“Well, no, I didn’t for a fact,” replied Ethan; “I just caught sight of the big beast; then the brush closed behind him, and left me staring, with my gun half way up to my shoulder. But it was a good-sized one, let me tell you, even making allowances for any little excitement on my part.”
The caribou had chanced to be a young one, which Phil considered fortunate indeed. Lub did his very best at cooking the steaks cut from the joint, but for all that none of the boys seemed to be wildly pleased with the meat. The fact probably was they had too many good things along with them; had their larder been empty, and their stomachs craving food, that meal would have been a real hunters’ feast without a doubt.
“I think we’re doing remarkably well, so far,” Lub was saying, after they were through with supper, and sat around in lazy attitudes, enjoying the sparkle and glow of the comfortable fire; “what with getting a real savage wolf, a walking bear, and now a caribou, the last a species of deer which none of us have ever seen before.”
“Yes, all we need now to complete the string of big game to be found up here is a moose, together with a lynx that has tassels on its ears,” laughed Ethan; “and to-morrow may bring that list down to the cat tribe, if Phil and myself have any luck on our tramp.”
“I’m wondering how I can set my usual flashlight trap up here of nights, so as to get a few pictures of Canadian wild animals in their native haunts,” Phil remarked. “If any of you happen to glimpse the tracks of a fox, or a mink, or any sort of little beast, be sure and let me know. I want to follow the trail up and learn where he has his haunt, so I can lay for him.”
“How about the beaver houses Mr. McNab told us we might find up that stream, unless some sportsmen or fur-gatherers have cleaned the colony out?” Ethan asked.
“I was thinking of that,” replied Phil, “and there may be a chance for us to hit that same stream on our way to-morrow. So I think I’ll carry my camera along, and be ready.”
“I’ve seen their houses behind a dam they’d made,” remarked Ethan; “but it was in the early fall. A place like that must look picturesque when the snow is everywhere around.”
“I hope we can find the colony pond, and that the hard working beaver haven’t been cleaned out,” Phil continued; after which the conversation drifted into other channels, though Ethan would not be apt to forget when the morrow came, for he was always a great hand to recollect things.
The night had closed in as cold as ever, and it was easy to be seen that winter was getting a good firm grip up here in the far northern wilderness of Canada, and in the famous Saguenay River region.