben, Abraham, and Noel Paul

Matty Michel and son

Hunts Burgeo country and Western Maelpeg.

„ Spruce Pond, N\V. of Maelpeg.

,, Crooked Lake.

„ Crooked Lake.

,, Long Pond, between two W. Maelpegs.

„ Western Maelpeg.

„ Nimooch-wee-godie.

„ Godoleik (W. of Conn).

„ Island Pond, NW. of W. Maelpeg.

,, Crooked Lake.

Sandy Pond.

Burnt Hill and Podopekgutch.
Burnt Hill and Upper Gander.
Burnt Hill and Upper Gander.
Middle Ridge and Glenwood.
Northern side of Sylvester.
Kagudeck.

Sandy Pond and Shoe Hill Ridge.
Eastern Maelpeg.

St. John's Pond.

Wiskomonagodie, Eastern Partridge-
berry Hills, S. of Maelpeg.

Tolt and Piper's Hill Brook.

Eastern side of Tolt.
Eastern side of Tolt.
Grand Lake.
Exploits River.
Bonne Bay.

The Micmacs now acknowledge a local chief, although
they always refer all matters of extreme importance to the
head chief, John Dennis, who lives near Sydney, Nova
Scotia. In 1900, at the death of old Joe Bernard, Reuben
Lewis was elected as a probationary chief of the Newfound-

C/;:: I .^4

Trap for Lynx

To reach the bait it is necessary for the Lynx to place its

fore-paws on the trap

Trap for Fox or Martex
When set it is covered on the top with spruce

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 223

land Indians, and in June 1907 he will go in state with the
principal men of Conn River to Sydney and be invested
with the full right of chieftainship and the possession of
the gold medal which is the badge of office. I have been
invited to witness the ceremony, which is partly of a private
nature, followed by public feasting, dancing, and the wearing
of the old Indian dress, but, much to my regret, shall not
be able to see it.

Reuben Lewis is a quiet unassuming bachelor of about
forty years of age. He leads the same life as the other
Indians, and is generally accompanied by his sister, Souly
Ann, a lady of generous proportions. To him are referred
all questions and disputes about territorial trapping areas,
and he has the power to give decisions, which are always
regarded as final.

Reuben Lewis is one of the few men who has been
badly mauled by a black bear.^ He was hunting some ten
years ago with Noel Jeddore near Burnt Hill. Reuben fired
at a large dog bear, and badly wounded it. After tracking
for a short distance they saw the bear lying still, and Reuben
went up to it, and gave it a kick to see if life was extinct ;
the bear, which was far from being dead, sprang up and
seized the hunter by one leg, at the same time flinging his
gun out of reach. Reuben lay as still as he could, but the
bear chawed up both his legs and one hand, whilst Noel
ran round trying to fire, but fearful of wounding his friend.
At last Noel came so near that the bear dropped Reuben a
second to growl at him, and whilst doing so he obtained

' I can only hear of one other authentic instance of a black bear attacking a man.
About forty years ago a white man fired at a black bear on the shore near Bay
de Nord. He wounded it badly, and then foolishly put down his gun and went in
to kill it with an axe. The bear attacked him and bit him to death. Both com-
batants were found lying together.

224 NEWFOUNDLAND

a shot and dropped the bear dead. After some weeks in
camp Reuben walked out to the coast and had completely
recovered in three months.

The Micmacs live to a good old age, for old John Bernard,
" doyen " of the community, is eighty-seven, and can see and
walk almost as well as a man of thirty. Noel Matthews, whom
I saw in Bay Despair, is another fine specimen. He accom-
panied Mr. Howley in several of his arduous journeys. He
is seventy years of age, and is still the most skilled man in
a canoe in the island. He goes "furring" and packing just
as he has always done. Until recently another remarkable
old man was Louis John, aged eighty-one, but he went in
as usual in 1906, and dropped dead one day as he was lifting
his load.

The curse of the Indian is cheap rum, and nearly all the
young men drink hard when they get the opportunity. It is
no uncommon thing for a trapper to make from 300 to 500
dollars in the course of a season's work, and to waste it all
during a few days' debauch. This is all the more deplorable
because very often white fur-traders encourage the Indians
to drink as soon as they have concluded a deal, and cheat the
unfortunate men if they once fall into their clutches. Many
of the Indians, too, wander away with two or three bottles
of rum in their pockets, and after being dead drunk lie out
for days in the rain and snow, when severe chills are
contracted, which are generally followed by consumption.
Numbers die of phthisis and measles, and the mortality is
high. It should be made a penal offence to sell rum to
Indians. Yet the Indian, even when a habitual drinker, has
marvellous self-control. The late chief, Joe Bernard, drank
heavily until he was made chief, and then gave it up. The pre-
sent chief, Reuben Lewis, was also of a Bacchanalian tendency,

The Source of the Gander

Joe Testing the Wind

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 225

until he received word from Sydney that he must abandon
the habit on being elected, which he has done. It will give
the reader some idea of the fearful mortality which prevails
arriongst these people from the above-mentioned causes, when
it is stated that Steve Bernard, my hunter in 1906, was the
sole survivor of eleven strong children. Drink, consumption,
strains, measles, and carelessness had killed them all except
Steve before they came to the age of twenty-one.

I am well aware that nothing one man can say, however
true, will have the smallest effect on the Government of a
country when that Government has to listen, as it always
does, to the "Vox populi " and to regard it as the "Vox
Dei." Such a voice, however, is often only the cry of cruelty
and oppression. But at the same time I consider that the
Indians have "rights" — rights which have come to them by
custom and inheritance, just as much as to the white man,
and that within reason these should be respected, before
a tribe has been completely exterminated by war, disease,
and rum. English and other Governments always become
sentimental and kind-hearted when a race is nearly extinct,
since then there is no fear of future political complications.
But is not this the very essence of selfishness? and would it not
be better to try and make the original owners of the soil our
friends instead of our enemies, by treating them with a little
consideration, a little common sense, and a little knowledge of
their manifest weaknesses ? By so doing we might show them
that there is some force in the arguments of Christianity over
the Totem Pole. The half-breed Micmacs of Newfoundland
are the most amiable and law-abiding of the North American
tribes, and it should be the duty of the Government to know
more of these people, to understand their rights in the different
trapping areas, to keep in close touch with their chief, and

226 NEWFOUNDLAND

to enforce laws by which it will be a criminal offence to sell
them a siftgle drop of liquor}

The sanctity of their trapping-grounds is considered
inviolate by the Micmacs. They live on fairly good terms
with the Newfoundlanders, but let another Indian or a
white man come into their trapping area for the purpose
of taking fur, and the amiable red man is at once trans-
formed into a demon of rage and jealousy. I only saw Joe
angry on one occasion, and that was when we were descend-
ing a rocky hill to the Gander, some distance above Rolling
Fall, when we found two lynx traps made during the
previous winter. Joe's eyes blazed, and he gave a grunt
of fierce dissatisfaction. When we got to camp he put down
my rifle carefully and disappeared into the woods, returning
some ten minutes afterwards with a face of thunder and
lightning.

"It is as I thought," he hissed; "they have killed my
beavers, and I will get even with the devils," only he did
not say devils. Then he proceeded to let loose his passion
on the white trappers who had for the first time ascended
the Gander, a province which Joe considered his exclusive
right, and poured such a torrent of threats and abuse on
their heads that I have seldom heard. I think that some-
thing will happen to the boats of those unfortunates next
time they move into the interior, if nothing worse occurs.

"Joe is a very good fellow," said Little Bob later, "but
I should not care to meet him alone in the winter if I had
a pack of 'fur' on my back," a sentiment in which both
Frank and Sandy cordially acquiesced. In fact the New-

' In British Columbia it is an ofifence punishable by severe penalty or imprison-
ment to sell liquor to Indians. Why should not this be done in Newfoundland?
Surely the people are as sensible and humane.

Four Photographs showing Various Methods ok Spying

HISTORY OF NEWFOUNDLAND MICMACS 227

foundlanders generally regard the Indian with some fear
and distrust. Indians either like you very much or they
do not like you at all, and will leave you to starve in the
woods. Personally I saw nothing to be alarmed at in Joe's
attitude. " Furring " was his sole means of livelihood, and as
he had first found the hunting-ground and could get no
other if it were spoilt, he naturally was incensed at the
incursion of white men whose business, he considered, was
amongst the ships. " The coast is the white man's ; the
woods are ours," is the Micmacs' motto.

On 1 6th September we continued our journey eastwards,
McGaw and I walking ahead as usual. At noon a broad
sheet of water came into view, which from its shape and
size I knew to be Dog Lake. After a cup of tea and a
short rest, my friend and I set off into the country to try
and procure some meat, which we had been without for
two days. The ground was terribly swampy and broken,
and the walking extremely arduous. After going for about
three miles I ascended a larch tree and immediately spied a
string of five doe caribou moving round the edge of a small
copse. The wind was right, so we advanced rapidly upon
them, and as McGaw under his licence was not allowed to
kill a doe, I took the shot at 80 yards and dropped the
best deer. Each of us then shouldered a haunch and made
our way to camp with frequent stoppings for rest. Here
the men soon turned up with the canoes, and we all
had a glorious feast, the Matthews boys swallowing great
chunks of flesh as if they had not eaten for a week. In
the evening we got aboard, and paddled swiftly to the
northern end of Dog Lake, from whence our long " pack "
was to commence.

CHAPTER XII

DISCOVERY OF THE SOURCE OF THE GANDER AND
INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING IN THE TIMBER

Nothing in the universe is so attractive as the unknown.
To the man of imagination it is the great magnet which
draws him away to seek fresh worlds to conquer. There
is in the very sound of the word that hidden mystery that
"tinges the sober aspect of the present with colour of
romance," and no one, however dull, is ever quite romance
proof. In consequence, men rush wildly at the North Pole and
after other unconquered fields, although the results achieved
are often out of all proportion to the labour involved.

It may seem strange to the reader that there should still
be unexplored districts in a small island like Newfoundland
which has so long been a British colony, and yet it is a
fact that out of a total area of 42,000 square miles, at least
two-thirds of the country is still as little known as it was
when John Cabot landed. The island has an entire length
of 317 miles and a breadth of 315 miles; but, broadly speak-
ing, all that is known of the interior is a five-mile strip from
the coast where its population of 250,000 dwells, and the
main waterways which have been principally mapped by
Murray and Howley since the year 1870. The reason of
this want of knowledge is easily explained. Horses cannot
go far in because there is no grass except on a few of the
more slow-moving rivers, and men can only carry on their
backs supplies for a short journey. But the principal reason,

228

DISCOVERY OF SOURCE OF THE GANDER 229

at least it seems so to me, is that the Newfoundlander being
purely a fisherman, and delighting only in the acquisition of
the harvest of the sea, knows and cares little about possible
farm lands. Moreover, he has always been unable to build
light draught canoes of tough wood, because no wood capable
of withstanding the rocks of the rivers is to be found in the
island. He is also clumsy in the rivers, and unable to use
a pole like the Indians. Perhaps he gets a few miles up an
easy river in his punt, but on meeting with difficulties, such
as the breaking of his soft wood boat, readily gives up the
task. He has any amount of pluck, but no skill on the rivers.
Though all at home at sea, he is all at sea at home.

The little bit of unknown we were about to enter had
only been traversed by one man, a miner named Guzman,
who crossed from Bay Despair in 1875, led by Nicholas
Jeddore, Joe's father. Mr. Howley had ascended the Gander
on foot, and had reached Burnt Hill, which we could now
see about twenty miles to the east, and Alexander Murray
had surveyed and marked Partridgeberry Hill, the highest
mountain in Central Newfoundland, having reached it by
packing across from Round Bond. The country between the
Upper Gander and Dog Lake was unmapped and unknown,
a space of about fifteen miles in a straight line left blank.
Actually we found that this unknown area was about twenty-
five miles broad. It really meant about forty miles of walk-
ing, as it was necessary to keep on the high ground to the
south, so as to avoid the swamps. Our men therefore could
rely on little help in the way of water during their thirty
miles journey, for they must follow the valley route and
carry everything on their backs for the greater part of the
distance.

Accordingly I determined to divide the party. Taking the

230 NEWFOUNDLAND

three Indians and Saunders with McGaw and myself, we were
to go right on to a spot where I knew there was good
hunting on the Upper Gander. Then McGaw and I would
go into camp alone for a week or ten days, and send the
Indians and Saunders back towards Dog Lake to assist Sandy
and Frank, who were meanwhile to get as far as possible.
This theory seemed to be the best plan, as not only could
we survey the easiest route for the packers and canoes
to follow, but we should probably kill some deer on the
way. The meat of these could be eaten by the men, and
their position pointed out by Joe, who was first of all to
accompany us.

We made an early start, and after going a mile or two,
skirted to the south-east to avoid swamps. Here we noticed
a small brook flowing eastwards, and being the first water
travelling in this direction, we decided to follow it up to its
source, which was found in a small still pool, and which we
knew must be the source of the Gander. This little brook
emptied into a pretty lake about two miles long which, having
no name, I christened Lake McGaw. By existing maps the
Gander stops under or to the eastwards of Burnt Hill, but
as a matter of fact there is a continuous stream, albeit small
in summer, through the small chain of lakes to within half a
mile of Dog Lake.

After photographing our discovery we ascended rough
ground through burnt timber and over rocks for two miles,
and then found ourselves on the shoulder of Partridgeberry
Hill. Joe was setting the pace, a "cracker" in spite of his
8o-lb. pack, and being so "sassy" I suggested an ascent to
the top of the mountain, from which point we could take
observations and see the best line for future progress. No
sooner said than done, though the two Indian boys and

DISCOVERY OF SOURCE OF THE GANDER 231

Saunders laeeed behind ; we made the summit in half-an-
hour. The day being fine, there was a magnificent view in
every direction. All the main features of Central Newfound-
land were plainly visible ; Cormack, Sit Down, and Shoal
Lake Look-out were easily distinguished to the north-west ;
Bradshaw Mountain, and even the hills across Round Pond,
to the west ; whilst to the north-east Joe Migwell's Mountain,
and even Blue Hill, seventy miles away, was shining through
the blue haze.

At our feet was one long valley stretching from Dog Lake
to Burnt Hill, twelve or fourteen miles due east, where the
main Gander forests commence. A long strip to the north-
east was burnt timber, and this blackened forest extended to
Great Rattling Brook, and so goes on to the railway at
Badger's Brook.

Immediately beneath lay three lakes, McGaw's, Rocky
Pond, and John Jeddore's Pond, each connected by the
Gander flowing eastwards ; behind us to the south were bare
rolling hills, which fall to the south-east and rise again in
the great forests of the Middle Ridge.

We did not stay long on the summit as it was cold, and
we were anxious to get as far as possible the first day. So
after taking some photographs and sketches we continued east-
wards at a steady pace for four hours. Then we descended
into a wood to " bile the kettle," and, having no meat, felt
somewhat dissatisfied. Incidentally Martin annexed two-
thirds of a large tin of butter (enough to last three healthy
men for four days) and upset a can of milk into his tea. On
resuming our tramp we all kept a sharp look-out for a stag,
but sign of deer was scarce, the animals evidently not caring
much for the open country at this season.

The sun was low when we at last came under the frowning

232 NEWFOUNDLAND

mass of Burnt Hill, and we flung ourselves wearily against
some rocks for one of the usual " spells." Presently all rose
to refresh on the delicious blueberries which were nearly as
large as cherries, except Martin, who was too weary to crawl.
As I turned to speak to him and point out a place where I
thought we should camp for the night, he slowly raised one
red finger and, pointing to the summit of the mountain, said,
" I see fox."

It seemed that Martin had made a wonderful "spy," for
to see a fox crawling along the mountain 700 feet above was
little short of miraculous. The telescope, however, revealed
a large doe caribou, and as I was about to take it from my
eye it revealed another beast in the form of a large stag
feeding about 100 yards below. We must have meat, but
oh ! that hill, when you have tramped twenty miles and are
feeling tired, and twenty miles in Newfoundland is pretty
stiff work.

Joe released from his pack was like a greyhound slipped
from the leash, and the way he raced up Burnt Hill was a
sight to see. I set my teeth, and followed him as fast as I
could, but after a bit I slowed down and let him go on, for
I knew he could not kill the stag with his axe. By-and-by
we came within view of the highest ridge, and caution being
necessary, Joe proceeded to behave himself with reason, and
allowed me to search the ground with the glass. There was
the doe, but the stag we could not see for a long time, but
suspecting that he had fed on, we gained the crest and crept
onwards. A bush in movement at first attracted our atten-
tion, and then the stag's horns came into view above it on
the same level as ourselves. Consequently I decided to get
above our quarry at the risk of moving the doe, which was
now in full view. A short crawl brought me within 200

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 233

yards of the stag feeding quietly on the hill beneath me, so
I sat up to take a quiet shot.

"What are you doing?" said Joe, who never took shots
farther than forty yards ; " we can get close in."

" I don't want to," I replied, for I was anxious to show
him what the Mannlicher could do.

The bullet took the deer high up through the ribs, and he
staggered a few yards with his head down. I then fired again
and hit him close to the same place, when he pitched forwards
a few yards and fell dead.

Joe said nothing, but shook his head and picked up the
rifle, into the nozzle of which he tried to insert his little finger,
but without success.

" So," he said, " if you offer to give me a rifle like that las'
year I wu'n't say ' thank you,' but now I think him pretty
good," and he walked off to bleed the stag. Its head was a
very pretty one of twenty-seven points, but encumbered as we
were with other things, it was impossible to carry it. Joe said
that his brother, who would shortly hunt in the neighbourhood
of Burnt Hill, would carry it out for me to the coast for five
dollars, so I left the bargain in his hands.

As he was cutting off one of the haunches I happened to
look down the hill to see if our men were still in sight, when
I observed five caribou galloping along the base of the hill
and coming in our direction. Three of them were undoubtedly
stags, so I made all haste to cut them off, leaving Joe to skin
and follow me. The wind being right, I easily headed the
deer, which, in the fading light, looked much better than they
really were. Two of the stags had pretty heads of about
twenty points, but they were not the sort of animals I desired.
Joe joined me in a few minutes, laden with ribs, breast, tongue,
and a haunch. We made for the wood, over which a haze

234 NEWFOUNDLAND

of blue smoke hung, and we were soon at work with knife and
fork. It is wonderful what meat will do. We were all dog-
tired, but in half-an-hour after a eood meal we were all in-
spirited and refreshed. Saunders had done wonders for a man
of fifty-nine. Of course he had carried his pack quite in the
wrong way, the 70 lbs. being all on the back of his neck
instead of being properly distributed. He had fallen twice
to the ground from sheer exhaustion, but his indomitable
spirit had carried him along where a more skilful and less
plucky individual would have lagged behind or given in.

After a good night, during which the men slept without
shelter by the fireside, we continued our journey down the
Gander, which was now developing into a good-sized brook
with several deep " steadies." In one of these Joe pointed
out a colony of beavers which had lived there unmolested for
the past six years. After walking steadily from 7 till 10 we
encountered the first large " droke " of birch, and far along in
the distance, to the east, could see the commencement of more
green woods. Signs of deer now became more frequent, and
we kept a sharp look-out. When packing, the usual plan is
to walk in line steadily for half-an-hour, and then to take a
short rest. During one of these "spells," as they are called,
Martin again made an excellent "spy," noticing the head
of a stag sticking out of a peat bog about 600 yards
above us.

It was now McGaw's turn for a shot, and as the wind was
right he got within 200 yards of the deer without difficulty.
Here Joe, who could not sit still and see another do a stalk,
joined us, and so getting some rocks in between ourselves
and the quarry we advanced to within 100 yards, where
a suitable spot to shoot from offered itself My friend
then fired at the stag, which was now on his legs, feeding

o
o

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 235

slowly along, and struck it through the ribs. Another shot
was unnecessary, but he fired again for practice, and the stag,
after running a few yards, fell dead.

This was McGaw's first trophy, which means much to the
man who has shot it ; so, after taking the head and neck skin,
we cleaned the carcase and left it for the future consumption
of our packers.

After the midday rest and meal we kept on until night-
fall, when, finding a fine wood of birch, we made camp for the
night, after going about fifteen miles. Close to camp was a
large backwater, cut off from the main river by the finest
beaver dam I have ever seen.

The amount of work which had been effected by these
clever animals was tremendous. By the sides of the main
pool were large timber roads, along which the beavers had
dragged their birch logs, and then slid them down the muddy-
banks. Fully an acre had been cut down, and the remnants
of their forays lay in all directions. Following up the main
lake we discovered another small one, and at once detected
the beavers' house on the other side. Whilst we looked
and admired the ingenuity of the whole construction, two of
the occupants suddenly appeared and commenced swimming
slowly up and down. Both were adult animals, and did not
seem at all shy as they came and surveyed us with cocked
ears within thirty yards.

"There are about twenty live here," said Joe, "and I could
catch them all when I like, if it warn't for de law." Which
proves that the Indians do respect the game laws when they
are just.

In the time of Cormack (1822) beaver were numerous all
over the central part of the island ; but constant molestation,
both by white men and Indians, had made them so scarce that

236 NEWFOUNDLAND

measures were taken for their protection a few years ago.
This has done much good, and the beavers have not been
trapped or shot to any extent. The close time, how-
ever, ends in October 1907, and it is certain that unless
further restrictions are put on the killing of this inter-
esting animal, the whole stock in the island will be rapidly
wiped out.

The Newfoundland beavers subsist largely on the root of
the water-lily, Nymphea odorata, called by the Indians " beaver
root." They also eat the bark of the spruce and the small
twigs of birch. Their habits are in all particulars the same
as those of the Canadian beaver. There is one point which
I should like to mention in connection with the building of the
dams. Many authorities assert that the mud is carried in the
paws and dumped down in the place required. The Indians
in Newfoundland say that the mud is invariably carried in the
mouth both for the dam and the "lodge"; that the beaver
deposits it in place, and turning round quickly slides or smears
his tail over this natural plaster, and thus makes it set. Sir
Edmund Loder, who has closely watched his own beavers at
Leonardslea building their dam, also tells me that the mud is
carried in the mouth. One of the cleverest things the beaver
does is the way in which it anchors many branches of birch
in the water near the lodge or bank holes. When winter
freezes the pond the beaver can then dive in from the holes
under the ice and take such branches as it requires for food
into its warm den, and there devours them.

One of the few superstitions of the Newfoundland Micmacs
relates to the beaver. They say that these animals come up
from the salt water and take up their abode in some small
pond. For the first three years these new-comers are very
wild, and it is impossible to trap, shoot, or call them. When

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 237

they cannot catch a beaver they say " he has just come from
the sea."

