o tackle in the water

Next morning we found that everything was covered with a heavy blanket
of snow

The bear circled a little in order to descend. Presently it left the
shadow

Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes

As the wolf dashed away, the bounding clog sent the snow flying

"There's the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to Winnipeg"

"It was on my father's hunting grounds, and late one afternoon"

Oo-koo-hoo could even hear the strange clicking sound

After half of May had passed away, and when the spring hunt was over

The departure of the Fur Brigade was the one great event of the year

INTRODUCTION

It was in childhood that the primitive spirit first came whispering to
me. It was then that I had my first day-dreams of the Northland--of
its forests, its rivers and lakes, its hunters and trappers and
traders, its fur-runners and mounted police, its voyageurs and
packeteers, its missionaries and Indians and prospectors, its animals,
its birds and its fishes, its trees and its flowers, and its seasons.

Even in childhood I was for ever wondering . . . what is daily going on
in the Great Northern Forest? . . . not just this week, this month, or
this season, but what is actually occurring day by day, throughout the
cycle of an entire year? It was that thought that fascinated me, and
when I grew into boyhood, I began delving into books of northern
travel, but I did not find the answer there. With the years this
ever-present wonder grew, until it so possessed me that at last it
spirited me away from the city, while I was still in my teens, and led
me along a path of ever-changing and ever-increasing pleasure, showing
me the world, not as men had mauled and marred it, but as the Master of
Life had made it, in all its original beauty and splendour. Nor was
this all. It led me to observe and ponder over the daily pages of the
most profound and yet the most fascinating book that man has ever tried
to read; and though, it seemed to me, my feeble attempts to decipher
its text were always futile, it has, nevertheless, not only taught me
to love Nature with an ever-increasing passion, but it has inspired in
me an infinite homage toward the Almighty; for, as Emerson says: "In
the woods we return to reason and faith. Then I feel that nothing can
befall me in life--no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes)--which
Nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground--my head bathe