The attitude of unconcern has probably been developed in past generations through the habit of the Caribou of traveling in vast throngs. The threat of danger to a given individual in a herd of, say, 100,000 is practically negligible. From time immemorial the river crossings have represented a particular point of attack on the part of the natives. Yet when a large band of Caribou come to such a crossing, they may plunge in with little pause or hesitation. On the other hand, when a lone doe with her fawn approaches the river bank, she may be very circumspect, taking time to look carefully upstream and down, and across, before venturing into the water. I also saw another doe with a fawn exercise similar precaution, when she was merely the first of a band of 40 to reach the river’s edge. It is probably concern for her fawn that renders a doe more circumspect than a buck. When Fred Schweder, Jr., was endeavoring to intercept a Wolf on September 6, a fullgrown buck came feeding around a tree within 10 feet of him. The animal winded Fred without apparently seeing him, and went back and forth uncertainly for about a minute; finally it moved off very slowly. Stefánsson’s account (1913b) of his various adventures with Caribou near the Arctic coast of Mackenzie indicates a far wilder animal in that region than the one in Keewatin. It appeared a great deal easier for me, with no particular effort at caution, to get within photographic range (say a dozen feet to 50 yards) than for him to approach within rifle range (several hundred yards). Even after being fired upon, a single animal or a band in the Nueltin Lake region will rarely put distance between themselves and a hunter with all possible dispatch, as an alert White-tailed Deer would, but will run hither and thither in confusion, with frequent pauses to display their befuddlement. On October 8 I was a distant and saddened spectator of a scene of slaughter. A hundred or more Caribou were resting or feeding quietly on a bare ridge south of Lake Charles. They were distributed in a narrow formation, 75-100 yards long and from one to several animals deep. A hunter, approaching close to the south end of the herd, began firing. With one accord they made toward the north, but very shortly executed a sharp turn and came back rapidly in the opposite direction, passing in a narrow, compact column within 30 feet of the hunter, who continued shooting. In 200 or 300 yards they paused and allowed the hunter to come up with them and resume shooting. The process was repeated over a distance of three miles; but the pursuer now and then circled ahead of the herd instead of following in its tracks. The final toll: 29 Caribou hit and 22 or 23 secured--virtually a quarter of the herd destroyed and most of it to be used for dog feed.