I asked George to take his rifle and settle the matter quickly. He
did, and the sound of the water as the caribou made his way through
it ceased. I did not need to look again to know what had happened.
He was towed ashore, skinned and dressed, but how I wished I could
think of him as speeding over his native hills, rather than as he
was. Yet, too, I knew it was well for us that we had secured the
supply, of fresh meat, for although we had considerably more than
half the original supply of provisions, we were still far from the
journey's end.

It was a three-year-old stag, Job said, and when the operation of
skinning and cutting up had been performed, we had about 250 lbs.
of fresh meat added to our supply.

The day was now fine, though occasional light showers passed; but
these rather added to the beauty all about us than otherwise. The
river was proving a succession of lake expansions, for the most
part not more than half a mile wide. Rugged, barren mountains rose
in all directions, and I had the feeling of being up among the
hill-tops, as if these were not whole hills, but only their tops.
The trip was proving so beautiful and easy that my state of mind
was one of continued surprise. I had none of the feeling of
loneliness, which I knew every one would expect me to have. I did
not feel far from home, but in reality less homeless than I had
ever felt anywhere, since I knew my husband was never to come back
to me. So far I had encountered none of the real stress of
wilderness life, everything had gone well with us, everything was
made easy for me; I had had no hardships to bear, and there was the
relief of work to do, work which would for ever associate my
husband's name with the country where he hoped to begin his