American Big-Game Hunting 



and then away she would bounce through the 

 timber, followed by her startled fawn. 



But the shadows were getting longer and 

 the air cooler; the sun was going rapidly 

 down hill. I knew that now was the time 

 when the elk were sure to be moving down 

 out of the timber for their evening feed in the 

 open glades. I was making my way quietly 

 along a little stream, whose timbered banks 

 afforded good cover, and at the same time a 

 view of the small parks running up to the 

 wooded ridges on either side. Suddenly my 

 heart went to my throat, and I dropped in 

 my tracks. There — to the left and within a 

 few yards of me — was a cow coming down 

 through the timber to drink. Close behind 

 her was another cow, and then a young spike 

 bull. I lay still and breathless, praying to all 

 the gods that the band, which I felt sure was 

 behind, might pass my hiding-place. There 

 would surely be a big bull or two among 

 them, and at that distance if I missed — . I 

 was already thinking whether the neck or 

 the shoulder was the best chance. The cow 

 bent her head to the water, and began to 

 drink. Her two companions paused on the 



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