the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
clacking sound as caribou run.

Sometimes, however, they overestimate their abilities, and their
wandering disposition brings them into trouble. Once I found a herd of
seven up to their backs in soft snow, and tired out,--a strange
condition for a caribou to be in. They were taking the affair
philosophically, resting till they should gather strength to flounder
to some spruce tops where moss was plenty. When I approached gently on
snowshoes (I had been hunting them diligently the week before to kill
them; but this put a different face on the matter) they gave a bound
or two, then settled deep in the snow, and turned their heads and said
with their great soft eyes: "You have hunted us. Here we are, at your
mercy."

They were very much frightened at first; then I thought they grew a
bit curious, as I sat down peaceably in the snow to watch them. One--a
doe, more exhausted than the others, and famished--even nibbled a bit
of moss that I pushed near her with a stick. I had picked it with
gloves, so that the smell of my hand was not on it. After an hour or
so, if I moved softly, they let me approach quite up to them without
shaking their antlers or renewing their desperate attempts to flounder
away. But I did not touch them. That is a degradation which no wild
creature will permit when he is free; and I would not take advantage
of their helplessness.

Did they starve in the snow? you ask. Oh, no! I went to the place next
day and found that they had gained the spruce tops, ploughing through
the snow in great bounds, following the track of the strongest, which
went ahead to break the way. There they fed and rested, then went to
some dense thickets where they passed the night. In a day or two the
snow settled and hardened, and they took to their wandering again.

Later, in hunting, I crossed their tracks several times, and once I
saw them across a barren; but I left them undisturbed, to follow other
trails. We had eaten together; they had fed from my hand; and there
is no older truce on earth than that, not even in the unchanging East,
where it originated.

Megaleep in a storm is a most curious creature, the nearest thing to a
ghost to be found in the woods. More than other animals he feels the
falling barometer. His movements at suc