The Boy With the U. S. SurveyRolt-Wheeler, Francis
General
The Boy With the U. S. Survey
Rolt-Wheeler, Francis
Geological Survey (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
"I've never had a chance at any big game, before, Mr. Rivers," joyfully
said the boy.
"All right, then," said the chief, smiling, "I guess you won't reduce
the visible supply of caribou in Alaska enough to hurt."
Immediately after dinner the three started, and Roger's luck was with
him, for as they rounded the corner of a mountain slope, Gersup halted,
and pointed with his finger to four specks about three miles away.
Raising his field glasses, he said:
"There you are, Doughty; there are your caribou. You've worked pretty
hard and ought to have some fun out of it. We can get along all right,
and you go after them. You can't very well get lost, but don't try to
track them after dark."
Roger nodded, and skirting the slope until he was hidden from the
animals' view, he started on a run for a couple of miles, until he
thought it would be necessary to exert more prudence. A long and weary
progress through the rough country, with the endeavor not so much as to
crack a twig or rustle a leaf, brought the lad at last to the little
valley where he had seen the caribou, and there the shelter stopped,
except for sundry large boulders, which did not afford a complete
cover. Roger had worked round, of course, so that he was coming up wind.
He had come within about half a mile of them, when he found cover
absolutely gone, so lying prone on his face, and just wriggling forward
by movements of his knees a foot or so at a time, he spent at least an
hour advancing a quarter of a mile on the objects of his quest.
Suddenly, when he was about four hundred yards away, though he was not
conscious of having made a sound, and though he had not been able to
discern any change in the direction of the wind, the nearest of the four
stopped feeding and threw up his head. The boy had been careful,
throughout his crawl, to change the sight on his rifle to the distance
he estimated he was from the game, and so, when the caribou stopped, he
was ready. He waited a moment, hoping that the animal, seeing and
hearing nothing, would resume feeding, but instead, the alarm seemed to
communicate itself to the others, and they appeared to prepare for
flight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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