“Caribou!” trilled Toma, becoming suddenly tremendously excited, and almost falling off his mount as he craned his neck in order to get a better view. “Pretty soon you see something mebbe you never forget. Only one time before I watch ’em big caribou herd.”
Dick and Sandy had often been told about but had never witnessed one of the most interesting and marvelous sights to be seen in the far North—a migrating herd of caribou! Almost as numerous as the bison or American buffalo that once roamed over the western plains of the United States, twice a year—south in the autumn, north in the spring—these sleek, antlered beasts, that very much resemble the reindeer of northeastern Europe, formed themselves into vast herds and started forth on the inevitable trek to new grazing grounds.
Dick’s breath caught with excitement as he followed their slow, unhurried course. On and on they came in a dense, black wave, pouring out over the prairie in one long, seemingly endless column. Their thundering hooves shook the earth. Had the boys possessed rifles and been less kind-hearted, they might easily have slaughtered hundreds of the mild-eyed, forward-surging animals without leaving a single gap in the line.
“In all my life I’ve never seen anything so wonderful!” Sandy gasped.
“Neither have I,” admired Dick. “I can believe now the story that Malemute Slade told me one time. He and a mounted policeman, named Corporal Casserley, were proceeding north through the first heavy snow of early winter when they met a huge herd of caribou travelling south. For three hours they stood shivering in the cold, waiting for the herd to go by. Finally, they were forced to build a campfire and erect a shelter. It was not until noon of the following day that the last of the herd passed and Slade and Casserley were permitted to proceed on their journey.”
“I’d hate to ride out in the path of the caribou,” Sandy declared, as he turned his pony’s head. “It might cause them to stampede.”
“It would be very apt to,” Dick replied. “Personally, I haven’t any desire to be trampled under their hooves. In preference to being chopped into mince-meat, I think I’ll steer my course more to the east and avoid them.”
“I think like that too,” smiled Toma. “What you say we hurry along now an’ get back to mine. Pretty soon we get hungry an’ no like to stop an’ build campfire then. Much better we travel fast an’ cook ’em big dinner soon we get there.”
“And I want to get there before Uncle Walter arrives,” remembered Sandy.
“I don’t think we’ll find them at the mine,” said Dick. “They’ll be in exactly the same boat that we were. They won’t know where the mine is. During the last hour or two I’ve been turning things over in my mind, and I’ve just about come to the conclusion that our best plan is to go right on past the plateau to Thunder River, where we made the crossing. I’m sure we’ll meet them sooner by doing that.”