reared, plunged, snorted a warning, but were forced onward by the
pressure behind. Then the leading bulls gave a few mighty bounds which
brought them close up to me, but left a clear space for the
frightened, crowding animals behind. The swiftest shot ahead to the
lead; the great herd lengthened out from its compact mass; swerved
easily to the left, as at a word of command; crashed through the
fringe of evergreen in which I had been hiding,--out into the open
again with a wild plunge and a loud cracking of hoofs, where they all
settled into their wonderful trot again, and kept on steadily across
the barren below.

That was the sight of a lifetime. One who saw it could never again
think of caribou as ungainly animals.

Megaleep belongs to the tribe of Ishmael. Indeed, his Latin name, as
well as his Indian one, signifies The Wanderer; and if you watch him a
little while you will understand perfectly why he is called so. The
first time I ever met him in summer, in strong contrast to the winter
herd, made his name clear in a moment. It was twilight on a wilderness
lake. I was sitting in my canoe by the inlet, wondering what kind of
bait to use for a big trout which lived in an eddy behind a rock, and
which disdained everything I offered him. The swallows were busy,
skimming low, and taking the young mosquitoes as they rose from the
water. One dipped to the surface near the eddy. As he came down I saw
a swift gleam in the depths below. He touched the water; there was a
swirl, a splash--and the swallow was gone. The trout had him.

Then a cow caribou came out of the woods onto the grassy point above
me to drink. First she wandered all over the point, making it look
afterwards as if a herd had passed. Then she took a sip of water by a