At daybreak Bob Saunders roused us with the news that
a large stag was standing on the other side of the river, and
that he appeared to have a very good head. I sprang from
my bed, and, seizing my rifle, ran out in my " nighties." Yes,
there he was, staring fixedly at the camp, and I sat down on
the cold stones and let go, estimating the distance at 150
yards. The stag sprang away, and after going a short dis-
tance turned sharply to the right and crossed the river.
During his passage I fired two more shots at him, both
going just over his back by an inch or two. But an inch is
a clean miss, and I had the mortification of seeing a fine head
dash into the alders and pass away. I had not troubled to
settle myself in a good shooting position, and so had missed
a good beast.

At noon we struck the heavy timber, and the spoor of deer
was seen in abundance on both sides of the river. As we were
about to halt for tea a stag came out of the wood at about
170 yards, so I sat down and killed it as food for McGaw
and myself. I may say in passing that every eatable part
of this deer and the two others which we had previously
killed was eaten by ourselves and the men during the next
eight days. It was, in fact, fortunate that we had found and
shot these three stags just at the points where they were
wanted, for it made the work of the packers much easier.
About twenty minutes after this incident I recognised my
old camp of 1903 at the riverside. Here the men rested for
the night, and then departed again up stream, leaving McGaw
and myself to our own devices for a week.

During the first day McGaw went down stream for about
three miles and watched some open stretches, seeing two good

238 NEWFOUNDLAND

shootable stags, but in difificult positions. On the same day
I travelled up stream to a good crossing place. Several deer
came close to me, mostly does and young stags, and at 3 p.m.
I saw a party of five crossing the river about 600 yards above
me. It was interesting to watch their movements and to
see their terror when they struck the spoor of the men who
had travelled up the bank in the early morning. On getting
the wind from the track they at once rushed pell-mell back
into the river, where they stood staring for about a quarter
of an hour. Then they tried to cross it again about 100
yards farther down, when a similar panic overtook them.
After walking down the river for 400 yards, during which
they tested the wind and retreated from the offensive taint
three or four times, they came close to my position and I
could examine them at leisure. The party consisted of two
old does, a two-year old, and a five-year old stag, with eighteen
points. One of the does carried a head with a large number
of points — fifteen — this being the largest number I had seen.

McGaw and I had built our camp right in the open and
commanding a view of a much-used lead, where I had seen
two fine stags pass two years before. Our reindeer beds
lay on the slope of the hill, and it was decided that whoever
was first awake at dawn should watch this lead. At daybreak
I was awakened by a violent shaking and found my companion
busily engaged in detaching me from the arms of Morpheus.

"There's a big stag making for the lead," was McGaw's
first ejaculation, an announcement which needed no further
explanation than to sit up and seize our rifles.

"Go on, old chap," I said; "you saw the beast first, and
must take first shot. Distance, 320 yards."

It was a long and difficult chance with hazy light, but
it was our only one, as the wind was blowing directly from

A Simple Snarp: for thk Varying Hare
A humane form of trap which should be adopted in Great Britain

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 239

us to the stag, which looked to be a splendid one. McGaw
aimed carefully and fired, and the stag only raised his head
sharply. Then I fired. My bullet evidently struck a stone
just under the deer's brisket, and, causing some particles
to touch the stag, frightened it. As it galloped away my
companion fired again without effect, and immediately after-
wards, as the animal dashed up to the forest, I let go my
second shot, which fortvmately broke the beast's neck. This
was the only long shot I fired during the trip, and I felt much
elated at bringing it off. When we got up to the fallen one,
we were much surprised to find that it was not dead, although
its neck was actually broken by the bullet, so I shot it through
the heart to end matters at once. The head proved to be
one of the largest I have seen in Newfoundland, the horns
being long (40 inches) and massive, but with very few points —
nineteen. This being the first good trophy we had secured,
we returned to breakfast in great spirits, as we were now in
the real home of the stags, and I hoped my friend would
secure such another during the next few days.

Camping and hunting alone or with a companion offers
no great hardship or difficulty in Newfoundland, and but for
the trouble of cutting logs, washing dishes, and lighting the
early morning fire, it is much the same as if your men were
with you. We had, however, chosen a shocking site on a
steep slope, and our fire was continually tumbling down the
hill into the river and throwing its heat, when we wanted it,
in the wrong direction.

This day, 21st September, proved to be a very enjoyable
one. We spent the morning in photographing and sketching,
&c., and then, taking some provisions, started down the river
for the rest of the day.

After proceeding a mile, the rain, which had been threaten-

240 NEWFOUNDLAND

ing, came down in torrents, so we retreated into a birch droke
at the riverside, where we lit a fire and kept watch alternately
up and down the river. At about 2,30 I saw a stag skirting
the timber in a bend of the river some 600 yards away ; the
wind could not have been worse, and appeared to blow directly
from us to the spot whence the animal was slowly moving
along with its head down. As he did not seem to "get" us,
I resolved on a sharp run in — the only action possible, for
in another minute the stag would turn up into the woods and
be lost for good. The rocks were wet and slippery, but we
raced along, keeping an eye fixed on the stag the whole time.
Once he raised his head and looked about, and we sank into
the soaking grass and bush ; and then on again at the risk of
breaking our legs for another 300 yards. As we approached
the stag, which was on the other side of the river at a sharp
bend, I saw how it was that he had not received our wind —
a broad ride of low forest here intersected the high trees and
formed a sort of air-chute from the west, which, meeting
another wind and our scent winding down the river from the
north-west, bore it outwards and upwards before it reached
the stag. We were now within 100 yards, so McGaw sat
down and fired, as the head was a good one. The first bullet
went over the animal's back, but had the effect of driving the
deer out of the wood into the open. A second shot seemed
more successful, as I saw the stag wince and a moment after
come rushing for the river, which it endeavoured to cross.
Here McGaw fired three more shots without effect, as he had
become a bit excited and had emptied his magazine. But
no more were necessary, as the noble beast, throwing up his
head, plunged madly about for a few moments and rolled over
dead in the stream.

My friend was now full of joy, as he feared he had missed

longhoknel) s lag shot ))y the author o.n" the upper gander,
September 1905

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 241

his mark, and, hastily stripping off his coat, went into the river
to remove the head. He brought ashore a good, massive
set of horns, wild in appearance, but not large in frame.
The evening was drawing on, so we returned to camp
and killed our stags over again around the blazing fire.
During the next few days the weather was still and hot, and
deer move about but little at such times. Under cover of
the night many stags crossed from the dense forest of the
south to the " loose " timber on the north bank, as I could see
by the fresh spoor each morning. We saw a couple of stags
every day, but nothing with a head good enough to tempt
one to take a shot.

On the night of the 24th the men came with the canoes,
having had an arduous journey of eight days since leaving
Dog Lake. They had received some help on the three lakes,
but the river itself had proved nothing but a series of shallows
and rocky benches, in which it was unsafe to drag the canoes,
so they had had to pack nearly the whole distance. Martin
Matthews and his brother had worked well and were of great
assistance in portaging the outfit ; in fact without their timely
help the packers would have been three days longer on
the road.

As he had now only one more stag to kill under the terms
of his licence and was also anxious to catch a steamer for home
early in October, my friend now departed for Glenwood, about
60 miles down the river. He was to stop either at Serpentine
Hill or Migwell's Brook, and I felt sure he would kill a good
one at one of these places. As a matter of fact he saw five
stags the first day at Serpentine Hill and killed the best one,
a twenty-eight pointer, and so returned to civilisation, having
thoroughly enjoyed his tramp.

It is a curious thing how the habits and movements of

242 NEWFOUNDLAND

wild animals will change with different seasons. In 1903, when
I hunted on the Gander, all the big stags were constantly
to be seen standing out on the river or crossing it during
the morning or evening. By 20th September they were
ready to move out, collect does and travel south with
them. I explain this by the fact that the winter of 1902-3
had been an exceptionally mild one and the stags had early
come into fine condition. Now in 1905 a different state of
affairs prevailed. The winter of 1904-5 had been one of
the severest on record, and when the spring came, the deer
were reduced to the most wretched condition. As a rule
they can get at the caribou moss in April by scraping in the
snow with their feet, but in this season the frost continued
to pack the snow into a hard block which could not be pene-
trated, and the deer were forced to subsist on the " maldow,"
a bearded moss which hangs in the fir-trees and which
is only capable of supporting life. The result was a very
backward season, in which the animals, with few exceptions,
grew poor heads and were in no condition. In consequence
the rut was deferred for a period of nearly three weeks,
an almost unheard-of event in Newfoundland, and the big
stags were still keeping closely to the timber as late as
25th September.

I saw, therefore, if I was to obtain a first-class head or
two, I must adopt a different method of hunting, and search
for the bearers of antlers amongst the timber itself Now to
hunt the caribou stag in its home of dense woods, such as
stretches on the south bank of the Gander from Burnt Hill
to the Gander Lake, was quite out of the question, owing
to its great density, and the fact that deer would hear the
advent of man before he could catch a glimpse of one of
them. Some thousands of stags inhabit this great forest.

Gralloching

Camp Scene un the Upper Gander

INCIDENTS OF STII.L-HUNTING 243

and a few cross the river every night to feed amongst the
loose timber situated on the north bank, as well as to lie
up where the trees are not so closely packed as on the
south side.

It was, therefore, necessary to become a "still-hunter,"
and to seek the stag by slow and careful manoeuvres in the
semi-open forest to the north. Numerous tall larches are
scattered throughout this country, and from the topmost
branches of these, small openings in the woods and various
glades can be spied at intervals ; so during the next eight
days Joe and I spent our time alternately creeping slowly
up-wind about the forest in moccasins, and spying likely
bits of country from the tree-tops. This is by far the most
entertaining and difificult method of hunting the caribou. It
is quite distinct from river-hunting, which 1 have already
described, and which requires patience, quickness, and straight
shooting, sometimes at long range ; or open-ground stalking,
which is easy ; or waiting on trails at migration time, which
is scarcely sport at all. Once in the timber, with its eddying
winds, its intense stillness, and its abundance of noisy debris,
the caribou stag becomes a high-class beast of the chase,
and almost as difficult to kill as the wapiti or the red stag
under similar circumstances. With the trees around to help
the sight, sound, and olfactory nerves, he seems to gain
unusual perception, especially during the short season prior
to the taking of wives. The crack of a stick, the slightest
movement, or the puff of the tainted atmosphere, and he is
off full gallop without further inquiry. Those who have only
seen the caribou stag under conditions of the "rut" or the
blind movement of migration, are in no sense qualified to
speak of him as a beast of the chase, as it only takes in one
point of view. In the wood he is a different animal altogether,

244 NEWFOUNDLAND

and an object worthy of the hunter's skill. In Canada I
have heard old hunters say that, next to the moose, the
caribou is the most difificult animal to kill in timber, and here
in Newfoundland the same animal that any boy could slay
in the last week of October will not be shot in mid-September
by tenderfeet with hobnailed boots.

The day after McGaw left I moved camp a mile down
stream to a large birch droke, and saw a fine stag just as we
were building the lean-to. By running in I got within 200
yards, and had just time to put the glass upon his head, and
see that he was not good enough. Next morning we were early
astir, and whilst preparing for the day's hunt, I sent Joe up
a high larch-tree at the back of the camp to view the ground.
He had departed about five minutes, when I saw him again
descending the tree, so I knew he had seen something. A
moment afterwards he ran up to say that a stag with very
fine horns had just appeared for a second as it fed along
among the trees about 400 yards away. As the wind was
right, coming from the north, we circled away from the camp to
marshy ground, to make less noise, and so advanced through
the trees in the direction which Joe indicated.

" It was just there he was," whispered my companion, as
he pointed to the blackened spoor caused by the impress of
the cutting hoofs. We stood perfectly still for five minutes,
as the wind had dropped, and showed signs of being shifty,
and then, hearing nothing, moved cautiously forward in circles
on to a high stony mound from which a better view could
be obtained. We were just leaving this, when I happened to
glance behind me, and at once detected a small snow-white
spot amongst the trees. Almost immediately it disappeared,
and I knew that it must be the stag coming back on its own
spoor, A retreat was therefore necessary, as the wind was

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 245

swirling about in a disheartening fashion, so we ran as noise-
lessly as possible for a short distance on our back tracks, and
I then saw the stag walking slowly forward amongst the trees
with his ears set at an attentive cock. He had obtained
a puff from our tracks and was going to examine them.
Suddenly he stopped and started, so I sat down immediately
with my back against Joe's shoulders. At this moment his
fears seemed to be realised, and he swung round to gallop
across the open space about lo yards broad. As he did so,
I fired and broke his back, giving a second shot as he tried
to recover. This stag carried a beautiful set of antlers with
thirty-four points, and was by far the best I secured in 1905.
The bays were exceptionally fine and the beam very long
(46 inches) and very broad in the centre. What made it
to me a fine trophy was its wild nature, as it had extra
points sticking out of the main beam just above the bays.
The whole head seemed to carry a little forest of antlers all
the way up the horns, making it very attractive. Like so
many caribou heads, it had, however, only one good brow ;
the other, though long, being of the scraggy order. I went
to camp for my camera, but it came on to rain hard, so after
skinning off the head, we had to return to camp, and waited
till it became clearer.

" Kesculah " (the closing shower), said Joe, surveying the
heavens as we made a start into the country, and kept
working the timber steadily till sunset. We had many more
"Kesculahs" that day, and, having tramped about 10 miles
towards Great Rattling Brook, sat down to rest on the edge
of a great open barren surrounded by dense timber. " A
good place to watch," suggested Joe, so we made a fire and
were refreshing ourselves with tea and meat when a stag
appeared on the edge of the woods behind us. He was a very

246 NEWFOUNDLAND

big fellow, but his horns were wretched, and, like all bad heads,
he wandered up close at hand, giving me time to make some
sketches at 30 yards distance.

Shortly after this incident I was standing half undressed in
front of the fire, drying my soaking clothes, when Joe, who
was, as usual, "up a tree," pointed to the north with his long
red finger. Something was flashing in and out of the trees,
a deer for certain, but of what sort I could not make out,
even with the help of the glass.

" Dat him for sure ; he's going fast and lookin' for de does."

Joe was right, for we presently had a good but momentary
glimpse of an immense stag rapidly passing along the edge of
the timber with his nose on the ground. I bundled on some
clothes and we made off at our best speed across the marsh
to head him. We had not gone far, however, when we both
plunged in up to our waists in the bog. To extricate our-
selves was a moment's work, but a few yards farther a similar
disaster overtook us, Joe going in up to his armpits, from
which uncomfortable position I had to haul him. We now
found ourselves in a perfect maze of bogs, and after vainly
endeavouring to find a passage through, we were forced to
retreat by following our own spoor back. Now we made a
fresh start only to encounter a further series of bog holes
and treacherous swamps, through which, after some careful
manoeuvring, we eventually found a passage.

Meanwhile the stag was rapidly advancing across our
front at a "running" walk, so we had to put on all steam to
head him. He was almost opposite to us and about 350
yards distance, when he must have caught a glimpse of our
movements as we sought to place some bushes between us.
He stopped short at once and stared at us, and we sank to
the ground and lay perfectly still. It was bitterly cold, and

Stag's Head with Fine Brow Shovel Shot near
Migwell's Brook, September 1905

INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING 247

we were wet to the skin, and there that wretched animal
kept us for fully a quarter of an hour without moving. I
began to shiver, and my teeth to chatter, but still he kept
his neck stiff and straight. At last, after what seemed an
age, he moved on a few yards and we raced for the bushes.
Here, another staring match ensued, till Joe, losing patience,
said, " I don't think that stag quite make us out. He think
we's another stag, so I ' toll ' him."

The Indian thereupon commenced an appalling series
of loud grunts, enough, as I thought, to scare every deer
out of the country ; but not so our amorous friend, who at
once replied with similar noises, and trotted up to within
150 yards. The sun had set, so I could not see his horns
properly, but Joe said they were better than those I had
obtained in the morning, so, getting a good rest, I fired,
and struck the stag in the middle of the chest. He galloped
off madly, so fast that I felt sure the shot was fatal, and
did not fire again. After going about 50 yards he tripped
over a hummock and fell dead.

" As big a stag as I see," pronounced Joe, as we gazed
on the fallen one ; but his head, which appeared big in the
evening light, although a fair one, was disappointing, and
I had to reckon it amongst the mistakes every hunter
makes in dealing with these deer.

After cutting off the head and recovering our kettles
and clothes, we made for camp, a distance of seven or
eight miles. Most of this was tough walking, where alders
slashed you in the face and unseen holes and swamps met
you at every step, but we accomplished it in the semi-
darkness without mishap, and so got home after a hard
though most enjoyable day.

All the half-wooded country on the north bank, between

248 NEWFOUNDLAND

my camp and Little Gull River as far as Great Rattling
Brook, was full of deer, principally consisting of big stags,
mostly old fellows "going back." On 26th September I saw
eight stags, either by spying from high trees or still-hunting
in the timber. Four of these got the wind or heard us
and there was no chance of seeing their heads, and three
proved to be old fellows whose days of good horn growth
had vanished.

Just as we turned to come home in the evening we found
ourselves in a series of little stony hills close to the river.
The wind blew directly in our faces, and in rounding one
of these litde mounds we suddenly came upon a very large
stag with his head down in a hole of moss. His eyes were
completely obscured, and so he had neither seen nor smelt
us. It was very interesting to survey a big stag, for he
was a very large fellow, within 15 yards, without his being
aware of our presence. He bore an extraordinary head,
not on account of its size, but on account of its smallness.
A complete caribou head was there with double brows,
good bays, and tops, but the whole was not larger than
that carried by a good three-year-old. I stood regarding it
with interest, whilst Joe whispered, "That's a curiosity head
and you must shoot it," which I did after some hesitation.

If the reader is interested in horns he must be struck
by the curious disparity this head bears to the long-horned
specimen which I had killed during the past week. In fact,
amongst the Newfoundland caribou I have shot every type of
horn that is supposed to exist amongst the various so-called
sub-species which inhabit Western British Columbia and Alaska.
Forms of horns alone are by no means a sure test of species
or sub-species, although it is well to bear in mind that every
local race of deer has a certain general type of its own.

CHAPTER XIII

WORK AND SPORT IN THE UPPER REACHES OF THE
GANDER AND GULL RIVERS

During the night we were serenaded by a lynx, which
kept up an unearthly caterwaul at intervals. It had doubt-
less smelt the meat and was calling to its partner.

Nearly all white men as well as the Indians say that
there were no lynxes in Newfoundland fifteen years ago,
and that they came to the island about this time from
Labrador by means of the ice bridge at the straits of
Belleisle. It is also said that as the lynx entered so the
wolves departed. But I do not think that this view is
correct, for as long ago as 1622 Captain Whitbourne noted
the presence of "leopards" in the island and subsequent
writers also mention the " wild cats."

Doubtless they were very scarce until recent years, but
now they are the most abundant of all the carnivora in the
island, and do much damage to the game.^ They live to
a large extent on the small varying hare and grouse, seldom
touching carrion until forced to do so by extreme hunger.
Everywhere one sees their tracks on the sandy shores of
the lakes, and at night and early morning I have often
heard their screaming caterwaul. He is a sly silent beast
is A-bak-sigan, the shadow, and his retiring habits hide
him from the gaze of man. Of all animals he is the easiest

' I have little doubt that the great increase in the number of lynxes is due to the

introduction of the small varying hare, which furnishes a good supply of food at all

seasons. Animals which are well fed always breed more regularly and have large

families than those which are only just able to support life.

249

250 NEWFOUNDLAND

to trap, the best method being that employed by the Indians,
of which I give a sketch. A good Indian trapper will kill
from 50 to 100 in one season. I have never seen the
lynx, but I have seen the tragedy of the little hare's death
written on the snow as plainly as if I had been there to
witness it. Here is where the lynx suddenly stopped in his
prowling v/alk ; here is where he crouched on seeing the
unfortunate "rabbit"; and again that is where he leaped
after his prey in immense bounds, rapidly overtaking the
scurrying form. The scattered earth and leaves with crimson
patches and tufts of hair on the frozen snow show where
the death took place, and the tracks of the lynx now walking
slowly indicate where he has borne his victim to the side
of a bush where more tufts of hair, two leg bones, and a
skull and eyes, exhibit the last stage of the tragedy.

No doubt lynxes kill a few very young caribou fawns,
but only those that are lying hidden in the undergrowth
apart from their mothers.

The day following that on which I had killed the two
big stags was a typical day's still-hunting, and its various
incidents will serve to show something of the nature of this
particular form of the chase and its excitements, so I take
leave to copy it directly from my diary as it was written.

Wednesday, ijih September. — We moved camp this morn-
ing three miles down the river to the mouth of Little Gull
River, where we left Bob to build a camp in the angle of
the two streams. It was a beautiful autumn morning, clear
and still, with the golden leaves showering from the bushes
into the river. We had left camp in the darkness, and so
saw the day break in all that pellucid clearness which is
a never-failing source of wonder and enjoyment to the
lover of Nature. Round about were the wood thrushes,

Thirty-four Pointer with Irregular Horns Shot near Little
Gull River, September 1905

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 251

trying with the advent of their new clothes to reconstruct
the songs of spring-time, and lilting sweetly among the
bushes. Occasionally a Hock of crossbills passed overhead
with their clinking cry, or a solitary pine grossbeak chanted
a low melody from the top of some spruce. Even the last
of the brilliant yellow-and-green wood warblers had not
vanished, and still chased the Hies in sheltered nooks.

Everything in the air bespoke autumn. The slight night
frosts had imparted an activity and a potency to all things.
The delicious scent of the spruce or fir boughs over one's
head, or the odours of the wood fire that blazes up merrily,
are all more intense and satisfactory as the season advances,
and we sit round the blazing logs with appetites sharpened
by weeks of pure air and healthful exercise. This is Life
— and I am enjoying it. We have found the stags too ; we
are even camped in the "Sanctuary," where no man comes,
and that, though selfish, is none the less delightful.

A party of jays rose from the river bank as we launched
the canoe, for they had already found some of the spoils
of yesterday, and were taking their share, carrying off the
meat in large mouthfuls, or bearing it in their feet to some
rotten pine in the forest where the winter stores were hidden,
from which retreat they uttered their mellifluous whistle.
Rain and wind had been prevalent for the past few days,
but to-day a clear sky and a glow in the east gave promise
of a fine day, certainly the worst weather for still-hunting,
but pleasant for man, who likes to sit and gaze into the
distance.

We walked noiselessly to our first spy-tree, an old larch
about 50 feet high, and up this Joe climbed like a monkey,
whilst I pottered about and gazed in admiration at an immense
dropped horn I had discovered. On this horn were no
fewer than twenty-six points, and others had already been

252 NEWFOUNDLAND

eaten away by does during the previous winter. Ah, if
only I could see the grand fellow who bore that trophy ! he
must have been a veritable fifty-pointer. Whilst Joe spied
I beat the ground carefully in circles in the immediate
neighbourhood, in the hope of discovering the other horn
of the pair ; but I did not find it, although I discovered two
other splendid horns (both right antlers), one bearing twenty
points, the other twenty-one. That stags of forty, forty-two,
and fifty points had each shed their antlers within 200 yards
of one another in 1903, for they were all two years old, was
somewhat remarkable, but it shows what magnificent heads
are still hidden in the forest of the Upper Gander.

