The Arctic Prairies By Ernest Thompson Seton

 -  For them, it proved a wholly erroneous forecast.

Y.'s guide is Sousi King Beaulieu (for pedigree, see Warburton
Pike - Page 80
The Arctic Prairies By Ernest Thompson Seton - Page 80 of 131 - First - Home

Enter page number    Previous Next

Number of Words to Display Per Page: 250 500 1000

Save Money On Flights

For Them, It Proved A Wholly Erroneous Forecast.

Y.'s guide is Sousi King Beaulieu (for pedigree, see Warburton Pike); he knows all this country well and gave us much information about the route.

He says that this year the Caribou cows went north as usual, but the bulls did not. The season was so late they did not think it worth while; they are abundant yet at Artillery Lake.

He recognised me as the medicine man, and took an early opportunity of telling me what a pain he had. Just where, he was not sure, but it was hard to bear; he would like some sort of a pain-killer. Evidently he craved a general exhilarator. Next morning we got away at 7 A. M. after the usual painful scene about getting up in the middle of the night, which was absurd, as there was no night.

Next afternoon we passed the Great White Fall at the mouth of Hoar Frost River; the Indians call it Dezza Kya. If this is the Beverly Falls of Back, his illustrator was without information; the published picture bears not the slightest resemblance to it.

At three in the afternoon of July 27th, the twelfth day after we had set out on the "three or four day run" from Resolution, this exasperating and seemingly interminable voyage really did end, and we thankfully beached our York boat at the famous lobstick that marks the landing of Pike's Portage.



One of the few rewarding episodes of this voyage took place on the last morning, July 27. We were half a mile from Charleston Harbour when one of the Indians said "Cheesay" (Lynx) and pointed to the south shore. There, on a bare point a quarter mile away, we saw a large Lynx walking quietly along. Every oar was dropped and every rifle seized, of course, to repeat the same old scene; probably it would have made no difference to the Lynx, but I called out: "Hold on there! I'm going after that Cheesay."

Calling my two reliables, Preble and Billy, we set out in the canoe, armed, respectively, with a shotgun, a club, and a camera.

When we landed the Lynx was gone. We hastily made a skirmishing line in the wood where the point joined the mainland, but saw no sign of him, so concluded that he must be hiding on the point. Billy took the right shore, Preble the left, I kept the middle. Then we marched toward the point but saw nothing. There were no bushes except a low thicket of spruce, some 20 feet across and 3 or 4 feet high. This was too dense to penetrate standing, so I lay down on my breast and proceeded to crawl in under the low boughs. I had not gone six feet before a savage growl warned me back, and there, just ahead, crouched the Lynx. He glared angrily, then rose up, and I saw, with a little shock, that he had been crouching on the body of another Lynx, eating it.

Enter page number   Previous Next
Page 80 of 131
Words from 40825 to 41339 of 67135

Previous 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 Next

More links: First 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100
 110 120 130 Last

Display Words Per Page: 250 500 1000

Africa (29)
Asia (27)
Europe (59)
North America (58)
Oceania (24)
South America (8)

List of Travel Books RSS Feeds

Africa Travel Books RSS Feed

Asia Travel Books RSS Feed

Europe Travel Books RSS Feed

North America Travel Books RSS Feed

Oceania Travel Books RSS Feed

South America Travel Books RSS Feed

Copyright © 2005 - 2012 Travel Guides