CHAPTER XVI. A DEER HUNT IN NEWFOUNDLAND.
How grandly beautiful the scene
Where ocean wrestles with its prey;—
The rugged rocks all fringed with green—
The iceberg glittering and serene—
And ocean, wearing both, away.
Away up on the northern coast of Newfoundland, in the month of September, a group of pleasure seeking tourists were idly lounging about a roaring fire, smoking and telling pleasing stories, while the aroma of good coffee, and an occasional whiff of savory venison steak wetted their appetites, and made them well pleased with themselves, the world in general and Newfoundland in particular. Only a short distance across the water they could see the smoke from the mining village of Pilley's Island, and hear the shrill whistle that called the swarthy miners to and from their labors in the cavernous drifts of an enormous mine of iron ore.
Sharks swam recklessly near their anchored craft, and seals protruded their shiny heads within easy vision.