He married, settled down
among the natives contentedly, and has never moved since. This,
curiously, is the case of many men who come to the North, after leading
wandering and adventurous lives.
Unfavorable winds at Kaguiac delayed our sailing, so we passed the time
in excursions after ptarmigans and mallards. We also secured here
another native, a strong, willing worker, who knew the coast.
The weather cleared suddenly, the wind shifting from northeast to
northwest, and enabled us to make a run to our first good hunting ground
in Windy Bay, a large piece of water five miles long by three wide, and
surrounded by rock mountains covered with snow, the only bare ground to
be seen at this time being on the low foothills, and in the sunny
ravines. We made ourselves at home at the only good anchorage in a small
cove with high crags on two sides and a ravine running off toward the
east.
The following morning--April 28--opened bright and calm, and we were
soon viewing the snow slopes with our glasses. Ivan, the new man, was
the first to call our attention to a streak on a distant mountain side,
and although perhaps 2-1/2 miles away, we could make out, even with the
naked eye, a deep furrow in the snow running down diagonally into the
valley below, undoubtedly a bear road.
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