176 The Elk of the Pacific Coast 



is apt to start him moving out of the country 

 at a pace few care to follow. He knows some- 

 thing is wrong, and cares not to trust himself 

 to decide so important a matter. If such noise 

 should be near enough to alarm a deer, he would 

 only go half a mile or so, stop and look around 

 awhile, go another quarter, perhaps, and look a 

 little more, then fall to feeding a bit, listen 

 awhile, and finally lie down again, within sound, 

 probably, of that same rifle. But the elk will 

 travel over hill and dale, crossing vast gulches 

 and scaling stupendous heights for league upon 

 league until away beyond all danger. And even 

 then he may keep travelling for a day or two 

 more. No matter how much you may scare the 

 deer, he will be back to the same ground before 

 long, for he has been twisting and turning and 

 doubling on his course during most of the run, 

 however long it may be. But you may not see 

 the elk again that season if you have once run 

 him out with noise. And it is almost equally 

 futile to try to overtake him in a stern chase 

 when on such a journey. He can walk too fast 

 and too far, while as a trotter he is a master even 

 among great windfalls. With his long legs he 

 can cross a log so large that few horses care to 

 leap it even where raised in the woods. The 

 great horns, which look all the time as if they 

 would entangle him in the first bush, he carries 



