It was mid-September as Dene Joe hefted the old Lee Enfield to his sinewy old shoulder and peered over the metal gun sight, carefully lining up on the bull caribou 80 meters away. It had been a long hunt and Joe was real tired. It had taken three full days to find this animal; they were scarce now. The rifle boomed, the barrel jerked skyward simultaneously punching the .303 round through the neck of the bull. It collapsed on its legs.