MY CAMP, SHOE HILL DROKE
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HOMEWARD BOUND
CHAPTER VIII
HOMEWARD BOUND
Just as we had packed up a fearful thunderstorm came on which lasted over an hour, and we did not get away till 11.45, arriving at Sandy Pond at 3 o'clock, wet through. The water was pouring down the hill sides, every deep deer track was a torrent, and it was heavy going through the marshes. We had a meal and a change of clothes, and, packing the canoes, reached the portage into Sandy Pond at dusk. The evening was fine; we pitched camp in a nice droke and over a good hot supper at 9 o'clock the discomforts of the day were soon forgotten. By the aneroid the Shoe Hill Droke was 370 feet above the level of Sandy Grove Pond. There was just a last chance of a stag, as Steve said there was some good ground in the direction of where I had shot the first stag. I sent him out at daybreak on the 22nd, and he came back reporting three stags about half-a-mile away, one of which he thought was a good one.