In ten minutes Joe descended, having only seen three
does and a small stag, so we proceeded to a high mound of
sandstone rock which commanded a splendid view of the
whole of the open forest to the north. Much of it was so
hidden that there might be dozens of stags there without
our seeing them, as the whole place was covered with fresh
tracks and droppings. The best chance was to wait and
view a moving stag, as such an one is quickly picked up by
experienced eyes as it flashes in and out amongst the trees,
even a couple of miles away.

" I think stags goin' to be very quiet to-day, boss,"
remarked Joe, as he shut up the glass. " It's goin' to be
too fine " — a prognostication that was not fulfilled, for at
intervals we kept viewing deer the whole day. We had
not long to wait when Joe made an excellent spy, seeing a
stag moving through the trees fully a mile away. He was
heading due west, and travelling from thicket to thicket over
very broken and hilly ground. "We must run," said Joe,
and run we did, until we were both exhausted. Down into
holes, through alder swamps, then up little sandy hills,
through little thickets, then on to hard moss ground, then

wi/^i ^^..^.gatiiS

fy7^-//////////y A' rr/ ///// //y/r'/y // //frr/ <^/r/ y

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 253

through two streams, and then up a tree, to see how the
game was progressing.

" Not far enough yet," said Joe, so on we went, making
great casts down-wind, and watching from every available
point. He might pass close to us or behind us at any
moment, so thick was the timber in places, but at "cutting-
off" stags, Joe was my superior and seldom made a mistake,
so I left it entirely in his hands. At last he said, " He gone
by unless he stop somewhere up-wind," a sound piece of
judgment, which we now acted upon by moving across against
the wind. We had not proceeded far when Joe, who was
in front, suddenly stopped and drew back slowly, so I knew
he had seen the quarry. I crept forward and saw a large
stag lying on a steep mound above a brook, about loo yards
away, and, whilst observing his horns, which were poor, a
loud crash of antlers resounded in the forest about 60 yards
to the right, and there was the sound of war and turmoil.
The fighters were in a thick place, but, as the wind was
blowing well, I crept in on my hands and knees, and got
within 30 yards of two five-year-old stags, who were doing
a little bit of preliminary practice. They were not fighting
seriously, but boxing, to try their strength, and I obtained
a splendid view of their manoeuvres at close range. They
seem to spar in much the same manner as red deer, always
whipping round quickly to gain the advantage of the hill
whenever one or other obtained the push. After watching
them for ten minutes, and whilst making a sketch, one of
the combatants gave his antagonist a good blow in the side
which caused the latter to retreat precipitously on to the
top of myself. I was too intent on my work for the moment
to see what was happening, and looked up to find a great
beast staring me in the face within five yards. I rose to
get out of his way, deeming a closer acquaintance undesirable.

254 NEWFOUNDLAND

when he dashed round with a loud "whoup" of fear, and,
taking the other stags along with him, stood for a moment
on the hill and then galloped off to the north.

We had not left the hill two minutes when we encountered
another large stag — a regular old patriarch he looked, with
thin, wretched horns. He was moving westwards, so we
let him go by without disturbance. At midday we found
two more stags by slow still-hunting. These were also
undesirable old fellows, and about three another big fellow
heard or smelt us as we passed along, and galloped off in
great terror. About four we passed several does, and then
saw the usual snow-white neck of a large stag as it lay on
the edge of a small barren. What was my surprise to see,
on raising the telescope, that the beast was a "hummel,"^ or
hornless stag, certainly a rarity, but one we did not appreciate.
It was getting late, so we turned homewards down-wind,
still hunting carefully as we went along. It was getting
nearly dark when I saw the stern of a large stag move
round a belt of firs about 200 yards to our left, and at
once left Joe and crept after the animal. The horns of the
stag were swaying from side to side as they always do when
a well-antlered deer moves along with his head down, so I
had hopes of securing another good head. Presently the
stag turned sideways, and I sat up and allowed him to see
me, as I wanted him to raise his head. The result was not
satisfactory — a well-formed twenty-five pointer, but not class
enough, so he was allowed to trot away to his friends.

So home to camp at seven, without having fired my rifle
and having seen nine warrantable stags.

During the next three days we continued our still-hunting,
and were successful in finding a good many deer, but no

1 Hummels are much rarer amongst caribou than red deer. Joe had only seen
two in his life before the present example.

'5-^0.% i.

v^-y

^>-- h -tt|- V~"a -^h "-1-?^^

V, Bernard s"^

TSylvesfer >, cgq

. ^ "",- ^ IJi - - ^1 --■^ Tamnapegawi// ,-y*%^.

NEWFOUNDLAND

Compass sketch of Long Harbor River

and country between

Middle Ridge & Fortune Bay-
By jg.millais 1907.

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 255

heads worth shooting. On 30th September I moved camp
to Serpentine Hill, and on the following day killed two fine
stags, one of which carried a very pretty head.

Serpentine Hill or Hills are a long chain of rocky hills
about ten miles long on the south bank of the Gander. They
are only slightly wooded, and afford a magnificent view of
the whole of the sparsely wooded flats and smaller sandy
hills on the north bank. By ascending a short distance you
can see deer moving anywhere within a radius of two miles,
and so the position of a camp in such a spot is simply ideal.
At daybreak Joe had gone to spy, and awoke me with the
news that a stag with very good horns was feeding about
a mile away on the other side of the river. I jumped out
of bed, pulled on my boots, and we ran to the canoe quickly
and crossed the river. Here we found ourselves in a large
swamp, which extended for a mile to the hard ground and
forest, where the stag had been spied. Through the marsh
we continued to run until I suddenly felt quite exhausted
and unable to proceed farther. It had not occurred to me
that a cup of tea and a few biscuits would have been a
good thing on which to commence the day, and now I felt
faint and almost unable to proceed. We crawled on slowly
for a few hundred yards, and then Joe pointed out the
" open," where he had seen the stag with two does. After
waiting a few minutes one of the does came into view, so
we sat down, expecting to see his lordship at any moment.
Since he did not appear, I sent Joe to climb a tree to my
left, and lay down to rest and await eventualities. Joe
had hardly left me when I saw both the stag and the other
doe come through the short timber to my right. I there-
fore recalled the Indian and worked into a good shooting
position. The stag was a small one, but seemed to carry
nicely-shaped antlers, so, when he passed across my front

256 NEWFOUNDLAND

at lOO yards, I fired, and struck him right through the heart.
Joe soon skinned off the head, and we returned to camp
slowly, where a good hot breakfast soon put me to rights
again. Mem. : Do not in future run over swamps in the
early morning without first having taken some food. It
is not wise.

After breakfast we ascended the mountain where we had
discovered a good spying-place, and so settled ourselves
for a long look. Five or six deer were already in sight
in spite of our having run over a good part of the ground.
It was, however, my turn to find a good beast, for, with the
aid of the telescope, I just caught a glimpse of him as he
glinted in and out of a great belt of spruce fully a mile and
a half away. The white neck of a big caribou stag is quite
conspicuous at a great distance, and even at this long range
I could see that the bays were large and thick.

So once again we were down the hill, over the river and
running northwards across swamp and barren for a point
ahead of the amorous traveller. First we encounter a doe
and a fawn, then two young stags, and then Joe, after a
tree spy, marked what he thought must be the big fellow
I had seen. It was a good-sized beast in truth that he
had seen moving in front of us, but on heading him I saw
at once that it was not "my" stag, as his bays were almost
absent. He came sauntering along, so I thought I would
try a little amateur "tolling." To my surprise the stag at
once responded, and came grunting up close to our shelter and
would hardly go away. We left him, and hurried on thinking
that the big stag must either have passed by us or still be
to the north-east and heading west, in which case we might
see him. But work which way we liked, there was no sign
of the deer for an hour at any rate, when Joe ascended a
high larch on the edge of dense forest, and tried to survey

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 257

the country to the east. He remained up in the branches for
ten minutes, and then descended. Just as his feet touched
the ground, I heard an unusual noise of some sort. Joe
stood rigid, and asked me if I had heard anything, to which
I replied that I thought I had detected a low grunt. We
stood listening intently, when over his shoulder I saw a great
stag walking slowly towards us out of the timber. We
crouched low at once, and he came on, giving me an easy
shot at 50 yards, the sort of chance which could not be
missed. The stag ran fully 100 yards after receiving the
bullet through the heart, and then turned a somersault and
fell dead. I rushed up to the fallen one, which I felt sure
was an exceptional head, but was much disappointed to find
that this was not the case. The deer itself was the largest
I had ever seen, but the tops of the horns, which had been
thrown back as the animal came towards me and were in
consequence out of view, were exceedingly poor. We took
a haunch, the shank skins for moccasins, and the head, and
were back in camp at one.

The following day Joe and I were following a wooded
stream up towards Great Rattling Brook, ten miles to the
north, when I saw a large doe feeding on dead alder leaves,
and stood to watch her. She picked each leaf off daintily,
and kept looking up the brook as if waiting for another deer
to appear. We naturally inferred that there must be a stag
with her at this season, and so sat down and waited for fully
an hour without hearing a bush shake or a stick crack.

" I think we go on," said Joe at last, and we rose to
proceed, at the same time showing ourselves to the doe.
There was a loud crash close by, and I could just see the
white stern of a big stag as it sprang from the bank into
the stream and dashed away. Running forward, I found a
clearing, and had a good sight of the stag, which I saw at

258 NEWFOUNDLAND

once had splendid brows. So I snapped at him as his back
showed up for a moment and missed. After running 30
yards farther he turned sideways to recross the stream in
which I was myself standing to gain a better view, and so pre-
sented for a moment a good broadside. My second shot was
quite successful, as it broke the stag's neck, and caused him to
fall with a great splash into the brook.

This was the second best and the last head I secured
during the expedition. The brows and bays were all that
could be desired — in fact these parts were quite perfect, but
the tops were short and somewhat spindly. However, I
was glad to have secured three fine specimens in nine heads,
and that is as many good heads as any hunter can expect
to shoot unless he strikes new ground and meets with a
large number of stags in an exceptional year, as I had done
in 1903, and did afterwards in 1906.

In all the lakes lying adjacent to the Gander the dusky
mallard [Anas obscurus) was plentiful at this season. This
species, similar in habits to the common mallard [Anas boschas)
is widely distributed through North America and Canada east
of a line formed by the Rocky Mountains. North of a line
drawn from the St. Lawrence to the Rockies the "black
duck," as it is generally called, is numerous in all the prairie
pools and in the lakes and muskegs of the great north as far as
the Arctic Ocean. In New England it is known as the dusky
duck, in the Southern States as black mallard, in Florida
and Mexico as the black English duck, and it is the Mah-
kudasheed o{ the Canadian Indians. A dull bird of black and
brown it looks at a distance, but when handled the bright
orange legs, green bill, and metallic blue and green speculum
give it a certain beauty of colour. Males and females are very
similar in appearance. They spend the winter in the Southern
States, and arrive in pairs in Canada and Newfoundland in

■fSf^m^ y^JEMMUtJ

Belleoram

Belleoram Bkearwater and \'ie\v of the Ikon Skull

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 259

April, where they at once seek for nesting sites. The nest is
formed of pine needles, twigs and leaves, and in all their
breeding habits and general mode of life they are exactly
similar to the common wild duck.

During the following eight days I experienced a great deal
of hard walking to determine the course and position of Little
Gull River, Great Rattling Brook, and the lakes and hills
adjacent to them. I found several new lakes in the valley
between Serpentine Hills and the Middle Ridge. I also
found the correct trend of Great Gull River, and its even-
tual convergence and course parallel to Little Gull River,
and many other points which are of interest to geographers
and surveyors, and which may seem somewhat dull to the
general reader. Joe and I must have walked over lOO
miles in the time, and I was somewhat weary when we
reached Rolling Falls on the 9th of October. During all
this tramping, in which I attended solely to claims of geo-
graphical interest, I saw many stags and does, but not one
of sufficient calibre to tempt me to contravene the close
season. I admit it is curious, but it is nevertheless a fact.

On the loth we made good progress down the river,
which was very low and dangerous. We passed the Rocky
Rapids in safety, but, in trying to run a small rapid just
below, had a narrow escape from being drowned. Joe, who
was in front and carrying a light load, successfully passed
between the two rocks, where the stream though fast looked
safe enough ; but when Saunders and I attempted to run
it, we found our canoe wedged in between an unseen rock
and one of the larger ones, and with a wall of rushing
water higher than the canoe racing by on either side.
Seeing the danger, we both drove our paddles on to the
rock, and exerted all our strength to lift the canoe. At
first it scarcely moved and the water poured over us, half-

260 NEWFOUNDLAND

filling the boat, and then the force of the stream made
itself felt, and gradually bore us onwards and outwards to
safety into a small rapid. It was a ticklish moment, and
I felt much relieved at only getting a ducking. When low
the Gander is a dangerous river even to those who know
it, and the traveller if nervous will do well to walk down
stream. The way is long, but the beach is safe.

On the loth we were detained by a gale, snowstorms
from the east, and on the nth much the same conditions
prevailed ; yet we made a start and reached the Gander
Lake in the evening, after as hard a day's paddling as I can
remember. Here on the lake, thirty-three miles long, we met
the full fury of the north-east, and had to go into camp for two
days, although only fourteen miles from Glenwood, which we
reached in safety on October 14th, and so ended my third
expedition in the wilds of Newfoundland.

Joe was going to walk away back to his "tilt" up in
the mountains near Burnt Hill, a distance of eighty miles,
and, as I had not allowed him to carry a gun on our trip,
McGaw and I thought that as he had served us well we
would make him a present of one to help him to obtain
supplies on his way. His joy on receiving the new muzzle-
loader was great, and the woods about the Glenwood saw-
mill were soon echoing with a series of loud reports. Having
tried his gun, which he pronounced as good, he purchased
some commodities and came to say "Good-bye," as I had
arranged that the steamer would take him to the far side of the
Glenwood Lake, thus saving about fifteen miles bad walking.

" See here, boss, next time you come to Newfoundland
we'll go partners together. You can do all the shootin', and
I will trap, and we'll make lots of dollars." It did not occur
to his simple mind that I did not want to make a few dollars

SPORT ON THE GANDER AND THE GULL 261

out of his local knowledge, but he meant it as a compliment,
and I took it as such.

"Good-bye, boss; you come again, an' if I shoot a fifty-
pointer, I keep him for you," and the red man shouldered
a seventy-pound pack, lifted his gun, and drifted slowly down
the road out of sight.

Glenwood has grown considerably since I was there in
1903. They have been busy at the saw-mills, and had made
no fewer than seven million planks in 1905, and houses
had sprung up on all hands. Only that unique institution
the Reid Newfoundland Railroad went on as usual. The
primitive rolling stock and the problematical road bed were
still there, serving as a highway for numerous goats. Now
goats are clever creatures, and, though they used the track
as their path through the woods, they had also discovered
the safest thoroughfare. Certainly there was reason why
the trains could not overrun a goat, but there was no reason
why the goats, like Mark Twain's cow, should not come
aboard and bite the passengers.

We had quite a safe and uneventful journey to St. John's.
At Terra-Nova some trifle occurred to cause a delay of
two hours. At Whitburn we ran off the track, and ploughed
up the permanent way for about 200 yards. This contre-
temps occurred close to the station, so section men got to
work and put us on again. Then at Avondale the cylinder
head or something blew off the engine, and we had time
to do a little berry-picking and make sarcastic remarks.
However, we reached St. John's within a day of the adver-
tised time, which is considered pretty good travelling in
Newfoundland.

CHAPTER XIV

TO MOUNT SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMAC INDIANS

It was not my intention to visit Newfoundland in 1906, but
a variety of circumstances caused an alteration of plans, and
so September i8th found me speeding west again in the
old CorciUi, bound for St. John's. By a careful study of the
habits and movements of the Newfoundland caribou, I had
gradually formed a theory that nearly all the great body of
the deer which summered in the sanctuary between Round
Pond in the centre and Terra-Nova and Glenwood in the
east, moved southward about the end of October, with
converging trails, and that these roads met somewhere in the
neighbourhood of Mount Sylvester, where, Joe Jeddore had
informed me, the country became high, rocky, and open. It
is well known to the Fortune Bay men that the main body
of the deer appear in great numbers in the open country
immediately to the north of Fortune Bay about 20th November,
by which date all the adult stags are hornless. It was there-
fore a fair assumption that if I could find both the breeding
parties, as well as see the beginning of the big " trek " as it
left the woods and emerged into the open country at some
point near Sylvester, I should probably encounter the stags
before they had dropped their horns, and in such numbers
as travellers seldom see. This was proved to be correct, for,
although the season was an unusually late one, I did find
the ideal hunting-ground and the stags in all their pride of
possession.

262

TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 263

Having told Joe that I should not come in 1906, he had
therefore made other plans to go trapping with his brother
Nicholas. Nevertheless, he was good enough to delay his
trip for several days, to make sure that I could obtain the
services of one Steve Bernard, who alone knew part of the
Sylvester country, and another excellent Indian, John Hinx,
whose hunting-ground lay to the east in the neighbourhood
of the Eastern Maelpeg. These two men were to meet me
at the Long Harbor telegraph office on 3rd October.

Another cogent reason for adopting this route into the
interior was that I wished to ascend and map the Long
Harbor River, the largest unknown stream in Newfoundland.
No white man had ever passed up its waters, so that it held
some fascination for me. Mr. Howley, of course, had been to
Mount Sylvester, but he had reached it through the Bay de
Nord River and its chain of large lakes, and he had not
had time to survey the waters or country to the east, or to
do more than roughly indicate the position of the Maelpeg,
with its sinuous bays and hundred islands. All the district
north of Long Harbor telegraph station was practically
unknown, except the immediate neighbourhood of the coast,
where a few Fortune Bay men go in annually for a short
distance to kill deer in the late fall.

After two days spent in St. John's to collect provisions
and canoes from Mr. Blair, I took the train to Placentia,
where one finds the Glencoe ready to steam along the southern
coast. At the station I met the Premier, Sir Robert Bond,
who asked me to sit with him, and we had a chat for three
hours until we reached Whitburn, near which place he has a
comfortable home, to which he retires from the cares of office
every Saturday to Monday.

Sir Robert Bond is much interested in birds and mammals,

264 NEWFOUNDLAND

and has been a hunter in his day. At present he is very
anxious to introduce capercailzie and black grouse into the
island, and I hope in the near future to send him birds
and eggs for the experiment.^ If once they could be started,
I feel certain that these splendid game birds would do well
in Newfoundland, for both in summer and winter there is an
abundance of the foods on which they thrive. The winters,
too, are not more severe than those of their native Norway.
The Glencoe had been to the bottom of Hermitage Bay
since I sailed on her last year, but she seemed none the
worse for the ducking, except that the cabin doors would
not shut ; and one very proper old lady seemed to be
much shocked by the fact that she could see the other
passengers dressing. Captain Drake knew every submerged
rock on the south coast but one, and that one he unfortunately
struck on 6th June, off Ramea, and punctured the bottom of
his ship. The sea poured in so quickly that there was
nothing left but to beach her, which was done in dense fog.
The pumps were kept working, but she settled down.
Wrecking apparatus was, however, soon on the spot, when
the Glencoe was raised, and reached St. John's on the 17th
of the same month, when she was docked and repaired.
Much sympathy was expressed for Captain Drake, who
spends his life taking risks, and seems to be always on the
bridge day and night. No one, in fact, could run a steamer
in summer on the south coast in the way he does, so it is a
satisfaction to all Newfoundlanders that he retains his position
with the complete confidence of the public.

' By the time these lines are published the introduction of capercailzie and
black grouse to Newfoundland will be an accomplished fact. Forty birds were
procured by me in Norway through the agency of Mr. Lindesay, and it is hoped
they will reach Newfoundland in safety. The Newfoundland Government, in
bearing all the expenses, have shown a proper appreciation of the wants of local
sportsmen, and all lovers of nature will wish the experiment success.

TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 2G5

On 30th September we reached Belleoram in Fortune Bay
without incident. Belleoram is like all villages of the southern
outports, a delightful little sleepy hollow, nestling under stony
hills and dense spruce woods. A dreamy doke far niente
atmosphere, suffused with the ever-present odour of drying
cod, pervades the place, for it is a sort of backwash of civilisa-
tion, where the one event is the coming and going of the
steamer, and the one topic of conversation the price of fish.
The day was Sunday, and the good people, in clothes of
funereal black, were trooping into the little wooden church.
None, however, stared rudely at the stranger, but with a
courteous smile the good folk wished me good morning.
They will stop and talk too, with a charming lack of self-
consciousness, which is one of the pleasantest traits in the
Newfoundland character.

The evening brought Mr, Ryan, with his little schooner,
from Long Harbor, and we sat down for a good talk on the
prospects of the expedition.

Philip Ryan is a somewhat remarkable character. For
forty years he has been in the service of the Anglo-American
Telegraph Company, and, as his work does not entail any
arduous duties, he can spend his time in farming, sport, and
in doing a little trade with the Indians. He is one of the only
two men whom the Indians trust and have regular dealings
with, and his fairness and kindness to these nomadic people
have earned for him a reputation which is only shared by
Mr. Leslie^ of Bale d'Espoir. It is no slur on his intelligence
to say that he invariably gets the worst of a bargain, for he
is of that rare kind which does not count success by the
acquisition of money, but rather that he may do unto others

' Mr. Leslie has now left Newfoundland for good, and has settled in Nova
Scotia.

266 NEWFOUNDLAND

as he would be done by. If there were more pioneers in our
colonies of the stamp of Mr. Leslie and Philip Ryan, we should
not hear so much of the treachery of the savage races, nor
the quarrels of the native and incoming white man, for the
deceit and sharp practice of traders always bring in its train
the bottle and the white man's curse. To give an instance
of Mr. Ryan's methods, it is enough to say that whenever
he is absent from home, the key of his house is left under
the door for any wandering Indian to find. The traveller may
open and help himself to what he likes, taking flour, sugar,
bacon, and tobacco. He lights a fire, stops in the house as
long as he likes, and may not be there for another year ; and
yet the owner never loses so much as a darning-needle, nor
does the Indian fail to render to him an accurate account of
the things he has taken, and to pay for them in the skins of
foxes and otters. I wonder in how many Hudson Bay stores
such a state of things would be possible, and yet the managers
of these posts have only themselves to blame for the loss of
confidence.

Ryan's temperament is of the mercurial Irish variety un-
dulled by the lapse of years ; he is sixty, and the hard knocks
of life, of which he has had more than his full share, have not
impaired his joyous disposition. His strength and activity
are extraordinary. It was blowing a good breeze. " Here, "
he shouted one day, as we were returning to Belleoram,
"climb up to the top of that, and we'll hoist the flag of the
Cariboo." Steve looked up sadly to the thin and swaying
topmast, and mumbled something about not wishing to die
just then. "Matty" — to the other Indian — "you're a man;
shin up like a good chap." But Matty shook his head and
looked sheepish.

