American Bifi-Game Huntin"; 



to 



whose voice was so deep and sonorous that I 

 readily recognized it as the one I had heard 

 a few nights previous in the same locaHty. 

 At that time my companion and I had chris- 

 tened him the "elk with the fog-horn." In 

 the midst of the commotion, George gave vent 

 to several startling yells, which I supposed 

 were made in his effort to turn the band. 



In a short time he returned, breathless and 

 tired. As soon as he was able to speak, he 

 recounted a tale of wonder which can readily 

 be imagined by any of the readers of this 

 chapter for whom George has acted in the 

 multiple capacity of guide, cook, philosopher, 

 and friend. He said that when the band got 

 his wind, after several short stampedes, they 

 dashed directly toward him, and as I had 

 made him leave his rifle with me, he had no 

 alternative except to climb a tree or jump out 

 where he could be seen and swing his arms 

 and yell. He said that this stopped the 

 band, but the old bull with the fog-horn 

 walked directly toward him until he thought 

 he was going to charge, and looked for a 

 convenient tree. After inspecting George, 

 however, the bull walked off with his band, 

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