with grass and low
brush, spread out on either side the stream. From the canoe I made out
two or three waving lines of bushes where some animals were making
their way through the swamp towards a strip of big timber which formed
a kind of island in the middle.

Pushing my canoe into the grass, I made for a point just astern of the
nearest quivering line of bushes. A glance at a bit of soft ground
showed me the trail of a mother caribou with her calf. I followed
cautiously, the wind being ahead in my favor. They were not hurrying,
and I took good pains not to alarm them.

When I reached the timber and crept like a snake through the
underbrush, there were the caribou, five or six mother animals, and
nearly twice as many little ones, well grown, which had evidently just
come in from all directions. They were gathered in a natural opening,
fairly clear of bushes, with a fallen tree or two, which served a good
purpose later. The sunlight fell across it in great golden bars,
making light and shadow to play in; all around was the great marsh,
giving protection from enemies; dense underbrush screened them from
prying eyes--and this was their schoolroom.

The little ones were pushed out into the middle, away from the
mothers to whom they clung instinctively, and were left to get
acquainted with each other, which they did very shyly at first, like
so many strange children. It was all new and curious, this meeting of
their kind; for till now they had lived in dense solitudes, each one
knowing no living creature save its own mother. Some were timid, and
backed away as far as possible into the shadow, looking with wild,
wide eyes from one to another of the little caribou, and bolting to
their mothers' sides at every unusual movement. Others were bold, and
took to butting at the first encounter. But careful, kindly eyes
watched over them. Now and then a mother caribou would come from the
shadows and push a little one gently from his retreat under a bush out
into the company. Another would push her way between two heads that
lowered at each other threateningly, and say with a warning shake of
her head that butting was no good way to get along together. I had
once thought, watching a herd on the barrens through my glasses, that
they are the gentlest of animals with each other. Here in the little
school in the heart of the swamp I found the explanation of things.

For over an hour I lay there and watched, my curiosity growing more
e