The sun was lighting up bright spots where the peat
bogs held miniature lakes, among which were tiny islands of bushes and
low trees dotting the great marsh. Here and there small tamaracks stood
quite apart, as if their ragged dress had caused them to be ostracized by
the better clad spruces and firs.
Suddenly the men stopped near a little tree, and I saw that much of its
brown bark had been stripped off. On the white wood beneath there were
some curious dark red spots.
"A big stag has been rubbing his horns here within a day or two, Miss
Jelliffe," the doctor told me. "You ought to see one of them at work.
Their horns must itch desperately when they are ready to shed their
velvet, for they hook away at these saplings as if they were actually
fighting them. Such blows as they give; one can hear them quite far off.
Look at this place where the wood has actually been splintered off. These
marks are dried blood. And now look down at your feet. This fellow is
surely a big one, the ground is soft and he has left a huge track. You
will notice that the toes are widely separated, and that the dew claws
have also left their mark. No other deer than the caribou ever make that
fourfold imprint, and they only do it on muddy ground or in snow."
"How I wish I could see him!" I cried, excitedly.
He had taken out a pair of field glasses, and was sweeping the great
barren with them.
"One does not often see the stags on the marsh at this time of the year,"
he said.
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