Soon they saw us and trotted off
into the bush, though without sign of any great alarm. George and
Job made off across the swamp to the right to investigate, and not
long after returned, their eyes blazing with excitement, to say
that there were hundreds of them not far away.
Slipping hurriedly back into the canoes we paddled rapidly and
silently to near the edge of the swamp. Beyond it was a barren
hill, which from near its foot sloped more gradually to the water.
Along the bank, where this lower slope dropped to the swamp, lay a
number of stags, with antlers so immense that I wondered how they
could possibly carry them. Beyond, the lower slope of the hill
seemed to be a solid mass of caribou, while its steeper part was
dotted over with many feeding on the luxuriant moss.
Those lying along the bank got up at sight of us, and withdrew
towards the great herd in rather leisurely manner, stopping now and
then to watch us curiously. When the herd was reached, and the
alarm given, the stags lined themselves up in the front rank and
stood facing us, with heads high and a rather defiant air. It was
a magnificent sight. They were in summer garb of pretty brown,
shading to light grey and white on the under parts. The horns were
in velvet, and those of the stags seemed as if they must surely
weigh down the heads on which they rested.
