Weeso got greatly excited; these were the forerunners of the vast herd. He said, "Plenty Caribou now," and grinned like a happy child.
I went in one direction, taking only my camera. At least 20 Caribou trotted within 50 feet of me.
Billy and Weeso took their rifles intent on venison, but the Caribou avoided them and 6 or 8 shots were heard before they got a young buck.
All that day I revelled in Caribou, no enormous herds but always a few in sight.
The next day Weeso and I went to the top ridge eastward. He with rifle, I with camera. He has a vague idea of the camera's use, but told Billy privately that "the rifle was much better for Caribou." He could not understand why I should restrain him from blazing away as long as the ammunition held out. "Didn't we come to shoot?" But he was amenable to discipline, and did as I wished when he understood.
Now on the top of that windy ridge I sat with this copper-coloured child of the spruce woods, to watch these cattle of the plains.
The Caribou is a travelsome beast, always in a hurry, going against the wind. When the wind is west, all travel west; when it veers, they veer. Now the wind was northerly, and all were going north, not walking, not galloping—the Caribou rarely gallops, and then only for a moment or two; his fast gait is a steady trot a 10-mile gait, making with stops about 6 miles an hour. But they are ever on the move; when you see a Caribou that does not move, you know at once it is not a Caribou; it's a rock.
We sat down on the hill at 3. In a few minutes a cow Caribou came trotting from the south, caught the wind at 50 yards, and dashed away.
In 5 minutes another, in 20 minutes a young buck, in 20 minutes more a big buck, in 10 minutes a great herd of about 500 appeared in the south. They came along at full trot, lined to pass us on the southeast. At half a mile they struck our scent and all recoiled as though we were among them. They scattered in alarm, rushed south again, then, gathered in solid body, came on as before, again to spring back and scatter as they caught the taint of man. After much and various running, scattering, and massing, they once more charged the fearsome odour and went right through it. Now they passed at 500 yards and gave the chance for a far camera shot.
The sound of their trampling was heard a long way off—half a mile—but at 300 yards I could not distinguish the clicking of the feet, whereas this clicking was very plainly to be heard from the band that passed within 50 yards of me in the morning.