" God bless my soul ! " ejaculated the old fellow, springing

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2

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Q
2

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2

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TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 267

up, " you boys have no grit nowadays." So, throwintr off
his sea-boots, he seized the line in his teeth, and clambered
up to giddy heights without a stop.

Long Harbor Office, where Ryan lives, is forty miles from
Belleoram, and it took us all day to reach our destination.
In darkness we cast anchor beside a little island. A row of
half a mile brought us to shore, where two Indians, Micky
John and Paddy Hinx, rose to greet us. They told us that
Steve Bernard and John Hinx were both on their way, the
former from Bay Despair, and the latter from his "tilt" up
to the north-east, to meet me ; that I should be able to
start in two days, though no two Indians could get up the
Long Harbor River. This was rather serious news, as I
had hoped to do my trip with two Indians; however, the
difficulty was solved by the arrival on the following day of
Matty Burke and Johnny Benoit, who agreed to come with
me for seven days, and to help Bernard and Hinx with
the boats until the worst of the rapids were passed.

On 2nd October came Steve Bernard, looking considerably
the worse for wear, as the result of one of the inevitable
"sprees" which preludes such trips into the "country." But
the walk of forty-five miles had sobered him, and he was
in that frame of mind which brings a chastened spirit and
a desire for work, having wasted all his money at the shrine
of Bacchus.

Steve is the sole survivor of eleven children born to
old Joe Bernard, late chief of the Newfoundland Micmacs,
all of whom have died from the bottle, consumption, or
strains, the three principal causes which decimate the red
men. He is twenty-eight years old, as strong as a bull, and
good-natured to the highest degree. When he was not
singing mournful Indian dirges and Gregorian chants, he was

268 NEWFOUNDLAND

generally laughing or chaffing John Hinx or the others, and I
found him an excellent guide and hunter in his own province.
Like all the Indians he loved deer hunting, and soon became
proficient with the telescope. His capacity for carrying heavy
weights was extraordinary. " I like to take those," he said
one day, making a grab at my coat, rifle, telescope and
camera, which I had set aside for my own small pack, when
crossing a mountain range, and flinging them on the top
of his hundred-pound pack, "and when we come to the
brook, you climb on top, sir." This I did by way of experi-
ment, and the great weight seemed to trouble him as little
as a fifty-pound pack would harass a white man. In the
rivers he was not the equal of Jeddore, Matty Burke,
or John Hinx, but the Indian nature is nothing if not
acquisitive, for in a few days he worked his pole with
considerable skill and untiring patience.

I spent the remainder of the day in placing my provisions
in linen bags, and making all ready for a rough and watery
trip, and on the morning of 3rd October, accompanied by
Steve Bernard, Matty Burke, and Johnny Benoit, we made
a start up the river.

Matty Burke is a half-bred Frenchman of about thirty-
three. In the river he was invaluable, and very skilful with
the pole. Ashore he was a splendid camp man, being a
good cook and excellent woodman, as all the Indians are.
In appearance he was a picturesque ruffian of the old coureur-
de-bois type, and would have made an excellent stage villain
at the Adelphi. At first he seemed to be of a somewhat
suspicious nature, and was always watching me out of the
corners of his eyes, but this soon wore off, and he became
the gayest of the party when his buoyant Gallic nature
asserted itself.

TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 269

" Those very bad men, them St. Pierre policemen," said
Matty suddenly, one evening, and evidently expecting me
to acquiesce, for the stage villain's eyes flashed, and he was
burning under the injustice of some fancied wrong.

"What did they do to you?"

"Enough — for I would kill them all could I do so.
They are bad men, and take me to prison when I made
not the row. Las' summer I go in a brig to St. Pierre, and
one night in the cafe we had good times — about thirty of
us — English, French, American, and Newfun'lan' fishermen.
I was drunk — yes — very drunk — yet I commence not the
row. Bimeby a feller pull out his knife, so I go for the
door, and tumble on the wooden steps. As I come out a
policeman come in, and we fall together into the street.
Then the devil he grab me, and say I must go to the prison
house with him, which I not like, and so resist him much.
He take me by the arm, so I hit him with all my strength
between the eyes, and he drop like a shot stag. Just then
I try to run, but my legs are no use, when four more police-
men come up and put iron things on my hands ; but I fight
hard and bite two of them all over, so that we are all
covered with blood. Then they are too strong for me, and
they put me in a cold stone house where I cannot get out,
though I tried hard. In the morning I say to the man that
lock the door, ' I give you four dollars if you let me out,'
but he only laugh and say I must see de magistrate. Dat
feller makes me pay ten dollars, all I had. The cunning
rascal, he puts it in his pocket to get drunk with no doubt.
It was all too bad. I done nothing, and not commence the
row." Simple Matty, he could not understand that getting
blind drunk and half-killing a gendarme was not the best
way to behave in a foreign port.

270 NEWFOUNDLAND

"You should a got jailed in Harbour Breton,"^ remarked
Steve, with a sly twinkle in his eye. "That's the place to
enjoy yourself. Nicholas Jeddore he got put in prison there
— two falls ago — for setting de woods afire. He said he's
never had so many Christmas dinners afore, an' all the
people were wonderful kind. All day he could go about
wherever he liked, and used to fish and make little canoes
for de children. An' at night all he had to do was to go
and report himself, and sleep in the most comfortable bed
he'd ever seen. He was quite sorry to go home, and said
next time things were rough he's goin' to ask to be took
back."

Johnny Benoit was of quite a different type, a visionary
boy of eighteen, with great, big, dreamy black eyes. He
had the sort of expression that sees " God in clouds, and
hears Him in the wind." He was very good-looking, but
did not like work, partly because one of his arms was half
paralysed through rolling logs when he was too young, and
partly because he had fallen over a precipice two years
previously and been half-killed. But he was a nice, amiable
creature, and with his dislike for labour, quaint thoughts,
and sweet far-away expression, would have made a successful
minor poet at home.

The first few miles of the river were easy, so I worked
in the big canoe, and we made good progress with our poles.
Towards evening, however, the stream became shallow and
rocky, and we had a taste of what the Long Harbor River
was like — endless falls, boiling runs, and sudden "drops" where
lifts were necessary. At sunset we reached a very bad place
above a birchy island, where a portage of everything for half
a mile landed us on a high shelf of rocks, where we made

' The Government prison on the south coast.

Nkwfounuland jMICMACS

Huw TO Carry a Head to Camp

TO MX. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 271

camp for the night. As we sat at supper a shout in the
woods announced the advent of Johnny Hinx, who arrived
tired and cheerful after a thirty-five mile walk from his " tilt."

John Hinx, a typical half-breed of an English father and
Indian mother, is one of the most experienced men in the
island. He has been all over the south and central portions,
and has made his living by trapping and log-cutting since
he was ten years of age, and is now fifty, though in appear-
ance he might have passed for thirty-five. He became my
cook and camp man, but was, nevertheless, an excellent
hunter, and always accompanied Steve and me on our tramps
after deer, when his sharp eyes were sometimes responsible
for some outlying stag which we had overlooked. He pos-
sessed a great knowledge of the deer and their movements,
and what he did not know of otters and otter-trapping was
not of much account. He was tall and good-looking, spoke
broken English, and, being fearful of being misunderstood,
was at first somewhat reticent, but as time wore on he would
chatter as freely as Steve, and entertain us with tales of
flood and forest that always had some interesting point.
One night he told me a story that was in itself an object-
lesson, as illustrating the reasons why the red man hates and
distrusts the white.

When John Hinx was eighteen he was the sole support
of a widowed mother and a sister in Baie d'Espoir, so he
hired himself to the boss of a mill in Gambo for a year at
twenty dollars a month. In the spring he cut logs, in summer
he cooked daily for a large camp of thirty men, and in the
fall he shot deer and carried them on his back to camp.
The year went by, and he demanded his money, wishing to
return home, but after promises of increased wages he was
induced to stop another nine months, and to work harder

272 NEWFOUNDLAND

than ever ; always, too, with the thought of how pleased his
mother would be when she saw her son again with plenty
of money in his pocket. At last the time came when he
would stay no longer, so he demanded his wages, and pre-
pared to travel. What was his consternation when the mill
manager said he was quite unable to pay him a cent, and
that he must wait until better times. The excuse given was
that two cargoes of lumber had been lost in transit to St.
John's (these Hinx ascertained afterwards had safely reached
St. John's, and been sold at a good price). Weary, dis-
pirited, and without food or money, the poor Indian set out
in the dead of winter to cross the island, from Gambo to
Conn River, nine days' hard walking. The snow fell un-
ceasingly, the deer were all away to the south, and with
ragged clothes, and madness in his brain, he tramped the
long trail like some hungry wolf ranging the winter forests.
More dead than alive he reached his mother's home at last.
Thirty years have gone by since those days, but the bitter-
ness of it all still remained in the Indian trapper's heart, and
I should not like to be that cheat of the Gambo mill if John
Hinx were to meet him alone in the woods one day. It is
possible that the account might be settled.

The night of 3rd October was the coldest I have
experienced in the island. Fifteen degrees of frost were
registered, and everything — eggs, butter, &c. — was frozen
solid ; but on the following morning a bright sun, playing
on the jewelled leaves and grasses, caused a thaw, and the
Indians were able to make fair headway in the worst river I
have seen in Newfoundland. It is a very bad stream, where
Indians have to get overboard and haul the canoe by main
force through the cold water, but this they had to do the
whole of 4th October, and the three following days. Yet

TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 273

with wonderful patience and good nature they worried on at
their task, whilst Johnny Benoit, who was little use in the
river, and I marched ahead over the bare open hills of sand
and stone, and looked for mythical willow grouse. The
Indians were dying for fresh meat, and I did my best to find
game of some sort, and the only luck I achieved was on
5th October, when I encountered a covey of six grouse, all
of which I killed by blowing their heads off with bullets from
the Mannlicher. Fortunately they were very tame, and only
flew a short distance after I had killed the first two, when
the remainder sat on a rock and stared within ten yards
before meeting their fate.

Until recently the willow grouse {Lagopus terra-novce)
was very abundant in Newfoundland, and his cheery call, so
like that of our own grouse, could be heard at all seasons
in the barrens near the coast. In October the sportsmen of
St. John's are accustomed to go for a few days' shooting to
the barrens about Placentia, St. Mary's Bay — in fact, to all the
accessible parts of the south coast — and to hunt in company
with some local guide and a brace or two of pointers and
setters. Until 1903 excellent sport was to be had, as many
as twenty and even thirty brace being killed in a day ; but of
recent years a great diminution has taken place amongst the
birds, for now eight to ten brace would be considered a good
bag in the best places. Many reasons have been assigned
for this depreciation in the stock, but none of them seem to
explain matters satisfactorily. In fact, everything is in favour
of the grouse, since predatory animals, their chief foes, are
becoming very scarce, and no one molests the birds during
the breeding season. Over-shooting will not give the correct
answer, because the grouse are now just as sparsely distri-
buted through the immense tracts of unshot ground, where

274 NEWFOUNDLAND

formerly they were exceedingly abundant, as in the places
where the gunners go. Mr. Leslie^ attributes the scarcity of
grouse in the interior to forest fires, and has several times
seen coveys overwhelmed and stupefied by the smoke. Cer-
tainly in the course of my travels in the central parts of the
island, I have seen but two coveys of grouse and one covey
of the rare Newfoundland ptarmigan {Lagopus Leachii). Only
in the barrens between the upper parts of the Long Harbor
and Mount Sylvester have I seen a fair stock of grouse. I
think that a series of cold and wet summers following in
succession have had much to do with the inadequate supply
of birds.

The habits of the Newfoundland willow grouse are iden-
tical with the Dal Ripa of Norway, which are too well known
to need any description. These western birds are, however,
much tamer, but are similar in their migratory habits, or,
it would be more correct to say, local movements. At
times they fly in large bodies from one district to another,
and often visit the outer islands on the east coast, some far
from land, such as the Groais Islands.

The Newfoundland ptarmigan [Lagopus Leachii) is now
becoming a somewhat scarce and local species. It exists in
most of the mountains near the coast in Hermitage Bay, on
the Iron Skull in Fortune Bay, and in the Long Range
Mountains and hills between Victoria and Red Indian Lakes.
It is slightly smaller than the European species, but its habits
are similar.

On this day the river became so impossible just above a
large waterfall, that we had to resort to a portage of one

' Mr. Leslie has seen caribou in winter digging out the moss, and followed by a
crowd of willow grouse. As soon as the deer vacated the holes the birds dived in to
get at the partridge-berries.

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TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 275

and a half miles to clear the worst of the rocks. In conse-
quence, our progress was very slow — sometimes not more
than four or five miles per diem were made.

On the upper part of the Long Harbor River I noticed
considerable quantities of a coarse native wild hay, of such
a quality, too, that ponies would thrive upon it during the
summer months. On the Gander it is found in abundance
for the first twenty miles, but disappears immediately above
" Rolling Falls," where the country becomes more high and
exposed. It is also found in quantities in the Gould Valley
(Conception Bay), and about Colinet (St. Mary's Bay), whilst
the people of the west coast bring down boat-loads every
autumn from Codroy, Fischel's, Robinson's, St, George's, and
the Humber Rivers. I have seen a few horses on the Gander
in very good condition through living on this native hay, and
there is no reason why pony-raising should not be a profit-
able industry amongst the people of the south and west
coast, if they would only import and breed the right kind of
pony. A few of these animals are bred on the west coast —
poor weedy beasts, which are destined to transportation for
life in the Cape Breton coal mines, and all they are fitted
for. But a better class of horse is needed, one something of
the rough nature of the Welsh pony or the Norwegian
carriole pony, which could live hard, stand snow and bad
times, possess some pace, and pick up quickly in the spring
and summer on native grass and plants.

The prospect of a better river in a day or two soon put
us in good spirits. The worst was over, said John, and we
should only encounter two more days of rough water before
finding " steadies " and the inevitable chain of lakes which
intersect the summit of the plateaux. All night long the
Indians sat up in their stuffy little "tilt," alternately eating,

276 NEWFOUNDLAND

stitching fresh moccasins, and chattering in their melHfluous
dialect. Sometimes they slept an hour or two, and then rose
again to replenish the fires and roast bits of grouse. The
next day, however, heralded in a deluge, with equinoctial gales
which lasted all day. I went out for several miles on to a
high stony country, and found deer plentiful, seeing two old
stags and fifty-four does. We crossed the river twice, which
took Steve to his waist as he ferried me over, and returned
in the evening soaked to the skin by the drenching rain.

The next day was fine, so we started for the north again,
encountering numerous rapids and small waterfalls, but in the
evening some welcome "steadies" appeared, and we paddled
up these until we reached the first of the chain of little lakes
known to the Indians as "Podopsk." October loth saw the
last of our struggles with the river, when at midday we
arrived at a fine lake which has no title, and which I have
named " Lake Prowse," after the Judge. It is a fair-sized
sheet of water, about two and a half miles long, in the shape
of an equilateral triangle. The left bank is clothed in heavy
woods, almost the first we had seen since leaving Long
Harbor, and a single large island, a mile long, exists on the
east side. Fortunately, there was only a gentle breeze at our
backs, so we made good time over the open waters, and, after
hauling up over heavy rapids at the north end, finished our
canoe journey for a time. Here Matty Burke and Johnny
Benoit left us for their trapping-grounds in the neighbour-
hood of the "Tolt" Mountain, about thirty miles to the
south-east. They promised to help us down the river at the
beginning of November.

My plan was now to " cache " the greater part of my
provisions under the two canoes, and to carry as much as
possible away to the west over the range known to the

TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 277

Indians as the Kesoquit Hills, and to make my outside camps
in a droke of woods amongst these mountains, and another
still farther to the west in another droke on Shoe Hill
Ridge, in the centre of Steve's trapping-ground. Steve had
told me that the latter position commanded wide views for
miles, which embraced an area to the north from Maelpeg
to Mount Sylvester, and along which the main body of
travelling deer came every fall. Both these camps would
also be central for making expeditions into the unknown
territory to the north-east and west.

CHAPTER XV

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING ON THE SHOE HILL AND
KESOQUIT RIDGES

The whole character of the country from Fortune Bay to
Mount Sylvester is different from that of any other part of
the island which I have seen, except the immediate neigh-
bourhood of Partridgeberry Hill, in Central Newfoundland.
The landscape is open, with rolling hills stretching away to
the distant horizon. Here and there are little rocky eminences,
locally designated as " knaps," from which miles of country
may be easily spied. Marshes are few and small, and the
whole ground is covered with reindeer moss, with a few
blueberry patches. Sometimes one sees a sprinkling of
scattered larches from seven to ten feet high, whilst tiny
spruce forests, of some dwarf variety which never exceeds
three and a half feet in height, cover many of the summits
of the ridges. At a distance these little spruce woods look
like grass or moss, and they are of such small stature that
a passage between them looks easy ; but if you are so un-
fortunate as to find your way into their midst, nothing remains
but retreat, or a short cut to the nearest hard ground, for the
deceptive bush is a mass of interlaced boughs of great strength,
which makes progression extremely arduous, and at times
impossible. No Indian walks through "tufts," as these dwarf
forests are called, unless he is forced to do so, and the
employment of Steve, who knows every deer and rabbit
path in Shoe Hill and Kesoquit, was the means of avoiding

much arduous labour.

278

-^?^' ^ _I-<J'>--

The Miduay Sleep on the Lake Edge

During the Rut the Herd Stag remains for many hours each day
in this curious attitude

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 279

On the whole, the walking in this district was the best I
have ever seen in any country where big game are to be
found. During three weeks' hunting I never had wet feet,
although only shod in ordinary shooting boots. Nor did I
ever feel tired, although we had some long days and pro-
tracted runs to cut off travelling stags.

After an excellent dinner, and having deposited all our
spare stores under the canoes, the Indians shouldered two
huge packs of about lOO lbs. each, and we started up the
Kesoquit Hills. The summit of the range was about 400
feet above the river, and from this point we obtained a
splendid view in all directions except the north. The Tolt
and the three hills above Long Harbor were plainly visible,
and on this day, one of exceptional brightness, the rugged
headland above Belleoram, known as the Iron Skull, was
plainly visible. As we " took a spell " I worked the glass for
some time, and only found a few small deer. The absence
of stags was explained by Steve by the fact that the ground
was too full of "tufts," which deer dislike as much as man.

Then came a walk over an ideal hunting-ground of great
rolling corries, intersected by little lakes and marshes, which
brought us to the only wood in the district south of the
Maelpeg. It is known as Kesoquit " droke." Here for many
years has been the hunting quarters of the Johns,^ although
it is now abandoned by them, and only the rough log "tilt"
being used as a rest-house by Steve Bernard and Micky John
on their travels to and fro. The place was a perfect one for
a camp, as the wood was full of dry sticks, and there was
a small lake at one side. Here one only had to run a
few yards to the west where a fine view of one of the

' The Johns are an old family of Mountaineer Indians which came originally
from Labrador.

280 NEWFOUNDLAND

best valleys for deer in Newfoundland spreads itself out
for miles.

Along these valleys and hills deer were constantly passing,
and during the rutting season a company or two were gene-
rally in view at any time of day from our look-out. Close to
the camp was the greater part of a doe which Micky John
had killed in the previous week, so I spent the next day in
walking to the Great Maelpeg Lake, and following the course
of two other unnamed lakes, which connect this large sheet
of water with Prowse's Lake, and doing some mapping. We
saw several stags, with herds of does numbering from five to
twelve individuals, and they were all very tame and unsophis-
ticated, as the wind was strong. In the evening it commenced
to rain in the usual Newfoundland fashion, and we were glad
to spread my waterproof sheet over the leaky "tilt" and so
make things snug. For three days abominable weather,
accompanied by damp fog, continued, so there was nothing
to do but sit at home and wait for the weather to improve.
On the 15th it cleared up, and we received a visit from Micky
John and a little boy of nine — his nephew, named Steve
John — who were on their way to Sambadesta (St. John's
Lake), where they meant to spend the fall trapping " wood-
cats " (martens). Between them they had a broken gun,
no tent-sheet, and about enough provisions to last, with a
stretch, a fortnight. They arrived soaked to the skin, but
in nowise discouraged, for the disposition of these nomads
is nothing if not hopeful, and they would talk of no other
subject but the pile of skins they hoped to gather. With
them came Johnny Hinx, my John's youngest son, a boy of
eighteen, a splendidly set-up young fellow, happy in the posses-
sion of two hungry-looking dogs and a gun as long as himself.

We all broke camp on the morning of the i6th, each

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 281

party going in a different direction. For three hours we held
due west over the top of the Shoe Hill Range, finally dropping
down to a snug droke where I intended to make my main
hunting camp. The day was very fine, and I saw two very
large stags, with poor heads, and again in the evening two
more, each with his band of does. All these I approached
and examined at close range to observe their movements for
some time. Nearly every company had a " watch " doe,
which did not feed, but kept gazing in different directions all
the time. The big stag at this season takes little notice of
man even if he sees him, and if you grunt at him, he will come
running in your direction to answer your challenge, but he
invariably stops at some distance, as if loath to leave his wives,
towards whom he frequently glances, whereas an "unattached"
stag — that is, one travelling and on the look-out for fresh does
— will not only answer your call, but will come right up to
within a few yards of your position. I proved this many
times during this fall, and was so successful in "tolling" two
of these travelling stags, that I had to heave rocks at them
to keep them off.

Immediately the leading doe gives the signal of alarm,
the stag is the first to appreciate its true import. The does
are full of curiosity, and wish to stop and gaze at the strange
individual ; but the stag knows only too well what the danger
is, so he bends his neck, rounds up his harem, and rattles them
off at full gallop whether they wish it or not. During these
preliminary evolutions the young stag, which usually hangs
on the outskirts of every troop, tries to do a little love-making
on his own account by running away with some of the fair
ones. The speed and activity of the master-stag are then
worth seeing. He rushes madly at the rash youngster, who
is always just too quick for him, and so they race over the

282 NEWFOUNDLAND

hills in a ding-dong chase, until the big fellow finds he has
achieved a moral victory.

The country to the west, known as Shoe Hill, forms itself
into a great basin, in the centre of which was a lake, which
I have named Shoe Hill Lake. On all sides of this piece
of water the ground, which is quite open and stony, like
Norwegian reindeer country, rises to several hundred feet,
except to the west, where the land falls abruptly to the big
lake, known in Howley's map as " Jubilee " Lake, and to the
Indians as " Sandy Pond." Seated on the ridge, about one
mile to the west of Shoe Hill droke, we could survey the
whole of this vast amphitheatre, and during the next few days
I found there many a fine stag with his attendant wives. By
watching from various points with the telescope, I could pick
up three stags to one that the Indians could see, even with
their sharp eyes, so that Steve acknowledged the superiority
of the glass and was industrious in learning its use. I found
that on sitting down to spy, far the best plan was to survey
the whole of the lake edges and then to take every small
marsh in turn in the vicinity of the water. The reasons for
the deer halting and resting at midday on the shores is ex-
plained by the fact that they travel all night from some distant
point and are stopped by any large sheet of water, which they
do not like to cross at night. At dawn the does begin feeding
on the moss, and as the sun warms all things, they lie down
and rest for several hours, or stand motionless with drooping
ears. In spite of their size, it is not always easy to detect
them, so well do their brown coats harmonise with stones.
Often a herd remains in the same spot for several days if
undisturbed.

