By the evening of the first day, as good fortune would have it, we
baited among many signs of caribou, and not only were fresh caribou
tracks to be seen, but also those of wolves, for the latter were
trailing the deer. The incident reminded Oo-koo-hoo of a former
experience which he told as we sat by the fire.


WOLVES RUNNING CABIBOU

"It happened years ago. For weeks, my son, I had had ill luck and my
family were starving. For days I had hunted first one kind of game and
then another, but always without success. Then, as a last resort, I
started after caribou, though I well knew that I should have to travel
a long distance before falling in with them. But in the end I was
rewarded. The going was bad, mostly through a dense growth of small
black spruce, where the trees stood so close together that I had
difficulty in hauling my sled, being compelled, at times, to turn on
edge, not only my toboggan, but also my snowshoes, in order to pass
between. After several hours' hard work the forest grew more open and,
about noon of the third day, I discovered a band of caribou quietly
sunning themselves on a large muskeg.

"Some were feeding, others were lying down, fawns were scampering about
in play, and young bulls were thrusting at each other with their
prong-like horns. There were over a hundred in all. I watched them
for some time before I was discovered by seven young bulls, and as they
were nearest me, they stopped in their play, left the others, and came
down wind to investigate the strange two-legged creature that also wore
a caribou skin.