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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 09, July, 1858"


"Pack the _tobaugan_, Zach! The sun will come out strong by and by, and
the longer we tarry here, the heavier the snow will be for our stretch to
the Citadel. Up, there! _leve-toi, cochon!_" shouted I, in the elegant
terms of address which experience had taught me were the only ones that
had any effect upon the stolid sensibilities of the half-breed,--at the
same time administering to him a kick that produced a _thud_ and a grunt,
as if actually bestowed on the unclean quadruped to which I had just
likened him. The ragamuffin was very slow this time in getting the traps
together on the _tobaugan_, and, if I had not attended to the matter
myself, the moose trophy, at least, would in all probability have been
left to perish, and would never have pointed a moral and adorned a tale,
as it now does, in its exalted position among the reminiscences of things
past. At length we got under way, and, as a walk over the open plain
offered a pleasing variety to a man who had been feeling his way so long
through the dim old woods, I determined to descend from the ridge of
Beauport, and proceed over the snow-covered surface of the bay, in a
bird's-eye line, to our point of destination. Winding down the almost
perpendicular declivity, sometimes sliding down on our snow-shoes, with
the _tobaugan_ running before us, "on its own hook," at a fearful pace,
and sometimes obliged to descend, hand under hand, by the tangled roots
and shrubs, we soon found ourselves on the great white winter-prairie of
the grand St.


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