It was some days before I found a stag with a fine head.
I was watching a restless old fellow trying to move his

John Hinx and a large Thirty-five Pointer

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 283

harem from the lake edge, a proceeding they seemed to resent,
being both warm and comfortable. But a four-year-old had
just gone by and had made the master jealous and uneasy,
so he went gently poking one fair lady after another with his
long, spindly horns, and as fast as he got one up and moved
to another, the disturbed one treated him to a look of contempt
and lay down again. He gave it up at last, and scratched
his head with his hind foot as much as to say, " It's no use
arguing with the women."

"I tink those haliboo" (deer), said John, pointing his
finger towards a lot of white spots that looked like stones
two miles away on the ridge above Sandy Pond. The glass
was upon them, and proved that the Indian was right. Fifteen
does all asleep, and one great stag, with massive horns, lying
in the middle.

It was just like a stalk in Scotland. We ascended the hill,
and again took a look at the herd. The stag alone was awake
now, and, with his head up, was looking about in an uneasy
manner. What a noble fellow, and certainly the largest
framed head I had yet seen. If only both his brows were
as good as the one great shovel I saw on the left horn,
he must be everything a hunter could desire. But alas,
as he turned to me I saw the common hook that did
duty for the left brow, and knew he was deficient in one
respect.

However, the head was a great massive one, and I meant
to kill him if possible, so we hurried on to get nearer in case
the wind should drop. When within 600 yards of the ridge
on which the deer lay, we encountered one of those awful
little forests of tufts, through which it was absolutely necessary
to force one's way, unless we were prepared for a mile circuit.
It was only about 300 yards broad, but held us in its octopus

284 NEWFOUNDLAND

arms every yard of the way till we arrived breathless and
bathed in perspiration on the other side. After this we took
a short spell to get cool, and then, again circling round more
isolated patches of spruce, we decided that the deer were
now up-wind and immediately below us. So down we went,
keeping a sharp look-out.

Being in front, I soon detected the horns of the stag as
he moved along, keeping the does together. They were all
passing slowly to the west, most of the does feeding, and
would cross our front about 150 yards to the left. Being
on the sky-line it was now necessary for us to crawl some
distance without being seen, when we found that the only
cover consisted of a belt of spruce fully three feet high,
over which the shot must be taken. Slowly the does, led
by an old, hornless female, came walking up the hill, stopping
at intervals to crop the moss and gaze about, and after what
seemed an age, the great stag, with lowered head, came
"nosing" along on their tracks. I raised myself to look over
the spruce, when one of the does saw me, and began moving
about with bristling stern, a sure sign of danger. The others
at once took the hint and gave a preliminary rush. On
standing again, the stag was completely surrounded by does at
a distance of 100 yards, so I could not shoot until the whole
company were again on the move. It was not long before
they strung out prior to leaving for good, when I fired from
the shoulder, standing up, and struck the stag high in the
neck, but without breaking it. He shook his head and spun
round once or twice, and then dashed off after the retreating
herd. For one moment he gave me a broadside, when I
fired again and dropped him stone dead, with a bullet at the
side of the skull. The horns of this stag were better than
I had at first supposed them to be. They were as massive

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 285

as any that can be found in the island, and the whole head
would have been an extraordinary one but for the hooky point
that did duty for the right brow.

After taking off the head, we rested and had dinner in the
rain above Walnanikiak (Jubilee Lake), where Steve had his
trapping tilt, and then, moving eastward, it cleared up, and
Steve made a splendid spy, fully two and a half miles away, of
a big herd of deer, with two large stags. Although we had
been marching since daybreak, none of us were tired, so we
at once set off over ground full of rocks and moss towards
the lake of Keskitpegawi, where Steve had seen the game.
If you want to be successful in Newfoundland, or anywhere
else for that matter, you must not mind walking, even if it
often leads to no result. In this case the stags were both
old beasts with poor horns ; one of them had broken his
right antler in the centre of the beam, and was the first of
nine stags which I afterwards saw similarly disfigured. In
Scotland adult red stags only fight occasionally, whereas the
reindeer males all fight whenever the opportunity occurs,
and their horns being more brittle than those of red deer,
wapiti, or moose, they are often devoid of points or pieces
of the horns at the end of the rutting season. Nearly every
adult stag had a point or two knocked off by the end of
October, and one stag that I observed on 3rd November had
both horns broken off close to the burr.

After remaining for some days at Shoe Hill, we decided
to go on a three days' tramp to Mount Sylvester, to ascend
the mountain and to hunt for fresh ground. The Indians
were quite as interested at the prospect of visiting Sylvester
as myself, as neither of them had been there, and both
regarded the hill with a certain superstitious veneration.
It is a saying amongst them that he who visits Sylvester

286 NEWFOUNDLAND

for the first time^ and leaves a present there, in the Httle
black cave near the top, will obtain his desire — whatever
it may be. In this dark retreat dwells the spirit of the
mountain, who takes no heed of rich or poor, and receives
with favour the gift, however trifling, provided it is given
with reverence. As the visitors to Sylvester, red or white,
number about half a dozen, the fortunate people in New-
foundland are reduced to a negligible quantity. However,
the superstition is firmly imprinted in the Indian mind, and
they would resent as an affront the attitude of any one who
doubted the efficacy of the spirit's power."

The distance to the mountain from our camp was about
seven miles, and as it was a bright warm day with a fresh
breeze from the west, the Indians made light of their heavy
packs, and stepped along as fast as I cared to walk. Three
miles to the north we skirted the lake of Keskitpegawi,
where we passed two fine herds of caribou resting on the
lake edge, and, continuing our journey, were about to take
dinner on the bridge of land that separates this lake from
Tamnapegawi, when I saw a big stag standing up on a
knoll close to the last-named sheet of water. Leaving
John Hinx to light a fire and prepare dinner, Steve and
I made a wide circuit of half a mile and then dropped down
a gentle slope covered with small spruce to within 300 yards
of the herd. Here I had a good look at the stag's head,
which, though not large, seemed well furnished with points.
After a long survey I decided to let him go, so sent Steve
to move the deer, whilst I ensconced myself in an angle of
the lake along which I felt certain the stag must pass.

1 Subsequent visits and presents are said to be of no use.

^ As far as I could ascertain, Mount Sylvester is the only place in Newfoundland
about which the Micmacs have any superstitions.

I CALLED THIS StAG TO WITHIN TEN YARDS OK THE CAMERA

The Love Chase

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 287

Thus I hoped to obtain a good photograph, as both the
light and the wind were favourable. I had hardly got
into position when the does got up and raced past me, and
then, seeing the stag about to follow, I saw his horns facing
me for the first time. As he came on he looked better
and better, so at last I put down the camera and picked
up the rifle, not a moment too soon, when I killed him
with a shot as he went by. He proved to be a good thirty-
nine pointer, with thick, though somewhat short horns.

After dinner we entered a different country to the bare
stony ridges of Shoe Hill. Now it was all rolling hills,
with small forests on either flank, and numerous little ponds
and marshes, perfect early autumn deer ground. By-and-
by I saw a big stag chasing two or three does out of one
of these woods, and by a judicious cross cut caught him
with the camera at twenty yards as he pursued his restless
wives.

This stalking with a camera is great fun. You have
many failures, and a few successes, whilst the best chance
always occurs on a rainy day or when the camera has been
left in camp. One evening, about a fortnight after this,
I saw a small calf on a stony ridge above a lake. As it
kept looking back into a deep hollow, I knew the mother
and probably others were there. It was blowing hard, so
Steve and I got within five yards of the calf just as it threw
up its tail and dashed off down-wind. Now, the mother
and a great heavy stag who was her companion had just
caught a glimpse of the white flag when it was raised,
and so started to pursue the path followed by the calf.
Steve and I lay behind a large boulder directly in their path,
so that the pair actually passed our station at a distance of
three yards — a unique opportunity for a picture which could

288 NEWFOUNDLAND

not be taken. As it was, I threw my hat on to the stag's
back, where it rested a moment, to his complete conster-
nation. Sometimes I "tolled" travelling stags, and photo-
graphed them within a short distance ; but most of these
were failures, as they were generally taken in the early
morning. However, I got one or two successes, as well
as taking a fine stag within a few yards as he lay asleep.
If you have patience, are a skilled stalker, and are favoured
by a strong wind, you can do what you like with the stag,
provided he is alotie}

We were now within two miles of Sylvester, and had
ascended a wooded hill and looked over when a lovely
scene burst upon our view. A deep valley, crowned with
heavy timber on each side, lay before us. At the base was
a huge marsh two miles in length, whilst beyond it, Sylvester,
in all its beauty, sprang directly out of the earth in one
great cone. The lower slopes were densely wooded, but
within 300 feet of the summit it was quite bare, and pre-
cipitous on the south side. The sun was setting and flooded
the whole landscape with gold, disclosing three large com-
panies of caribou, each governed by a master-stag. It was
a scene that I shall always remember ; one that the hunter
sees in his dreams but seldom experiences, and which will
live in the memory when my hunting days are past.

Our prayers for a calm day to ascend Sylvester were
answered, and we were up before daybreak, on one of the
finest days I can remember. There was just a touch of

' Speaking of the extraordinary tameness of single deer when carefully
approached, Cormack says (p. 32) : "A single deer on the plain, when there are no
others near to sound the alarm, may be approached and knocked down by a blow
on the head with an axe or tomahawk from a dexterous hunter. We happened to
see a solitary stag amusing himself by rubbing his antlers against a larch-tree on a
plain ; my Indian, treading lightly, approached him from behind, and struck him on
the head with his axe, but did not knock him down ; he of course galloped off."

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 289

frost, and as the sun rose I was out on a point of rock
surveying the herds of deer far below our camp, and watch-
ing the golden light steal up the green and slate slopes of
the mountain. We made an early start, as it was two miles
to the base of the mountain. Whilst travelling I had already
spied and rejected the three master-stags we had seen the
night before. Whilst crossing the great marsh I saw two
stags fighting on the side of Sylvester, but they retired
into the wood, and we lost sight of them.

Near the north end of the marsh, and just at the base
of the mountain, were situated the most remarkable deer
trails I have seen in Newfoundland. These roads all
debouched from one main road as wide and deep as a
Devonshire lane. This path, we found, came right over
the eastern shoulder of Mount Sylvester, and was the main
"fall" trail which is trodden by tens of thousands of hurry-
ing feet every November. W. Cormack, who was the first
man to discover Sylvester, which he named after his faith-
ful Indian follower, bore testimony to the abundance of
deer trails at this point, and doubtless there is little altera-
tion since the days when he wrote (1822). The path led
upwards over the mountain for several hundred feet, and
then branched to the left, where the side of the hill was
cut into shallow chasms about 30 feet deep, in which grew
spruces and vars. The ascent now became steep, and for
the last 400 feet the mountain was bare, or covered with
small Alpine flora. Near the top we visited the little black
cave where the "spirit" of the mountain dwelt, and each
of us deposited our offering in the shape of coins and
cartridges.

Steve's wish was grossly material, and went no farther
than a suit of new clothes ; I naturally desired a fifty-pointer ;

290 NEWFOUNDLAND

whilst John was distinctly romantic, and went as far as to
hope for a new wife on whom he had already fixed his
affections somewhere down in Bale d'Espoir. Steve's wish
was realised, and mine too, in a measure, for the kindly
ghost, although he did not actually produce a fifty-pointer,
gave me what was probably the best head in Central New-
foundland, whilst from the last accounts I heard of John, he
was making the running at such a terrific pace that no girl,
however fastidious, was likely to withstand him.

The view from the top of this beautiful mountain is one
of the best in Newfoundland. It was a clear day, and we
could see nearly seventy miles in every direction. It seems
as if a line had been drawn across the island, clearly cutting
off all the forest and marsh country to the north and west
from the bare and open stony hills of the south. To the
north and north-west was the long line of the Middle Ridge
clothed in a great sea of dense woods which stretch without
a break from Burnt Hill on the Gander to Glenwood, Terra-
Nova, and Cloete Sound to the east. Here and there dark
patches of the highest woods crop up round St. John's Lake and
N'Moochwaygodie (Bond's Lake), a large pond about five miles
to the west of St. John's Lake, and the last unvisited and
unmapped lake of any size in Eastern Newfoundland. About
fifteen miles to the north-east are two ranges of low hills, known
to the Indians as Smooth Ridge and Burnt Hills, and leading
up to these and connected also with Kagudeck is a brook
which passes through three small lakes which I have named
Steve Bernard's, John Hinx's, and John Stride's Ponds, the
last-named being the hunting-ground of the trapper of that
name. Due east, in the open country, is the large lake
known to the Indians as the (Eastern) Maelpeg (the lake of
many indentations). It has never been properly surveyed.

Dawn — A Successful Snap-shot at 6 a.m., October 30, 1906

.A (;ooi) Hkad

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 291

as Mr. Howley had not time to do this on his short visit to
Sylvester, and it would take a man three weeks to mark
all its sinuous bays and hundred islands. To the south-east
were the lakes of Keskitpegawi, Tamnapegawi,^ and another
small one about a mile long, whilst close under the mountain
were three other ponds of moderate size. Kagudeck, where
Reuben Lewis hunts, is a large lake surrounded by heavy
woods, and is situated about five miles to the west, and by
means of the Bay de Nord waters it would not be difficult
to ascend from Fortune Bay to this lake, and so on to Smooth
Ridge, where the head waters of the Terra-Nova rise, and
so pass eastwards down St. John's Lake and Mollygojack
to the sea.

I remained for some hours on the summit, enjoying the
lovely view and sketching in the various features of the
landscape. Tiny little spots of white and brown away at
the base of the mountain to the north showed two companies
of deer, each with a big stag, restlessly wandering from one
forest to another. About 2 p.m. we grew chilly from inaction,
and so descended to the woods and had an excellent dinner.
In the evening we again crossed the big marsh towards our
camp, and spent some time in watching a stag chasing a
doe in and out of the woods. He seemed to carry a fine
head, but when at last I obtained a good view with the
glass, the result was disappointing. From our camp I spied
the big herd which had settled by a small lake about a mile
to the west. This was the largest herd of breeding deer —
eighteen does and one big stag with a bad head — I had
seen ; but a newcomer had joined them since the morning,
and I was anxious to inspect him at close quarters. The
stag which had lately arrived was quite hornless — in fact a

' I have retained the Indian names for these waters.

292 NEWFOUNDLAND

"hummel," or "nott," as these hornless stags are called in
Newfoundland. He was an immense beast, quite the largest
stag I saw on this trip, and did not appear to have a vestige
of horn or even the knobs which denote the presence of
pedicles. In Scotland the "hummel" is generally the master
of any horned stag, and few can withstand him ; but in this
case the hornless stag hung around for more than two hours,
watching an opportunity to dash off with some of the does,
but without success, for the horned master seemed to inspire
him with considerable fear. Next morning he had gone.

The perfect Indian summer continued as we started on
our return journey to Shoe Hill Ridge. It was a hot day,
and the men seemed to feel their heavy packs for the first
time. We had passed several small troops of deer, and
were making our way over the land bridge between Kes-
kitpegawi and Tamnapegawi, having almost reached the spot
where we had left the head of the thirty-nine pointer, when
Steve, who was in front at the moment, suddenly stopped,
looked up, and said, " Haliboo — steks — haskajit " (Deer, a
stag, a very big one).

I looked, but could see nothing but some horns sticking
out of a small forest of dwarf spruces about 200 yards away.
Thinking that Steve was playing some joke because the
horns were lying on one side, like those of a dead stag, I
sat down and pretended to have been taken in, laughing
the while. But Steve was serious, and the glass showed
at once that the horns were of great size, and, by their
colour, like those worn by a living deer. We left the packs
and crept within 100 yards. The stag was either dead or
dog-tired and fast asleep, for nothing moved when I whistled.
I now made a mistake and went up to within 50 yards,
always a foolish thing to do, as the close proximity of

Great Deer Roau near Mount Svlvester

The Summit of Mount Sylvester, showing the
LITTLE Black Cave

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 293

man is apt to scare a deer when it is lying down, especially
an old stag. We waited half-an-hour, but the stag refused
to move, then at last he lifted his horns and showed the
whole of his bays, tops and brows, after a perfect chorus
of whistles and grunts on our part. What a head! It must
be the best in Newfoundland, such middle palms as neither
I nor the Indians had ever seen before. I blessed the
Sylvester spook and sat down on Steve's knee — a second
error — and prepared to take the shot, for I could not see
over the " tufts " without some such support.

If nothing will move a stolid deer, the snapping of a
stick is nearly always effectual. John pulled over a rotten
branch, and the stag at once sprang to his feet and bolted
at full speed. I fired and missed handsomely, but stood up
and prepared for a second shot, as I felt sure he would
stand before his final departure. It was as I thought. The
noble fellow sprang round to take a last look, at about 120
yards, and had scarcely stopped when, concentrating all my
forces to be steady, I pressed the trigger and planted a bullet
through the lungs. There was a satisfactory " plunk," the
forty-five pointer reeled, threw up his head, and then fell
to the ground quite dead.

How we rushed up to survey our prize, what mutual
congratulations passed, what encomiums were lavished on
the Spirit of the Mountain, and what a talk we had on big
heads, I leave the reader to imagine. Neither the Indians
nor myself had seen such wonderful middle palms — twenty-
two large points on the two.

The sun was shining brilliantly, so I managed to take
some excellent photographs, and the day being still young,
we sat and skinned the head and enjoyed an excellent
dinner, after which the Indians skinned and cleaned the

294 NEWFOUNDLAND

shanks for moccasins. About one o'clock we resumed our
journey, John carrying the big head, and Steve the thirty-
nine pointer, which we now recovered. Exceptional luck
had favoured us on this little trip to Sylvester, but more
good fortune was in store before the evening closed
in. About 3 p.m. I spied a large company of deer, with
a very big master - stag, which after some discussion we
decided to spare. Then we ran right on the top of a
fine stag with three does, about two miles from Shoe Hill
and close to the southern end of Keskitpegawi, and whilst
I was watching these, Steve spied no fewer than three
scattered companies upon a hill to the east, about two miles
away. One troop was exactly on the sky-line, and with the
aid of the glass I could see that it contained an exceptionally
fine stag with splendid tops. Evening was closing in, and
the walk would take us at least five miles out of our way
from camp, wherefore I sent John on the road home, and
with Steve relieved of his pack, made all speed for the hills.
The walking here was splendid — a great deal better than
the principal streets of Montreal — so we made good time, in
spite of a considerable circuit to gain the wind, and to avoid
scattered deer which appeared in all directions.

When we arrived at the ridge and looked for our deer
they had moved, so we worked up-wind for some distance
before we struck them travelling over the sky-line towards
Kesoquit. Two of the does looked scared and kept running
a few yards, so they may have caught a glimpse of us
as we ascended the hill, but the stag was very active and
would not let them run, and thus played into our hands. The
country, however, was perfectly bare and open, and I could
not, even after much running and manoeuvring, get nearer
than 200 yards, at which distance the master-stag offered me

Massive Thirtv-five Pointer Shot near Jubilee Lake,
October 1906

Mount Sylvester

OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 295

a broadside. I tried to get nearer and nearly lost my chance,
as the leading does ran and he prepared to follow. Seeing
that it was a case of now or never, I lay down, and taking
the 200 yards sight very full, pulled, and heard the bullet
strike. The stag ran a few yards after the herd and then
stopped, when a second bullet, hitting him high in the neck,
dropped him on the spot. In the evening and on the sky-
line his horns had appeared to be exceptional, but on closer
inspection they proved to be very good, but not so good as
I had hoped. Yet to kill two first-class heads in one day
in Newfoundland is a feat I had not previously achieved,
and the days when such an event happens are rare indeed.

After gralloching, we left the stag where it fell, recover-
ing the head some days afterwards, for Steve had his load
and the big head to take to camp, where we arrived in the
darkness. John had, however, made a roaring fire, and we
sat long, talking over the events of this eventful day.

Since the beginning of things, man has had three dominant
passions : to make love, to go to war, and to hunt wild beasts.
Whilst time is teaching us that the second of these is not
always an unmixed blessing nor an advantage, although we
must ever be prepared for it, the first and third will remain
with us until the crack of doom. There is a quiet satisfaction
in the soul of the hunter who successfully overcomes the
beasts of the chase, which not all the arguments of dilettanti
and cognoscenti can influence. The healthy life, the excite-
ment, and the freedom from care, once tasted, appeal with
ever-increasing force to men — I mean strong men, who have
seen all sides of life — for it contains the essentials of happy
existence, and man, whatever he may be, will always follow
the primal laws till the end of the chapter.

CHAPTER XVI

WANDERINGS ABOUT LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER

During the following week four or five companies of deer
with their attendant stags were seen daily, but the last week
of the month signalised the close of the rutting season, and
partial abandonment of the does by the stags. In some
cases two or three master -stags could be seen with the
herds, and these, though still looking at each other with
jealous eyes, did not come to actual blows. One day at
the north-eastern end of Keskitpegawi, my favourite hunting-
ground, I saw three companies within half a mile of one
another, and as I was watching a good thirty-pointer, he
suddenly left his does and walked off in the direction of
another troop. I followed quickly, hoping to see a grand
battle, but was disappointed. The travelling stag com-
menced feeding as soon as he reached the fresh deer, and
the master-stag, a very big fellow with fine double brows,
took very little notice of him, except to give a few savage
grunts of disapproval. After careful consideration, I decided
to shoot this stag if I could get within shot. It proved
to be a somewhat difficult stalk, as it was snowing hard
and the does were scattered about in every direction on a
perfectly open savannah. The wind, however, was blowing
strong, and one can take liberties under such circumstances.
Accordingly Steve and I crept in swiftly through the middle of
the scattered does, and relied on their temporary confusion to
effect a rapid advance. Whilst doing so, the Indian suddenly

296

LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 297

observed a fresh stag advancing from the north along the
lake shore, and accordingly we lay flat right in the midst
of the deer, which were by this time very uneasy. I could
not use the glass, but a temporary clearing gave us a glimpse
of the newcomer's head, which was large but not remarkable.
At this point we obtained some slight cover from a few
" tufts," so, running swiftly forward whilst the does bunched
together and stared at us, I got within 150 yards of the
master -stag, and laid him low with a bullet behind the
shoulder.

