WARBURTON PIKE 277

air, in a strenuous effort to cut off the much wished for
caribou that would keep moving over open ground ;
perhaps your memory will take you back to the time
when you lay and watched some lumbering old grizzly
busily engaged in digging out a fear-stricken ground
squirrel, and waited for him to turn into a favourable
position, wondering too whether your shot might only
result in a vicious charge. Many memories you will have
of such grand stalks, of shots that killed or shots that
missed, of the joy and satisfaction you had when at last
you stood and gloated over some magnificent specimen
that your rifle had laid low, and many memories of the
beauties of that glorious country that the Almighty has
created for your pleasure.

To write about Cassiar and not make any mention of
my old friend, the late Warburton Pike, would be un-
thinkable, as he spent a good part of the last years of his
life in that district in a vain effort to win back from the
ground, by placer mining, some of the gold he had lost
in this country.

Poor old Pike was one of the most adorable of simple-
minded, unassuming gentlemen, and he ranked among the
highest of the real old-fashioned sportsmen who were
lovers of Nature, He was one of those men to whom
starvation and exposure were not worth reckoning when
he set out on some exploration trip he had made up his
mind to make. That he ever returned from one or two
of his expeditions was simply due to his determination
and fortitude.

Pike was not a man who had killed such an enormous
amount of game, though he might easily have done so
had he desired to, During the latter part of his life he
rarely fired a shot out of a rifle as the camera had become
a hobby with him, and with it he had remarkable success,
not only with big game but also with birds and sea lions
on the coast.

Of all the cheery, pleasant companions he was the most
cheery. No matter what his misfortune or how bad luck
assailed him, he always kept a smiling face and never