DAY IN CAMP Tue heat of the stove and the strong, steady sun- light that fell on the tent released the stored-up fragrance of the spruce-boughs upon which I lay. On the stove was a pan of moose-meat stew from which a savoury smell escaped. Through the open flap of the tent I could see the sunlight on melting snow. Under a tree a sleigh-dog lay dreaming. Camp-robbers fluttered and flopped on nearby branches; fat, cheeky birds they were, and very bold. Travelling had become almost impossible in these days of warm sunlight, and one must wait for the evening frost. And so, in drowsy comfort, I lay listening to the flopping, fluttering whisky- jacks and the light stirring of the wind. From time to time I got up to replenish the stove or to add more snow to the stew, but the day’s bannock was already made and there was little to interrupt the lazy drifting of my thoughts:—Telegraph Creek, not so many miles away now; the sun thawing the slopes behind it; dogs panting in the sun; the mail- carrier nearing Telegraph on his last trip; letters; 53