At the shot five more deer appeared on a knoll about
150 yards to the left, amongst which was a three-year-old
stag. This the Indians desired me to shoot, for the purpose
of making wading-boots to be used in descending the river.
Accordingly I lay down again, and was successful in striking
the deer through the heart, at which he ran about sixty
yards and then fell.

There were some big stumps of dry wood here, so we
all set to work at once, John skinning the three-year-old
stag, Steve taking off the head of the big stag, and I lighting
a fire and cooking dinner. The place was very exposed
and the snow falling thickly, so it was some time before
we finished our tasks. The young stag was in prime
condition, so we took a haunch and the breast as well as
his skin, and thus heavily laden returned to camp. In the
evening I admired the skill with which the Indians fashioned
their long boots. First of all the skin is cleaned, then Steve,
making his knife as sharp as a razor, shaved off all the hair.
The two pairs of boots were then cut into shape, and after-
wards sewn tightly with thread made from the sinews of
the deer's back. A seamed-over stitch is used, and very
tightly clinched. John Hinx was engaged meanwhile in

298 NEWFOUNDLAND

making a deep trough out of a log of "var." In this he
placed about an armful of "var" bark, carefully broken into
fine pieces with the fingers. Boiling water was then poured
into the trough, and the "boots" left to soak for twelve
hours. After this they were taken out, well scraped, and
put out to dry. They are then finished and perfectly soft,
strong, and watertight. It is curious that no skin but that
of three-year-old stag is ever used for this purpose. A large
stag's skin is too thick, and a doe's skin too weak.

" What beautiful socks those are of yours," I said to Steve.

"Yes," he answered, "but Indian women cannot make
socks like white women. I get as many pairs of socks as I
like for nothing from the Bay de Nord white women, every
time I pass that place — and dinners too."

" How is that?" I queried.

"Well," said Steve, "I saved a man's life last winter,
and I tell you story if you like."

To this I readily assented, and he began : —

" Last January it was very cold, and Micky John and
me were in the middle of the country, about forty miles
north of Bay de Nord, looking for some deer to sell to the
wood-camps near the salt water. Micky had gone out, and
I came back to tilt about midday, having killed a pisage
(young doe). Our tilt was in a little droke by the side of
a small brook, and as I go in, I see tracks of a bear or a
man on the other side of the brook going north. When
Micky came into camp about an hour later, I say to him,
' What for you cross the brook and go north, Micky ? ' For
I know there weren't no bears about at that time of year,
and I thought it queer that Micky should go across the
stream, as it was broad and difficult to cross. But Micky
say he had gone west, and those were not his tracks. So

Thirty-nine Pointer Shot near Lake Tamnapegawi,
October 1906

Side View ok the 'Same

LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 299

I was curious, as no Indians were about in our country, and
white men never come in so far, especially in the winter.
We crossed the brook, and I see at once that the track
was a white man's, as he wore boots, that he was running,
and that he warn't carrying no load, cos his footin' was
light on the snow. ' That feller's lost sure,' says I to
Micky, ' and we must find him before night or he'll be
dead.'

" I takes my tomahawk and some rum and meat and
we flies along the track, for the man was scared and going
fast. The footing goes in big circles, and now and again
we see where the feller had fell down and bite at the snow,
so he was about done and going mad.

"'Hurry up, Micky,' said I, 'or we'll be too late.' It
was cold enough for frost-bite even with two pairs of mits,
and when night came on, if a man fall and couldn't get up,
he'd very soon die. But Micky was kind o' scared and
say to me, ' What if he jump on us and try to kill us ; when
a man's mad with fear he do most anything.' But I show
him the handle of my tomahawk, and meant to stun the
feller if he try any tricks.

" The strength of that white man was considerable, for
Micky and I had to run like deer on our rackets to gain
ground, but by-and-by we see he was slowin' and fallin' oftener.
Presently I sees his head poking out from behind a bush,
so I shouts to him, and he rushes up to me and grabs me
round the legs. Micky wanted me to hit him, but I knew
he was only mad with joy. His name was Michael Fannell,
and he said he thought he was going home. So he was —
nearly.

" He was so done, with his boots and clothing all tore to
pieces, that Mick and I had to carry him on our backs five

300 NEWFOUNDLAND

miles to the tilt, but once there we rubbed him with rum,
dressed him in our spare clothes, and soon had him asleep
and comfortable.

" Three days afterwards we came with our man to a place
about twenty miles above the Bay de Nord Mill, and there
we meets a great company of men comin' to look for Michael
Fannell. When they sees us they sets up a shout and runs
to meet us, and the way those people carried on was somethin'
terrible. Next day we came into Bay de Nord, and the whole
people came out to meet us. Every bell in the place was
ringin', every one who had a gun fired it off, and every woman
in the place was cryin' and kissin' Michael Fannell.

" ' Micky,' says I to my partner, ' there's something wrong
about all this.'

" ' What way ? ' says he.

" 'Why,' says I, 'all those kisses ought to be for us, and
nar a one comin' our way.' It wasn't right some way — so
when a big feller says to me, ' What would you done if you'd
found him dead.-*' 'Oh,' I says, 'I'd a brought out a piece
of him any way — his head perhaps.' ^

" Then all the women yell and run away. But they was
kind anyhow, and told us that me and Micky would never
want a good dinner or a pair of socks as long as we were
coming to the Bay de Nord."

Foxes are fairly numerous about these hills, and every
evening and morning we could hear their " yapping " as
they called to each other. One carcase of a stag near the
camp was almost finished by foxes and eagles. The eagles

' An Indian is fond of saying something gruesome just to see what the effect
will be. These Newfoundland Micmacs do not like to be thought the savages many
of the fisher folk consider them to be. This story of the rescue of Michael Fannell
is known everywhere in Fortune Bay.

04
W
H
Z

LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 301

were here all day, but the more cunning quadrupeds only
sneaked to their meal in the shadows.

The red fox of Newfoundland can hardly be said to differ
from that of the adjoining continent, although American
naturalists like to regard it as a separate sub-species under
the name of Vulpes deletrix (Bangs). It is certainly smaller,
as we should expect an island form to be, but that its colour
is paler and less rusty I do not agree. I have compared
skins from Newfoundland with those of Canada, and can find
no difference in the size of the feet, which is supposed to be
the chief character of the V. deletrix. "The cross-fox," "the
patch fox," " the silver fox," " the mountaineer fox," and "the
black fox " are all melanic varieties of varying intensity of the
common red fox, Vu/pes /ii/vrts {Desmar est). A collection of
Newfoundland skins exhibits all degrees of colour from the
jet black fox with white end to its tail, which is by far the
rarest and most valuable phase, to the true red fox. Of course
the true type is the commonest ; then comes the " patch,"
which may be said to occur as one in every six specimens.
In every twenty there is a "cross" or a "mountaineer," and
in every hundred a good "silver." The Indians say they get
one genuine " black fox " in a lifetime. Noel Matthews
obtained 380 dollars for a good skin of this rare variety, and
this may be said to be the top price obtained by the trapper.

The habits of the Newfoundland foxes are very similar
to those of the mainland, so little need be said beyond noting
a few points of interest which I have not seen stated in
other natural histories. These island foxes are practically
omnivorous. They will eat any sort of fresh meat and carrion,
but do not as a rule attack the carcases of deer until the first
severe frosts set in. During the summer they live largely on
trout, which they catch with great skill, by watching the

302 NEWFOUNDLAND

shallows and darting in on the basking fish. Sometimes they
hunt in pairs and drive the fish to each other. In the autumn
they live on blueberries to a great extent, and will also eat
other fruits. The Indians have told me that they are the
deadly foe of the "weasel" (ermine), and that they kill and
eat these little mustelids whenever they come across them.
No Indian will touch the carcase of a caribou which a fo.x
has once visited, owing to the practice the animal has of
urinating upon whatever food he has found and wishes to
revisit. The urine of the fox is very pungent, and its evil
smell doubtless keeps off other predatory animals.

Foxes like to frequent high stony ground. Here they
always have one or more lairs to which they retire in rough
weather. In such places grouse are generally to be found,
and I have often noticed piles of fresh-water mussels on
exposed eminences, where they have doubtless been carried
and opened by foxes.

Foxes have a remarkable sense of hearing, the Indians
calling them from a distance of 200 yards simply by sucking
the back of the hand in imitation of a vole or distressed hare.
When the Indian desires to trap foxes in a new ground he
always repairs to the highest point, and, looking down on the
landscape, selects for his first traps the narrow spits of land
dividing two large lakes. Foxes always pass to and fro along
such natural bridges, and almost invariably to one side of the
numerous deer paths, as they do not like to walk in damp
places if they can help it.

My friend, Mr. John McGaw, witnessed an interesting
exhibition of the playfulness of this animal shortly after he
left me on my third journey. He was stalking two stags on
Serpentine Hills, near the Gander, when he noticed one of
the stags staring stupidly and backing away from some object

Steve Bernard and the Forty-five Pointer

LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 303

which kept leaping up from the ground at its side. On
approaching to within eighty yards of the deer, he saw that
the curious object was a young fox engaged in an attempt to
make the larger animal have a game with him. The fox
repeatedly sprang into the air, snapping at the deer's side,
and then, as these manoeuvres were resented by the stag
lowering its head to strike, it rushed round to the other side
to repeat the performance. The nimble game went on for
several minutes, Reynard apparently enjoying the fun of
chaffing his clumsy friend, who did not appear to appreciate
the joke in the slightest degree. Sometimes it bounded for-
ward as if to seize the stag's nose, and then as quickly sprang
backwards, standing just out of reach in the most provoking
manner. My readers will be glad to hear that this merry
little fellow retreated in safety.

Every day I went hunting either in Shoe Hill, Kesoquit,
Maelpeg, or along Keskitpegawi. Deer were in abundance,
generally in mixed companies or single stags that had finished
the rut. On 30th October I saw nine big stags and 1 1 5 does
and small deer, but nothing of importance. Except for two
small gales with rain, the weather was delightful, and I enjoyed
the experience of seeing an abundance of game and good heads
all in the open country where a man can use his glass without
hindrance. On 31st October the big migration set in from
the north, and I saw no fewer than fourteen big stags and
145 does. These all came from the forest to the east of
Sylvester, so I sent Steve to Kesoquit for more supplies, and
went north with John to meet the deer and build a fresh
camp. On 31st November a terrific gale with heavy rain
burst upon us from the east, and for three days we endured
considerable discomfort from the shifting winds. The water
sometimes poured in under our flimsy sheet, and a tent would

304 NEAVFOUNDLAND

have been most welcome, but as we had no such luxury we
had to make the best of a bad job, and built enormous fires,
which were often moved to suit the wind. The camp, too,
was a miserable one, much exposed, with the whole ground
covered with rocks, so that I was at last forced to strike camp
in a perfect deluge and make for Kesoquit. Indians, as I have
said before, simply loathe travelling in such weather, but in
this case they were quite cheerful, for a walk to Kesoquit
meant warmth, shelter, and the various good things which had
been "cached" there in the tilt.

As we marched through the rain and the mist on 4th
November, I saw a single doe passing below us up the main
valley. Her ghost-like form was soon followed by another
and yet another, so we halted for a moment to see if anything
better was to follow. Yes, here he comes, a noble fellow with
long antlers. We watched him as he threaded his way through
a small marsh about 200 yards to our left. We were about to
rise and resume our journey when Steve sprang to his feet
with the usual exclamation, " Haskajit " (a very big one), and
peering through the mist I saw such a vision of horns as I
knew could only belong to one of these mighty ones of the
earth. It took us not a moment to run down the hill and
strike in on a line where the two stags were passing, but — as
bad luck would have it — the long-horned fellow came directly
towards us and forced an immediate subsidence to the ground
on our part. Here we lay as he walked by with mincing
steps, whilst the big one whose horns looked enormous in the
haze, walked quickly across the marsh at about 150 yards.
There was no chance but to take the shot offered, so I
aligned the sights as carefully as possible and fired. The
bullet went over his back, and he at once dashed off at full
speed. There was now only a faint blur to aim at, but by

u
o

o
O

E^
O

-i

«5
I-

;^,

C/3

'.1^

LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER 305

the greatest of luck I hit the deer right through the heart
with my second shot.

"Very good," said Steve, "you kill him," although I was
unaware that my shot had taken effect. We ran forward,
and for a time could see nothing of our quarry, though Steve
was positive I had hit him, until, going forward, we saw the
antlers of the dying stag swaying to and fro on the top of
a knoll. He was a noble thirty-five pointer, with large horns,
only spoilt by the usual hook brow on the right antler.

This closed my hunting for the year, and perhaps for ever
in Newfoundland. I had killed six splendid heads, four of
which were of exceptional beauty, and my collection of caribou
heads was now complete. This season had surpassed all my
previous expeditions, both in the way of success, and in the
enjoyment of finding and stalking deer in an open country
where no white man had ever hunted before. Others will
doubtless come after me, and for them I can only wish the
good luck that attended me ; but I trust that they will employ
the Indians who accompanied me, and whose lawful hunting-
grounds lie within this area of the country.

On 6th November we met Matty Burke and Johnny

Benoit, and all packed up and carried the outfit and heads

to the canoes on Browse's Lake. From this point to John

Hinx's tilt the stream was fairly easy, but for the next four

days the Indians had to display all their skill in preventing

the canoes from upsetting in the boiling torrent of the Long

Harbor River. Several times they packed everything for a

mile or two, but negotiated most of the worst rapids by

"lining" down them, whilst one man kept the nose of the

canoe straight with a long spruce pole. On loth November

we reached Ryan's, and the end of our canoe journey.

I will not trouble the reader with the difficulties I

306 NEWFOUNDLAND

experienced in getting to St. John's at this late season of the
year, beyond briefly stating that after packing my heads in
Belleoram I had again to recross Fortune Bay in Mr. Ryan's
boat. Having missed the weekly steamer, there was nothing
for it but to boat and walk across the country. After a
heavy gale, we had to run for shelter into Anderson's Cove,
but next day made Bay dArgent. Here I said good-bye to
my genial Irish friend, and taking the two Indians, marched
for eighteen miles across the Peninsula to Bain Harbour in
Placentia Bay. None of the inhabitants would or could
convey me across the bay, as the weather was vile, but after
beating about half the night I induced an old ruffian and his
two sons to essay the passage in his lumber schooner for
twenty dollars. The night was awful, blowing smoke from
the south-east, and half-a-dozen times the skipper wanted to
turn back, but by various inducements I got him to hold on
till daylight. The seas washed over us, the cabin was so
filthy, and smelt so abominably of bilge water and rotten
fish, that it made me ill, and it was with great joy I hailed the
welcome harbour of Placentia on the following evening after
seventeen hours' misery. Here I caught the train, and next
day the steamer for England.

The attendant discomforts of travel in out-of-the-way
places are things to be taken philosophically by the hunter,
and, in looking back on my days in Newfoundland, they
seem few and easily forgotten, whilst the happy ones are
numerous and deeply fixed in my mind.

How strange is England's ignorance of her colonies, and
of none so great as that relating to Newfoundland. Those
that give her a passing thought consider her people a mixture
between French Canadians and Red Indians, who live in a
climate that is a hybrid between the North Pole and a

Rough Water on the Long Harbor River

LAKE MAELPEG AND INIOUNT SYLVESTER 307

London fog. Instead of that, the traveller who goes to seek
will find a happy people of the good old English stock, men
to whom the Flag of England and respect for the King are
no mere idle terms, but are a living ideal, which the lapse
of centuries has not palled. There, too, you will find none
of the pushful arrogance that often comes with new-found
strength. Newfoundland has had some hard knocks from the
ignorance of Downing Street, and her Governors, who are
in the best position to know, have often been treated with
scant respect ; but withal, she does not fling herself into
hysterics and talk of independence, but quietly awaits the day
when England shall be governed by men who do not " only
England know," but have the interests of the whole Empire
at heart. I do not know much about politics, but I have
travelled much in British colonies, yet it seems to me that
until we have members of Parliament whose minds circulate
a little farther than the village pump and their own small
interests, we shall never know our own people or appreciate
their ambitions.

One really clever man, Mr. Chamberlain, does not belong
to that school. Whether his views about tariff reform and
colonial preference are sound I will not discuss, but, right or
wrong, he is a great man because he has done all that one
man could do to lay bare our national self-sufficiency and the
folly of neglecting "the cry of the children" when they call.

Then, too, Newfoundland is not a land of fog and ice-
bergs. It has a fairly severe winter, but its late summer and
autumn are certainly finer than Scotland.

" Over there is a sense of freedom we know not here.
There is the great sun, the wide horizon, the dancing rivers,
and the woods of ever-changing beauty. There is the blazing
noon, with its manifold sights and moods of Nature — the

308 NEWFOUNDLAND

white-headed eagle, and the osprey lost in cloud of spray ;
the American goshawk chasing the belted kingfisher; the
rattle of the great woodpecker ; the ' plop ' of the beaver ;
the splash of the leaping fish, and a hundred more. There
is the evening of changing lights, when from the darkening
forest steps the great white-necked stag. There, too, those
exquisite nights of twinkling starlight, when you lie and toast
your toes at the blazing logs whilst the men spin yarns, and
the horned owl shrieks. It is the Spirit of the Wilderness
that calls, and the man who has not known has not lived."

CHAPTER XVII

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU

First of all I must warn my readers that this chapter is
intended solely for the hunter and the naturalist, and that
the general reader will peruse it at his own peril.

The name "caribou" is a native Indian word derived
from the words " maccarib " or "maccaribo," and not from
the French Canadian quarr^ bceuf (that is, a square ox), an
origin assigned to it by Sir John Richardson, who wrote the
first clear account of the American races of this deer.
Lescarbot, in his Nouvelle France (1609), first mentions the
caribou, whilst its existence seems to have been unknown to
the earlier travellers, such as Cabot, Cartier, and Roberval.

Space will not permit me to enter into a discussion of the
various local races of the reindeer or caribou found in
Europe, Asia, and America, nor to argue on the vexed
question whether the whole race should be regarded as one
species, or a number of sub-species, of which the Norwegian
reindeer is the parent form. Without doubt both views of
the case are correct in their own way, whether zoologists
belong to the camp of the "splitters" or the "lumpers";
but what I do consider a very great mistake is the separation
by American and English naturalists of the two great races
known respectively as the "Woodland" and "the Barren-
land," and the assignation to each of different habits, a state
of things which has led to the formation of sub-species such
as T. R. Stonei and T. R. Osborni, local races assigned to

309

310 NEWFOUNDLAND

the Woodland group, yet possessing habits practically identical
with true T. rangifer of Norway, and T. R. arcticus of the
Barren-lands. This is nothing more or less than confusion
worse confounded, and based on an ignorance of the habits
and movements of the various (so-called) sub-species. A
close study of the wild races of Europe, Asia, and America
has convinced me that nearly all reindeer spend a certain
number of months every year in the timber (when they can
find such shelter), and a certain time in the open grounds.
In parts of Arctic America the Mackenzie herds, and in
Finmark the Northern European herds, live for nearly six
months in forests, only repairing to the open tundra or
mountain wastes in autumn and winter, and again returning
to the forest belts in spring. The same may be said of most
of the other local races, whether so-called Barren-ground or
Woodland.

In this work I have endeavoured to show, although it does
not seem to be known to naturalists, that the Newfoundland
caribou, which have always been known as a typical Woodland
race, does precisely the same thing, and leaves the timber
in October, returning to it again in the following April. Of
course I do not mean to dogmatise and say that all the
Newfoundland caribou thus travel, for during these great
migrations there are large numbers which do not leave the
woods at all, but are more or less stationary, whilst the main
body passes through their midst. It is a curious fact in
animal life, but no more strange than the habits of thrushes
and blackbirds which remain in our gardens at all seasons,
even in the autumn, while vast numbers of the same species
are passing overhead for southern climes.

No doubt the reason of these movements of reindeer to
open ground is that which prompts the inspiration of migration

FORTV-EIGHT POINT HEAD IN THE POSSESSION OF SlR R. G. REID

Forty-nine Point Horns picked up on the Gander, 1906, bv Hesketh Prichard

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 311

amongst all mammals and birds, namely, the absence of a
proper food supply for great numbers. When the winter sets
in the frost is more intense in forests, and the snow deeper.
This causes a " trek " to some area where the wind blows the
snow from the exposed ridges, and renders the moss easier
to obtain. For converse reasons and the laws of greater
protection, the deer return to the woods in spring. I think,
therefore, that when the general habits of the American
caribou are better known, and their migrations and horn
growths, &c., better understood, we shall do away with
several of these hastily constructed species, as well as the
erroneous titles of Woodland and Barren-ground, which are
quite inapplicable.

The Newfoundland caribou [Tarandus rangifer or Tar-
andtis rangifer terrce-novee , Bangs, whichever the reader
may prefer to call it) stands about 48 inches at the shoulder
(I have measured one 52 inches), 6 feet 8 inches in length,
and weighs from 300 to 400 lbs. By the end of September
most of the males have white necks and beards, but I have
seen a few that were grey all over the neck. The ears and
throat mane are always white, but the face and cheeks are
generally grizzled, and are seldom, even in the darkest
examples, as black as those of Eastern Canada. Sometimes
a dark line of hair runs down the back of the neck, and
there is always a black or dark brown bunch of hair on the
upper surface of the tail. The upper parts of the body are
dark or pale brown, but in this respect they are very
variable, being almost pure white over the whole of the
body in the light variety of this race. These white examples
are found in nearly all local races of reindeer. The various
names of the different ages of both sexes are thus recognised
by the Newfoundland Micmacs : —

312 NEWFOUNDLAND

Very big stag, with a Roman nose = Wach-tu-ivich-hu-
nema ; very big stag = Haskagit ; very dark stag, with brown
on the legs = Wis-o-blich ; big white stag = Wap-tu-quit ;
black stag = Mach-tad-u-git ; stag = stecks ; stag with a
wide head = Pus-um-wat ; very old stag (sees nothing, has
no teeth) = Vis-o-blich ; almost full grown stag = Bis-tim-
wat ; good-sized stag {i.e. staggie) = Glon-an-nais ; pricket
= Frusanch ; deer = Haliboo ; barren doe = Sigum-tis ; doe,
with c^iSi = no-stitk, Hal-a-gii-duk ; young diO^ =■ Pis-age ;
calf = Tg-e-adu ; small fawn = Ne-gudu, Punetquhin ; fourteen
months' old calf = susanck.

In 1906 I made the interesting discovery, which is, I think,
new to zoologists, namely, that the caribou stag sometimes
possesses a sac containing hair in the throat skin. On
October 20th I killed a very large stag near Shoe Hill, and
whilst removing the neck skin my knife slipped and dis-
closed a very curious sac about five inches long and two
broad ; this contained growing hair on the inner skin, and
the cavity was full of a mass of compressed hair soaking
in a watery mucus. This skin bag was situated in a thin
vellum of the inner skin in the region of the upper throat.
The Indians call this little bag " Piduateh," and the few-
white men who know of its existence the " Toler " {i.e.
crier or bell), so that it may have some close affinity to
the long throat appendage found on the moose and known
as the "bell." In the case of the caribou, the hair sac is
internal with hair growing inwards, whilst in the moose the
ornament is a long piece of hardened skin covered with hair,
which hanors from the centre of the throat. The Indians
told me that this sac is only found in one in fifty caribou,
generally in the males, and that it is sometimes found in the
inside skin of the cheek. The existence of this curious

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 313

attachment has not been previously noticed. It seems to be
useless, and can possess none of the functions of a gland.

