THE MUSK-OX AND ITS HUNTING
By Caspar Whitney
IN THE FAR NORTH
I
My First Kill
We had passed through the “Land of Little Sticks,” as the Indians so appropriately call that desolate waste which connects the edge of timber land with the Barren Grounds, and had been for several days making our way north on the lookout for any living thing that would provide us with a mouthful of food.