“Now, you boys, we don’t want no fooling this blessed day,” he said, when breakfast was in order, and the campers were emptying for the second time their tin mugs of coffee. “There’s sport before us—tearing good sport. Whatever do you s’pose I come on this morning when I was cruising over the bog for water? Caribou-tracks! Caribou-tracks, as sure as there’s a caribou in Maine!