The horns of the old stags are dropped between the
30th of October and the 20th November. Often the males
cast their horns according to their years, the eldest first, and
the youngest last. Many five-year-old stags keep them on
until Christmas, but it is extremely rare to see a stag with
good horns after the ist of December. Unlike the red deer
and wapiti, the new horns do not begin to grow at once,
the tops of the pedicles being bare for some time before
the new growth starts. In fact, Newfoundland stags only
show an excrescence of a few inches in March ; after this
the horns develop rapidly. The horns of the males are
hard to the tips on the ist of September, and are rubbed
clean between the 7th and the 12th of that month. At first
they are pure white, but change in a few days to a beauti-
ful chestnut colour. In Newfoundland it is said that this
colour is obtained by the deer threshing its antlers against
the alder bushes, which exude a reddish brown sap, a view
which cannot be substantiated, because 80 per cent, of the
stags rub clean on dwarf spruce and larch trees, ^ in whose
neighbourhood there are no alders. But where alders are
found they are very fond of swinging the antlers from side
to side amongst them to clear whatever shreds of velvet
may remain. As the horns dry, the stags repair at midday
to high sandy " knaps" in the vicinity of their summer resorts
and lie in the sun. The Indians say that they always go
soon after to some stream, and there, gazing into Nature's
looking-glass, see whether their ornaments are of the correct
colour. If this view prove unsatisfactory they go to give them

' Some colour is doubtless derived by rubbing on the bark of trees, since it is easy
to stain bleached antlers by dipping them in the boiling bark of var or spruce.

314 NEWFOUNDLAND

a further polish on the alders, and obtain the desired effect.
This pretty superstition is not an Indian one, and may be
found in many old books on hunting in England and the
Continent, and the tale must have been received by the red
men from the early English colonists.

The caribou does a great part of his horn-cleaning with
the hoofs of his hind feet. In fact all deer with which I am
acquainted use the hoof largely in freeing the horns of the
velvet that clings to the coronets and other parts which are
difficult to rub on trees. I have seen both wild and tame
reindeer thus engaged, and the foot often get so involved
in the antlers that you wonder how it will again become
free. But they have a delicate sense of touch, and the most
minute particles of velvet are thus removed, whilst there is
no instance on record of the reindeer stag having entangled
itself in its own horns.

As in the case of other deer, the best horns are carried
by stags of from six to twelve years of age. The average
horns do not bear more than twenty points, and have one
fair brow shovel, and a hook for the corresponding orna-
ment on the other horn. A good many have twenty-five
points, whilst a good head generally has thirty points and
over. Points are not all sufficient, but nearly every first-
class head I have seen has borne thirty-five points or more.
The ambition of every hunter in Newfoundland is to kill
a forty-pointer, and a few achieve this distinction. I think
that any hunter of experience who goes far enough afield
and works hard in the second season ought to see eighty
adult stags, and one amongst them will be a forty-pointer
or even more.

Horns bearing more than forty-two points are extremely
rare, yet every year one or two are killed. I have seen

i>^lt //t

Skull and Horns of Female Caribou

I, 2, Usual Types. 3, Hornless Female with Pedicles still present. 4
Types from Specimens shot by the Author. 5, Twenty-pointer
Matty Burke near the Tolt.

6, Fine
shot by

fortv-eight pointer shot near the bungalow,
Grand Lake, 1906

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 315

three carrying forty-eight points, and one of my own and
a pair of dropped horns in the possession of Mr. H. Prichard
have forty-nine, but I have never yet seen a Newfoundland
fifty-pointer, although I am quite convinced that three or
four heads with this large number of points have been killed
within recent years. In 1905 and 1906 I picked up three
horns on which are twenty-five, twenty-six, and twenty-six
points respectively. Any of these may have belonged to a
fifty-pointer, but as in no case did I find the corresponding
antler, the case must remain in doubt. The following notes
of big heads I have collected at various times, though it
must be remembered that nearly every Indian and white
man exaggerates both the size of the head as well as the
number of points, so the reader can accept the evidence
or reject it as hearsay as he pleases.

Micky John, an Indian, told me in 1906 that he knew
of a pair of dropped antlers near the Gander which had
fifty-three points ; he had seen and counted them twice.
In 1904 Nicholas Jeddore shot a fifty-point head, and sold
it to a Mr. Taylor, a surveyor in St. John's. Joe Bernard,
late chief of the Micmacs, and Peter John had each seen
one fifty-pointer during their lives.

Very few Newfoundland horns exceed 39 inches in length.
The general character is rather short and thick, with more
massive brows and bays — that is middle palms — than those
of other local races. If they have a manifest weakness it
is in the " tops," which are often poor and thin, and a
head which carries good double brows, bays, and tops is
indeed a great rarity.

I have killed several over 40 inches in length, and in 1905
one of 46 inches, and this was the longest I had noticed
in any public or private collection until the autumn of

316 NEWFOUNDLAND

1906/ when I saw a wonderful head in the possession of the
Hon. J. D. Ryan, of St. John's. By some oversight I had
not my steel tape with me, but should say that it is at least
51 inches long and 45 inches span between the tops. The
brows and bays were poor, and it is not a remarkable head
in other respects, but it is probably the longest and widest
Newfoundland head in existence. The deer which carried
these horns was killed by Matty Burke, a half-breed Indian,
near the Tolt in October 1904. So far as I can ascertain
the three Newfoundland heads best for all round qualities
are as follows : The forty-five pointer killed by myself near
Mount Sylvester in October 1906, and the forty-eight pointer
shot by a railway man near Spruce Brook in 1905, and now
in the possession of Sir R. G. Reid, at Montreal. Mr.
Selous, who is a caribou expert, and has seen both examples,
says there is little to choose between them. Sir R. G. Reid's
head has better brow points than my forty-five pointer, but,
in other respects, my specimen is the finer. The third
example is a forty-eight pointer with magnificent bays. It
was killed on the hills near Grand Lake by an American
sportsman hunting from the " Bungalow" in 1906. I give an
illustration of this head from a photograph sent to me by Mr.
Whitaker. It is curious that General Dashwood, who had
so much experience in Newfoundland, never killed a remark-
able head ; but such is the case, for I have seen all the
heads collected by him, and, though he possessed many fine
examples up to thirty-nine points, there is not one which
might be called extraordinary. In St. John's, too, we should
expect to find some remarkable specimens, but, beyond the

' In this year I obtained a head of 46^ inches. Rowland Ward in his horn
measurements gives two Newfoundland heads of over 46 inches, but I do not
think that they are correctly measured, as I have seen both of them.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 317

head belonging to Mr. Ryan, a very large example possessed
by the Hon. John Harvey, and a good forty-seven pointer
in the possession of the Raid Newfoundland Company, I
have not seen anything exceptional. This absence of fine
deer-heads in the capital of the island can be accounted for
by the fact that the great fire destroyed most of the best
trophies, whilst travelling Americans give large prices for
any head of remarkable beauty. My friend, Mr. Hesketh
Prichard, picked up on the Gander in 1906 a very fine pair
of horns with forty-nine points. These are very short, but
possess magnificent brows.

Horns in which the bays are placed low down and close
to the brows, as in Norwegian reindeer, are very rare,
and I have only seen two examples, whilst equally scarce
are horns which carry supernumerary points in the centre
of the beam between the bays and the tops, of which I give
two figures. Dwarf, or what we may term withered, heads
are also somewhat unusual, and are usually carried by very
large stags. Hornless stags, too, are not so rare as they
are supposed to be.

For the purpose of comparison with other local races
of reindeer, I give the measurements of the twelve best
specimens of Newfoundland caribou which I have obtained
in the island. In all scientific accounts dealing with the
measurements of reindeer horns, no notice is taken of the
size of the large brow shovel, a matter of great importance
in determining the respective merits of individual heads.
Mere length of horn is not everything in judging the
qualifications of deer-heads, whilst in this species in par-
ticular we must consider beam, span, number of points,^

' The points of reindeer are difficult to count. No point should be included
that does not fulfil the old watch-guard or powder-horn test, unless it may be a clean

318

NEWFOUNDLAND

symmetry, weight, and size of the large brow, a feature which
adds so much to the general character.

Breadth of

Length

on Outer

Curve.

Circum-

Large Brow

ference
above

on Anterior
Margin from

Widest
Inside.

Points.

Locality.

Bay.

Base to Top

Front Point.

46i

Tamnapegawi Lake, 1906.

Upper Gander, 190;.

1 61

Shoe Hill Ridge, 1906.

l6|

Upper Gander, 1903.

Kesoquit Hills, 1906.

15*

Upper Gander, 1905 (picked up).

I si

Upper Gander, 1905.

Upper Gander, 1903.

Millais's Lake, 1902.

37*

>7i

Migwell's Brook, 1905.

1 61

Upper Gander, near Little Gull, 1903.

13J

Kesoquit Hills, 1906.

Adult females measure from 36 to 40 inches at the
shoulder, and weigh from 200 to 300 lbs. The hair of the
head is dark brown, with white or grizzled crown and white
nose, ears white, and neck grey, with a short white or grey
beard extending from the throat to the chest. Upper parts
dark brown with a row of very large spots or blotches of
very pale brown on the flank. The legs, too, have more
brown and black than the males. Black hairs are found
on the upper part of the tail, whilst the rump, inner parts
of the thighs, and under parts are white.

The horns of the females, when they possess them, are
dropped as late as the end of April, and are, in consequence,
later in development than those of the males. It is unusual

blunt snag at least half an inch from the main horn. The Germans count every-
thing as a point upon which a torn piece of paper will rest, but we regard as
"offers" all small excrescences that do not fulfil the old British conditions. For
instance. Captain Cartvvright's famous "seventy-two point" Labrador head, which
I have recently traced, and on which he counted every offer, has in reality fifty-
three points.

Lichen Eaten ky Caribou

Maldow or Bearded Moss, a Favourite Winter Food
OF Caribou

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 319

to see their horns clean until ist October. The usual type
of horn is a long thin snag of some 15 to 20 inches, with
a short, straight brow of i to 2 inches. Some, however,
have six or seven points and a few ten to twelve points.
A greater number of points than twelve is rare, the largest
number I have myself seen on live deer being heads of twelve,
thirteen, and fifteen points. The best head I know of is
that of a female shot by Matty Burke near the Tolt in 1904.
It bears twenty points, and is now in the possession of Mr.
Philip Ryan at Long Harbor. Joe Jeddore told me that
his brother Nicholas killed a female caribou in 1905 whose
horns carried twenty-eight small points. He was to have
sent the head to me, but the skull was eaten by dogs.

Quite 8 per cent, of the female Newfoundland caribou
carry no external horns, ^ and yet I have never seen the
skull of a hornless female that did not possess small pedicles.
This is a somewhat interesting point, as it shows that there
is a tendency amongst the females of that island race to
lose their horns. It is remarkable, too, because all Nor-
wegian female reindeer possess horns of some kind, and the
Esquimaux of Labrador say they never see hornless females.
Of the Eastern Canadian race, breeding females about Abitibi
are frequently hornless, but Mr. Selous tells me that those of
the Yukon in Northern British Columbia are all horned.

Calves are born in the woods in May, and have no
natural enemies except the lynx, which kills a few m the
early days of their existence. The mothers are very affec-
tionate and suckle the young until September, when they
are weaned. It is not unusual, however, to see a calf sucking

' My calculations are based on some notes I took of female caribou seen in
open country, when I could easily examine them with the glass, in 1906. Out of
300 females, 1 had eleven points ; i, ten ; 3, eight; 25, six or seven; 246, four or
more points ; and 24 had no horns.

320 NEWFOUNDLAND

the mother as long as she can give milk. At two years of
age they will receive the stag. Without doubt they bear
calves very regularly for more than twenty years, as the red-
deer hinds do, and the percentage of barren does is very
small. Instances of twins are rare, as are also pure white
varieties. I saw a nearly white doe on the Gander in 1905,
and in the spring of 1904 Steve Bernard shot a young doe,
near Long Harbor, that was pure white all over, with pink
and white hoofs.

The Indians say that in extreme old age the stags
become both blind and deaf, and that they occasionally
come across these old patriarchs whose horns are reduced
to thin spires with a hardly perceptible brow. On this
point they have an interesting superstition which is fully
believed in. They say that when stags become very old
they go down to the salt water and disappear in the sea,
where they at once turn into large whales (Pudup) or into
small whales (Halibuge or Muspage). The origin of this,
I find, comes from the home of the Micmacs, Sydney, Cape
Breton, where one day a hunter followed three moose along
the shore for some distance, and then found the tracks
entered the sea. Immediately afterwards he saw three large
whales spouting off shore, and his simple mind connected the
two facts. I explained the possibilities of the circumstance,
but the Indians held firmly to their views, instancing that,
conversely, stags often came out of the sea on to the land
again. John Hinx gave several examples of this, and stated
that his grandfather, Joe Paul, had once shot three stags
near Conn River, whose stomach was "full of shrimps."
The other Indians at once confirmed these tales. After
this it was useless to argue.

The principal food of the caribou at all seasons is the

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 321

common reindeer moss {Cladonia rangiferma), of which
there seems to be a large and a small variety. They also
eat two other lichens, Stereocaulon paschale, and Bryopogon
jubatum. The long-bearded tree moss, known to the New-
foundlander as "maldow," is a favourite food in winter.
In the autumn the adults also eat blueberries,* the withered
leaves of alder and birch, whilst the females and young are
very partial to the small shoots of larch, on which I have
seen them feeding exclusively. The females chew the points
of every old horn they come across. With such a wonderful
feast spread by Nature, the caribou would suffer no hardship
at any season were it not for the sudden frosts following on
thaws — at such times the winter rain freezes as it falls, and
encrusts the ground and trees with a hard mass of ice,
through which the deer are unable to break.

These ice storms are known in Newfoundland as the
" Glitter," and are the cause of all the sudden local movements
on the part of the deer during winter. The most remarkable
instance occurred in the first week in December 1898 — one
of the severest winters ever e.xperienced in the island. Tens
of thousands of caribou were collected in the neighbourhood
of the woods and open country just south of Sylvester, and
extending to the Tolt in the east and the Long Harbor
River as the western boundary. A glitter came on suddenly,
and the whole of these deer moved in a single night to the
west at full speed. Several of the Indians saw the trails
made by the mass of deer, and described them to me as at
least ten miles wide, with few intervals in between. Only
one man saw the great trek. His name is Joe Rigg, and

> The stomach of a stag I killed in 1906 was half-full of blueberries. These
it must have swallowed as the berries lay on the ground amongst the C. rangiferina.
I do not think that they eat the berries off the bushes.

322 NEWFOUNDLAND

he is the game- warden of Long Harbor country. I had
the good fortune to meet him in 1906. Joe had gone in to
shoot a couple of deer about ten miles north of Mr. Ryan's
house, and described the night as the most wonderful he
had ever seen. As far as the eye could reach there were
" millions and millions of caribou," and he stood in astonish-
ment the whole day as the pageant rolled by. Putting
aside Rigg's pardonable exaggeration, the deer seen by him
must have constituted a half of the stock in the whole
island, perhaps a hundred thousand, and the sight must have
been a remarkable one. These deer moved west without
a stop till they came to Conn River, where dozens were
killed in the streets of the village. From thence they held
on, and dispersed themselves from this point westward as
far as Burgeo for the rest of the winter.

When reindeer are caught in isolated positions, such as
small islands and ranges of mountains, by one of these
sudden frosts following a thaw, and there is no chance of
escaping to less exposed places, the whole stock die of
starvation. Such a calamity occurred on the Upper Laerdal
mountains in 1892, and on several islands in the north of
Hudson's Bay some years ago, and I could name other
instances.

Purely local movements, brought on by sudden meteoro-
logical conditions, must not be confounded with the annual
migrations which take place in nearly all parts of the island
at two distinct seasons, and which I shall now endeavour
to describe.

Caribou, like other species of deer which occur in large
numbers, are in the habit of changing their habitats. In the
case of moose these changes of range are generally gradual,
extending over a period of several years, whilst the reindeer

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 323

may suddenly desert a district in which they have lived for
years for no apparent reason.^

Twenty years ago the main winter abode of the Newfound-
land caribou stretched from Bay Despair to La Poile, whilst
a certain number, nearly all small deer, spent this season until
the spring in the high country, just below the forest belt,
stretching from Terra-Nova and Cloete Sound to St. John's
Lake. It is strange that few came south of this into the
great open country between the Tolt and the Bay de Nord
River, but Indians have told me that at this time it was the
rarest thing to see more than a few odd deer in this area
north of Fortune Bay, which is now their principal home at
this season. To-day a certain number of deer never migrate
at all, and live in the woods of the interior and the penin-
sulas, which are their summer home. There are always
some to be found at all seasons in the Northern Peninsula,
and many other isolated tongues of land, such as are found
south of St. John's and Placentia ; and on the east coast
many too remain throughout the year in the forests about
Red Indian Lake, Victoria Lake, St. George's Lake, the
Gander, the La Poile, Round Lake, and the Western Maelpeg
— in fact, over the whole island.

The building of the railway, which cuts the island in two
in the north centre, proved what had already been known
for years, that a vast body of deer commenced its migration
from the Northern Peninsula early in September. In cold
seasons this movement commenced early in the month with
the advent of does and calves with a few young stags.
These crossed the track at various points between the Gaff

^ A good instance of this has occurred recently in East and North-Eastern
Ontario. Previous to the year 1897, all the country from Mattawa to Abatibi was
caribou ground. About that year the caribou began to desert it for Northern
Quebec, and in their place entered moose in great numbers.

324 NEWFOUNDLAND

Topsails and Bay of Islands, the main body pursuing lines
across the White Hill plains, Howley, Goose Brook, and
Patrick's Marsh. In mid-September came more does and
half-grown stags, and at the end of the month the breeding
deer, consisting of adult does and stags. Throughout October
more and more stags, influenced according to the weather,
continued to pass southwards, and in the first week in
November the last of the big deer and the "main jamb"
of small deer brought up the rearguard — the migration being
over about the 20th of that month. Of the subsequent
movements of the animals but little was known, except that
during the late winter great numbers made their appearance
between White Bear River and La Poile, on the south-west
coast, and were killed by the men of this district.

During the first few years of the railway every man who
had a rifle or gun repaired in the autumn to various crossing-
places of the deer, and in a couple of days killed all he desired.
At first good heads were not considered, but soon it became
known to the fishermen that a fine stag's horns were worth
money, so the slaughter of the adult stags became as much
a matter of importance as a saleable article as a fat doe
meant to themselves. Without any restrictions the slaughter
of stags commenced, and it was not unusual for one man who
was a good shot and knew the trails to kill as many as twenty
heads in a fortnight. This went on for several years, until
the slaughter became so reckless ^ that the Government took
notice of it, and enforced a law by which only five deer

' A man armed with a Winchester rifle seated in the railway line near Howley, in
October 1897, killed the leading doe of a herd of twenty-eight deer. As she fell
the others were thrown into helpless confusion, and stood about offering easy targets.
The ruffian then killed the whole herd, of which only one carcase was removed.
This dastardly act was reported in St. John's, and was the chief cause of the
Game Act.

The End of the Season — Quite Good Friends Again, but very Thin

- - '/?-J9»rV

, *. £

'A^^j^if^

,^i\y-'i

Fox Playing with a Stag

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 325

might be killed by a single hunter. As the adult stags con-
tinued to decrease, this was further reduced to three, at which
it now remains. But during these years the stags, and no
doubt many of the does, had been learning a lesson by which
they hav'e now profited. Instead of crossing the line on their
northern migration in spring, the majority go no farther than
the chain of impenetrable forest which stretches from Glen-
wood to Round Pond, and again at intervals from Pipestone
to the headwaters of the La Poile. In this area quite two-
thirds of the caribou live in peace and security, and are
scarcely molested at all until they move south to the open
country, north of Fortune and Hermitage Bays, in the winter.
Consequently the adult stags are now hardly touched, because
the winter shooters invariably choose fat does in preference
to lean stags.

A great number of deer, nearly all does and young animals
with a few mature stags, still traverse the line at their old
crossing-places, and the great open country north of Grand
Lake, and on as far as George IV. Lake, and come south as
they always did, but during the past few years very few good
heads have fallen to the guns of the "pot-hunters," who
bewail the absence of the crowned monarchs, and think that
they have gone for ever. At the present day there are pro-
bably more adult stags in Newfoundland than ever there were,
but they take better care of themselves ; this is the opinion of
the Indians, and I believe the correct one, and as long as the
great central sanctuary is not invaded in summer, when the
females are bringing forth their young, and no other railway
is built to pierce their autumn trails to the south of the forest
belt, Newfoundland will always keep her deer, one of her
most valuable assets.

From the central forests the migration commences early in

326 NEWFOUNDLAND

September by the does coming out to the open places. About
the 1 5th of this month the first stags also begin to show up,
at first timidly and then with greater confidence. The sign
of the approaching rut is seen by their peculiar behaviour.
The stag stands looking about in strange fashion. He ceases
to feed except to suck up mud and water, and in the evening
and early morning is seen rushing in and out of the forest
in silent passion. As yet he does not grunt, but when he
stops will stand and gaze for long periods at some object that
may develop into a possible mistress. If the does have gone
on, for at this season they make curious little migrations in
any direction, he "noses" along, following on their tracks,
and stopping now and again to lick and snuff up their de-
licious scent. Soon he finds the object of his desire, and
captures one or two wives, with whom he may stop for a short
period in the little open marshes that adjoin his forest home.
I am no believer in the fidelity of the caribou or of the moose.
He rapidly tires of his wives or they of him, and though he
may even "trek" south for a short distance with the first
females he has picked up, he soon leaves them and looks for
fresh charmers. When in full "rut," which we may place at
nth October, he will, if a big and strong beast, gather as
many as fifteen or eighteen does into his harem, but this is
unusual, ten or twelve being the usual limit. At this season
one constantly sees wandering troubadours, full of noise and
passion, rushing madly along the hillside and simply "spoiling"
for a fight. These are large adult stags, which are much
"run," and have just left their harem and are looking for
fresh conquests. If they meet another like themselves or
a master -stag with does, a fight is certain to ensue. No
deer fights oftener or with greater savagery than the reindeer,
and they are often drowned in the bogs in their reckless

Interlocked Antlers picked up by T. P. Miller near Millais's Lake,

September 1905

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 327

passion. Hardly an adult stag is free from traces of combat
at the end of October. It is common to see them scarcely
able to crawl from the blows they have received, and with
horns knocked to pieces. In 1904 Joe Jeddore walked up
to two large stags that were fighting and put a charge of
buckshot into one of them at a distance of fifteen paces. The
stag thinking his opponent had inflicted the blow, made one
mighty rush at him and fell dead. The other deer then ran
forward and pounded the carcase of the fallen one, when the
Indian fired his other barrel and killed the second stag on
the top of the first. Even young stags fight most savagely.
I watched two on the hills one day in 1906 going at each
other for over an hour, until in fact they were both so
exhausted that their blows had no power and they could
only reel about.

