Time was slipping away all too fast; the last week in
August was not far distant, and the George River waters might not
be easy to find. The days were becoming increasingly anxious for
me. Our caribou meat was nearly gone, and a fresh supply of game
would have been very welcome. There would be a chance to put out
the nets when we reached the head of the lake, and the scouting had
to be done. The nets had not yet touched the water.
In the night the wind veered to the north and a steady rain set in,
which was still falling when morning came. All were up late for it
was too stormy to travel, and rest still seemed very good. While
eating breakfast we heard geese calling not far away, and started
on a goose hunt. It did not prove very exciting, nor very fruitful
of geese. They were at the head of the bay which ran in east of
our island. There were a number of small islands in the bay
separated by rock-strewn shallows, and having landed Job and Joe on
one of the largest of these, George, Gilbert and I paddled round to
the south of the group, and came out in the upper part of the bay.
There just over the marsh grass at its head we saw five geese, but
they saw us too, and before we could get near them were up and
away. On the way back four red-throated loons, two old and two
young, and a spruce partridge were taken.
It was nearly noon when we reached camp again, and the men were in
the midst of preparing dinner when they caught sight of a big
caribou stag swimming across to the point south of us. In such
circumstances Job was indescribable. He seemed as if suddenly
inspired with the energy of a flying bullet, and moved almost as
silently. There was a spring for the canoe, and in much less time
than it takes to tell it, the canoe was in the water with Job,
Gilbert, and George plying their paddles with all their strength.
As had happened before, the splendid creature almost reached the
shore when a bullet dropped in front of him, and he turned back.
His efforts were now no match for the swift paddle strokes that
sent the canoe lightly towards him, and soon a shot from George's
rifle ended the struggle. He was towed ashore, bled and
gralloched, and brought to camp in the canoe.
Most of the afternoon was spent in cutting up the caribou, and
putting it on a stage to dry. While they were busy with their task
there came again the sound of the wild goose call. Seizing the
rifles, George and Gilbert made off across the island, and soon
came back with two young geese, and word that there was another
there but too far out in the water for them to get it. Whereupon
Job and Joe went off in the canoe, and after a short time came back
with a third. This made a pretty good day's hunt. George's record
was, one spruce partridge, two young geese, and one caribou.
We had young wild goose for supper that night. I think I never
have tasted anything more delicious, and with hot fried cakes it
made a supper fit for a king. As we ate the men talked about the
calls of the wild birds.
George said: "I do like to hear a wild goose call." Certainly no
one who heard him say it would doubt his word. After a little he
continued: "There is another bird, too, that the Indians call 'ah-
ha-way,' that I used to like so much to listen to when I was a boy.
How I used to listen to that bird call. I tell you if you heard
that bird call you could just sit and listen and listen. I don't
know the English name for it. It is a very small duck, just a very
little bird."
Speaking of the loons we had heard calling on Lake Michikamau he
said: "You should hear some of the little Indian boys calling the
loons. Men's voices are too strong and rough, but some of those
little boys, they can do it very well. You will just see the loons
come and circle round and round over them when they call."
All day long the rain had fallen steadily. I spent most of it in
my tent, but the men had been out the whole day and were soaked.
Having done their washing on Sunday they had no dry clothes to put
on, and so slept wet that night.
CHAPTER XII
THE MIGRATING CARIBOU
Tuesday morning, August 8th, dawned clear and calm, and Gilbert
came forth to light the fire, singing: "Glory, glory, hallelujah!
as we go marching along." Yet before the tents were taken down the
wind had sprung up from the southwest, and it was with difficulty
that the canoes were launched and loaded.
A short distance above our starting-point, we were obliged to run
into a sheltered bay, where part of the load was put ashore, and
with the canoes thus lightened we crossed to a long, narrow point
which reached half-way across from the other side, making an
excellent breakwater between the upper and lower parts of the lake.
The crossing was accomplished in safety, though it was rough enough
to be interesting, and Job and Joe went back for what had been left
behind.
The point terminated in a low, pebbly beach, but its banks farther
up were ten to twelve feet high, and above it was covered with
reindeer moss.
