thus drive the game before them, until the animals, on coming out into
the open at the other end, were attacked by men in ambush. At those
driving grounds in the right season--even if a drive of only a few
miles were made--the Indians could count on securing two or three
bears, three or four moose, and twelve or fifteen caribou. But in
later years, a number of the drivers having been accidentally shot from
ambush, the practice has been discontinued in those localities.


THE BEAR IN HIS WASH

It is not an uncommon occurrence for a hunter, when travelling through
the winter woods, to discover the place where a bear is hibernating;
the secret being given away by the condensed breath of the brute
forming hoar frost about the imperfectly blocked entrance to the wash.
The Indians' hunting dogs are experts at finding such hidden treasure,
and when they do locate such a claim, they do their best to acquaint
their master of the fact.

One day when Oo-koo-hoo was snowshoeing across a beaver meadow, his
dogs, having gained the wooded slope beyond, began racing about as
though they had scented game and were trying to connect a broken trail.
So The Owl got out his pipe and sat down to have a smoke while his dogs
were busily engaged. Presently they centred on a certain spot, and
Oo-koo-hoo, going over, discovered the tell-tale hoar frost. Twisting
out of his snowshoes--for an Indian never has to touch his hands to
them when he puts them on or takes them off--he used one of them for a
shovel, and digging away the snow, he came upon a bear's wash. It was
quite a cave and dark inside, and as the dogs refused to enter, the
hunter crawled into the entrance and reaching in as far as he could