At this season the smell of the stag is very pungent.
The mucus of the nostrils is so impregnated with a musky
odour that if any of it gets on your fingers it is most
difficult to remove. The flesh is so charged with the taint
that adult stags are uneatable from 3rd October to 20th
November.

Caribou do not make "wallows" like other species of
deer. In late September the stags often stand on little
mounds and scrape away shallow pits with their feet, gene-
rally in spots where some doe has been and left traces of
her presence. This habit is very similar to that of the
bull moose, but I have never seen the pits so deep as those
made by the larger deer.

On the 25th of October the rutting season may be said
to be at an end, and the main migration begins. The first
sign of the general movement is the joining of parties and
the presence of one or two old stags moving together. They

328 NEWFOUNDLAND

still eye one another, and one stag will not permit another
to approach too closely. They also commence to feed again
and to travel. If cold weather in the shape of a heavy
snowstorm with the wind in the north-east sets in, the whole
stock of deer in the island may be set in motion on a
single day. The reader must not, however, imagine that
the Newfoundland caribou migrate in a great mass like "la
foule " of the Barren-lands. On the contrary they travel
singly or in small parties of from two or three individuals
to twenty or at the most thirty. They are to be seen
running or walking swiftly along their main "fall trails,"
and are generally led by an old and experienced doe, with
the stag or stags bringing up the rear. In this way they
will go forty or fifty miles in a single night, and soon reach
the desired open ground, where they stop a few days until
they are moved on by successive waves of deer. In the late
fall it is common to find an area of country swarming with deer
one day and deserted the next. Two days afterwards the
same ground may be again covered with the animals, and
so this southward movement goes on until the end of
November, when the whole body of deer that intends to
mio-rate have reached their southern limit and their winter
quarters. Here they remain until March, when the north-
ward migration sets in and they return to their summer
homes.

The Millicete Indian name "Megaleep" (the wanderer)
is the most applicable one for the caribou ; for a more
fidgety, wandering, and dissatisfied creature does not exist
on the face of the globe. It is always thinking that the
other place is the best and trying to prove its theories.
Its whole character is one of restlessness and curiosity.
Except in summer, when it lies down in the woods at

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 329

midday, and in the autumn, when the rutting parties may
be seen sleeping at midday on the lake edges, it is rare
to see the caribou rest like other creatures, and so the man
who goes to find it must have long and strong legs. It
is more than a fool when it comes running back again and
again to stare at you or to take the wind, and more than
cunning when it makes its summer bed in some dense
thicket full of dry sticks where not one hunter in a thousand
can creep in or out without giving the alarm. In fact its
whole nature is one of complication and a mixture of qualities
alternately wise and idiotic.

The complex character of the reindeer is noticed in its
extreme shyness of certain things that other animals will
hardly notice, and its total absence of fear at the sound
of the rifle or the avalanche. I have seen many instances
of their nervousness. One day in 1906 I was watching five
does and a large stag, when a cock willow grouse ran out
of a small depression and stood upon a rock about half-
way between myself and the deer. The caribou actually
heard the scratching noise made by the grouse as it ran
up the rock, and all dipped their bodies suddenly and
started to run. Then seeing that it was only a grouse
they commenced feeding again. A moment later the bird
rose and flew over their heads uttering its merry cry, where-
upon the company without warning took to their heels with
all speed, and galloped away over the sky-line. On another
occasion I saw a small herd stampeded by a pair of ravens
which were simply "diving" through the air at each other.
The deer appeared to be much frightened and ran out of
sight. Wild geese rising also -puts them on the move,^

• G. L., writing in the Field, April 21, 1906, says that Greenland reindeer will
even take alarm at a snow-bunting flying by.

330 NEWFOUNDLAND

and stones falling down a hill create a state of "jumps."
Red deer, however, will take little notice of falling stones ;
but I have had more than one stalk spoilt in Norway by
dislodging a few pebbles which came within the hearing of
reindeer. This is the more curious, because stones are falling
all day in the high Qelds of Norway when the snow is melting.
On the other hand I have fired at and killed a stag in the
midst of a herd of caribou, when the deer, after merely turning
their heads, have continued to feed. In fact, if a strong wind
is blowing, and the fallen deer does not roll and kick, and
the hunter lies hidden, it is unusual for caribou to take much
notice of a shot.

The female call is a low grunt which she utters either
when travellinor or to attract her calf. She uses it at all
times, and the watch doe often makes this signal of alarm
before she raises her tail and bristles out the hair of the
rump. Females and males also make a loud puffing snort
or hiss as they spring into the air. In the rutting season
the stag makes use of two calls. It depresses the neck and
raises the nose, giving vent to three loud grunts. If much
excited it makes a second call, which is produced in the
throat by means of the breath being inhaled and exhaled
quickly. Mr. Thompson Seton, in an excellent article^ on
caribou, says, " In several parts of the country I find traditions
that formerly the Indians used to call the caribou as they
do the moose, but the art has been forgotten." The Indians
of Newfoundland invariably call the caribou stag in the
rutting season, and I have called many myself. The art
is quite easy, and can be learnt in a few days. The only
skill required is to know when to give the call. Travelling
stags come to the cry more easily than herd stags, and

' Scribner, 1906.

The Forty- five Pointer

Portaging Heads on the Long Harbor River

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 331

of this I have given several instances in the preceding
pages.

Caribou make a curious crackling sound as they walk
which has been explained in various ways. The Micmacs
say that it is produced by the hoofs overlapping on the ground
and springing back to the proper position as the leg is raised.
But this cannot be correct, as the sound is made when the
foot rests on the ground and the weight of the body is thrown
upon it. Sometimes it crackles twice as the weight descends,
and again as it lifts, and it is probably made, as Mr. Thompson
Seton suggests, by the tendons slipping over the adjoining
bones. The sound is not produced at every step, but is
generally heard when the leg is placed in some strained
position, as for instance when the deer grazes forward,
leaving a hind leg at full tension. A herd passing close to
the observer make a rattling sound like a band of castanets,
and can be heard at a distance of fifty feet or more on a
still day.

Between the front of all the hoofs there is a large gland,'
from two to four inches deep, and with the entrance covered
with bristly hairs, which secretes a musky yellow fluid. It
is almost the diameter of a pencil. It has been stated that
when the deer cross a human trail they put their noses to
their feet and then rush off at full speed. I have never seen
them do this. They put their noses to the ground and
carefully smell all the human tracks, and then gazing at each
other show unmistakable signs of fear, such as sudden starts,
springing into the air, and bristling out the stern. I have
never seen them actually smell at their own feet, and think
the gland is used for some occult purpose which at present

' The Greenland Esquimaux call this gland klookirtal ; the Micmacs have no
especial name for it.

332 NEWFOUNDLAND

we do not understand. Even the purpose of the human
glands are not yet understood.

The feet of the caribou are better adapted for running
on bogs, snow, and ice than anything that the brain of man
could devise. In a morass a 200-lb. man sinks in much deeper
than a 400-lb. caribou, whilst the former on snow-shoes or
" ski " has no chance whatever with the sure-footed reindeer.
I remember once pursuing some reindeer along the side of
a steep mountain in Norway when we came to a " snow-brae "
going up and over the mountain. It was so steep that it was
quite impossible to follow the deer in their ascent without the
help of an ice-axe to cut steps. Until then I had no idea
that these deer possessed such activity on snow and ice, for
their movements could only have been equalled by mountain
sheep, ibex, or markhor.

The hair of the caribou is very light and porous. It is
not thought that the deer possess wool, but the shoulders of
the adult Newfoundland caribou male are covered with a
soft, silky brown wool, which rises above the ordinary coat
of hair in October. The hair is so light that it causes this
deer to swim higher in the water than any other species. It
is so buoyant that it has been used to stuff life-belts, whilst
Dr. Wintz has invented a cloth of reindeer hair which when
made into clothes prevents the human body from sinking.
In consequence of the natural advantages of its covering the
caribou takes to the water with readiness and can swim long
distances at a considerable speed. It makes two men put
forth all their power as paddlers to overtake them in the water,
through which they can pass at five miles an hour. When
unmolested they go much slower, say three miles an hour,
and are very careful to take the wind of any spot they have
selected as a landing-place.

THE NEWFOUDLAND CARIBOU 333

A caribou will as soon swim as walk. I once saw two
does enter the extreme end of a long narrow lake about one
mile long and two hundred yards broad, and swim the whole
length, when they could easily have walked along the side.

The Newfoundland caribou are plagued throughout the
greater part of the year by flies and their maggots. Two
kinds of gad-fly infest them, and a large species squirts its
maggots, furnished with small hooks, into the channels of the
nostrils, where they feed on the mucus, and grow to a large
size by July, when they are ejected by the deer and finish
their final stage in the ground. The other, a small one, whose
maggot is laid in the skin of the back and flanks, must give
the deer endless torture. These commence to grow in October,
and are not got rid of until the end of July, when the skin
is riddled as if by swan-shot. The irritation caused by these
pests must be intense, for the deer are often to be seen rubbing
their flanks on the rocks and stones in spring-time. In the
summer, too, hosts of mosquitoes, sand flies, and black flies
attack them, and drive them to the highest points of land away
from the rivers.

It is very difticult to figure out the number of caribou in
Newfoundland, and all estimates must be mere guesses. Mr.
Moulton of Burgeo, judging by the numbers wintering in the
barrens north of that place and White Bear Bay, puts it at
250,000, and thinks they are increasing at the rate of 10,000
annually. Mr. Howley, on the other hand, places the figures
at 100,000, and I think that double this number is a very fair
estimate. In spite of the enormous slaughter which takes place
annually, and which is every year greatly on the increase,^

' I have the best authority for stating that over a thousand guns were sold by one
firm in St. John's in 1905. "Personally conducted" parties, numbering fifty men
in each party, are now coming from America every year, and who knows to what
this number may reach.

334 NEWFOUNDLAND

Newfoundland will keep her deer for many centuries to
come if all shooters are licensed, and the number of deer
shot by each person does not exceed three. Thus putting
the death-rate at the highest estimate of three animals
each to 4000 shooters, 12,000 would be killed out of
200,000, that is a depreciation of 6 per cent. Now this is
a much smaller rate of killing than takes place amongst
the stags of Scotland, and they are undoubtedly on the
increase. Ninety-nine per cent, of the interior of Newfound-
land is only fit for a caribou preserve, and the authorities
now recognise this.

It is a great pity that so little has been done in the way
of domesticating the Newfoundland caribou, and that for
causes easily explained only a few have been caught and
tamed. From their greater size,^ strength, and ferocity
during the breeding season the stags are too unsafe to
keep, but something might be done with the does on a small
scale, the stags being killed when they reached the age of
three years.^

The Governor of Newfoundland, Sir William MacGregor,
is much interested in the importation of Norwegian reindeer
into Labrador, where he believes they will be of much ad-
vantage to the natives. Owing to the generosity of Lord
Strathcona, a ship-load of these animals will shordy be sent
to Labrador, and it is intended that the Esquimaux of the
north coast will be put in charge of them as herdsmen.
Personally I think that it will be a mistake if these careless
little sea-rovers are assigned to this task, and that the deer

* Peter John had a stag for three years. It was perfectly tame and could be
handled until the third year, when it became so dangerous to all persons that he
was obliged to shoot it.

^ It is a common theory that two-year-old stags cannot beget good stock. This
is quite erroneous. A large percentage of calves of all deer are sired by these
youngsters, and are as good and strong as those begot by adult animals.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU 335

will suffer in consequence. Their whole natures are different
from those of the Lapps or the Indians, and they may
neglect their charges for the excitement of the chase. But
that the deer will thrive and breed if properly looked after
there is not a shadow of doubt. In Alaska a similar ex-
periment has met with great success, and all well-wishers
of the poor Labrador " Liveres " will rejoice if this unselfish
experiment on the part of Sir William MacGregor and Lord
Strathcona turns out well, for it is as yet too soon to
criticise it.^

In 1905 several moose were imported, but were in such
an enfeebled state when they were turned out that it is
doubtful if they survived, although various reports of their
being seen at points so widely apart as Black River, the
Upper H umber, and Bay of Islands, were current in 1906.
It is a matter of the highest importance that more of these
fine mammals should be introduced annually for a period of
five or six years, and that their care should be entrusted to
a competent keeper of wild animals both during transport
and after arrival. Every one who is acquainted with the
nature and habits of wild beasts is aware that during journeys
by sea and train most large animals are terribly upset and
will not feed, and that to turn them out in a new country
immediately on arrival is generally fatal. A stockade of say
two hundred yards square should be built somewhere near
the railway on a good site, say in the woods on the Gander
Lake, where the food of moose is abundant. There they
should be tended by their keeper for two or three weeks,
and fed with artificial food until they take to the natural

' As this work goes to press I am informed by Sir William MacGregor that " Dr.
Grenfell has ordered three hundred reindeer, and that they will be kept for the first
year at Anse Sablon." It is probable that these deer will be looked after by Lapps
or Norwegians vvho have spent their lives amongst reindeer.

336 NEWFOUNDLAND

browsing and have partially recovered their condition. Then
they could be liberated. All this would be rather more
expensive, but the extra money would not be wasted, and I
feel certain that if such methods were adopted moose would
be a great success in Newfoundland from every point of
view. They do no harm to timber trees, as they live princi-
pally on rowan and birch, and in summer on water-lily roots,
so that the wood companies could have no objection to them.
The few hundreds of pounds which the Government would
have to spend would be worth thousands in years to come.

One important point in connection with the introduction of
these animals is that it is necessary that all inhabitants of
Newfoundland should know of the experiment, otherwise the
animals are certain to be shot. I found in 1906 that the
Indians knew nothing of the moose that had been imported,
and if they had come across them the deer would have been
killed. It is therefore necessary that the Government should
inform the chief, Reuben Lewis, that they are anxious to
establish the moose, and that the Indians must not touch
them. In this case they would not be molested.

APPENDIX

Some men will always be successful in a new country, whilst others
will be unsuccessful. I have therefore never advised any man to
go to Newfoundland in search of sport, nor do I do so now,
unless he is personally known to me ; for there are a variety of
reasons why certain people should not go where disappointment
may await them.

In September heads are very difficult to obtain, and the hunter
must go far afield and work hard for his game. Besides this, many
who would like to visit the island are deterred by the fact that they
will only be allowed to shoot three stags. In late October, however,
it is not difficult to get three good specimens. Be that as it may, I
am continually receiving letters from strangers who are anxious to
hunt in Newfoundland, and so in self-defence I have appended the
following list, which comprises the whole outfit and its cost for one
sportsman for a month and ten days : —

Outfit for Forty Days' Travel

One waterproof sailor-bag, containing all personal necessaries, including fishing-
tackle, cartridges, photographic materials, clothes, &c.

One reindeer sleeping-bag (can be obtained from Mr. Brandt, furrier, Bergen,
Norway, for jQz, los.); in this package place a light sou'wester.

Two rifles in waterproof covers, with cleaning rod.

One trout-rod and landing-net.

One 2o-foot basswood canoe and paddles, which can be obtained from Mr.
Blair, St. John's; price, with landing dues, &c., ;^i2.

(If a long trip is projected, an additional 1 6-foot canoe to carry extra
provisions should be taken.)

Two guides, at 2 dollars a day each.

One box of provisions, which can be obtained from Mr. Blair, Water Street,
St. John's, containing the following : — 2 Premier axes, i hatchet, 6 fathoms
cod line, 3 bottles rum, i bottle brandy, i large kettle, 2 small kettles,

1 steel frying-pan, 3 tin boxes for holding tea, sugar, &c., 2 pepper and salt
tins, 2 lbs. powdered alum, i iron bake-pot, 20 lbs. bacon, 5 stone American
flour, 7 lbs. tea, 2 dozen boxes matches, 20 lbs. best sugar, 3 lbs. candles,

2 lbs. baking-powder, 12 tins Swiss milk, 3 lb. tins of jam, 9 lbs. of best
butter, 6 calico bags, 3 sets knives and forks, 3 teaspoons, i can-opener,
6 sail-needles, i ball twine, 6 cakes of soap, \ lb. pepper, 4 lbs. dried apples,
I tin lard, 4 lbs. tobacco, 2 bags of hard bread, i bag onions, 3 cups and
saucers. To this list may be added anything the traveller fancies.

Cost of whole outfit, including fares from England and return,
about ;^ioo.

337 y

338

APPENDIX

MiCMAC Indian Names for Animals, Trees, Places, &c.

Animals.

Bear .
Fox .
Marten
Ermine
Otter .
Beaver
Musk-rat
Lynx .
Wolf .
Whales

Mouin.

Wauk-wis.

A-bis-tan-ouch.

Skource.

Ku-nik.

Cub-it.

Kee-wa-su.

A-buk-sigan.

Pak-tissum.

Pudup.

Trees.

Birch .
Var

Spruce .
Poplar .
White Pine
Rowan .
Cherry .
Witch-hazel
Alder .
Reindeer Moss
Maldow

(Old man's

Masqui.
Stogan.
Kowat.
Mid-di.
Ku-wow.
Sem-o-se.
Wig-was-mose.
Nim-mogan.
Tup-si.
Wab-im-whol.
Hal-net
beard moss).

Birds.

White - headed
Eagle

Osprey

Horned Owl

Jay .

Woodpeckers
(three-toed)

Greater Yellow-
shanks

Canada Goose .

Dusky Duck

Red - breasted
Merganser

Great Northern
Diver

Kit-pu.

Wisk-ma-guaso.
De-digle.
Mik-ja-go-guch.

A-bodich.

Geg-wig-a-dich.

Sinnunk.

Hap-soi-sraimuch.

To-makon-e.

Quimuk.

Fish.

Ouananiche

Salmon
' Trout .
i Stickleback

Herring

Cod .

Towanow.

Plamu.

Had-a-wasu.

Cum-gila-gwitch .

Halunch.

Pa-chu.

Lakes, Rivers, &"€.

Bay Despair
Long Pond .
Soulis Ann Pond
Brazil Pond
Little Burnt Pond
Round Pond
Pipestone Lake .
Sit Down Lake .
Gander River
Millais's Lake
St. John's Lake .
Long Harbor River
Mount Sylvester .
Bond's Lake
Prowse's Lake

Lub-despe.

Waleje.

Souli-an-ek.

Brazil-ek.

Bad-e-wis-gek.

Mem-kus-cowpe.

To-mag-on-apse-wagodie.

Eneuchabeech Cospen.

Ha-glacea-waag.

Haliboo-waygodie.

Sambadista.

Sibook.

Minacktu.

N'Mooch-waygodie.

Podopsk.

Some Newfoundland Colloquialisms

The most of these are old English expressions of the days of the
Tudors and the Stuarts. The local population came mainly from

APPENDIX 339

the west of England, Devon, and Somerset. Old colonial customs
and words all had their origin in Devon, &c. All lakes are ponds,
and grouse are partridge, simply because there were no lakes or
grouse in Devon.

Breaching, fish rising on the top of the water.

Brews, a dish made of soaked biscuit, fish, &c. ; very good mess (cp. Beaumont

and Fletcher, " What an ocean of brews shall I swim in ").
Cruising, paying visits. A lady sent her servant to a friend, asking her would

she like to pay some calls with her in the afternoon. Servant man — "The

Missus wants to know if you will go cruising with her this afternoon."
Curry, the fish offal.

Douse, to put out a light (" Douse the glib," put out the lantern — Hamlet.)
Dout the fire, to put out (see Shakespeare).

Drake, a wooded narrow valley (probably same as the old English word drock).
Drung, a narrow lane.

Flankers, sparks from a wood fire coming out of the chimney.
Frore and froke, for frozen. ("The parching air burns frore " — Milton.)
Heft, to feel the weight of anything. Heft it, that is, see how heavy it is.
Linhay, a lean-to attached to the main building ; pronounced by the natives

linney. Well-known English word used in " Lorna Doone."
Logy, heavy, dull. Thus, a logy day.
Moidered, muddled, bothered. An old English expression.
Atouch, to play the truant from school.
Scat of snow, just a light fall.
" Scattered fish " means a small catch.

Seal : an old seal is a Doter; a two-year-old one, a Bedlamer.
Spurt, a run of fish.
Starrigans, small decayed sticks of trees ; boughs of burnt fir-trees ; a word of

contempt. A mean building of the Reformed Church of England in one

out-harbour was always known as the Starriga?i Church.
Stog : to stag a. house is to stuff moss, &c., between the posts.
Strouters, piling for a wharf.
Swoil is a seal. The seal fishery is always spoken of as the Spring of such

a year.
Yaffle, an armful of fish.
Yary, pronounced yarry ; means a careful, early-rising man. From the old

English. (Shakespeare, "Twelfth Night" — "Be yare in thy preparations.")

The Game Laws of Newfoundland
Provide that —

No person . . . shall pursue with intent to kill any caribou
from the ist day of February to the 31st day of July, or from the
ist day of October to the 20th October, in any year. And no
person shall . . . kill or take more than two stag and one doe
caribou in any one year.

No person is allowed to hunt or kill caribou within specified
limits of either side of the railway track from Grand Lake to Goose
Brook, these limits being defined by gazetted proclamation.

340 APPENDIX

No non-resident may hunt or kill deer (three stag) without
previously having purchased (50 dollars) and procured a licence
therefor. Licences to non-resident guides are issued, costing
50 dollars.

No person may kill, or pursue with intent to kill, any caribou
with dogs or with hatchet ... or any weapon other than firearms
loaded with ball or bullet, or while crossing any pond, stream, or
water-course.

Tinning or canning of caribou is absolutely prohibited.

No person may purchase, or receive in barter or exchange, any
fiesh of caribou between ist January and 31st July in any year.

Penalties for violation of these laws, a fine not exceeding
200 dollars, or, in default, imprisonment not exceeding two
months.

No person shall hunt or kill partridges before the first day of
October in any year. Penalty, not exceeding 100 dollars or
imprisonment.

Any person who shall hunt beaver or export beaver skins before
ist October 1907 shall be liable to confiscation of skins and fine
or imprisonment.

No person shall use any appliances other than rod, hook, and
line to catch any salmon, trout, or inland-water fishes within fifty
fathoms from either bank on the strand, sea, stream, pond, lake, or
estuary debouching into the sea.

Close season for salmon- and trout-fishing, 15th day of
September to nth day of January following.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &• Co.
Edinburgh 6* London

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

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