Late one afternoon, when Joe and myself were caught out through having tracked a wounded moose unsuccessfully for a long way, it began to rain hard. It was too late and too far to return to the main camp. At Joe’s suggestion we made for an old de— serted cabin, which we reached only through his familiarity with the country and his well- developed ‘homing instinct’. The cabin had been long abandoned and its days of useful- ness were over. The greater part of the roof had caved in and a part of the floor had been torn up. Ashes indicated that a fire had recently been built there by some former tenants who, like ourselves, had sought its questionable shelter in a time of need. We were wet to the skin, but our matches and tobacco were dry. Joe soon had a fire going, its smoke passing out through the uncovered end of the cabin. Though the rain con- tinued and it was dark, Joe managed to get in wood enough to keep the fire going for most of the night. We sat there and smoked and talked, and notwithstanding the dis— comfort of our situation, I, at least, spent an enjoyable evening.

Joe told several good stories, and one, an amusing tale about a titled Englishman for