A Day with the Elk 
spair of getting what I wanted. For two 
days I sulked in my tent, and then one morn- 
ing Robert Bruce’s historic spider fell into 
my lap from the tent-pole, and I arose and 
went forth for a last try. 
Our camp was by a stream in an aspen 
grove, on the edge of one of those open spaces 
which, be they large or small, are known in 
Colorado as parks. Behind us to the south 
lay heavily timbered ridges, alternating with 
little valleys full of shade-trees, long, sweet 
grass, and pleasant brooks. There, I thought, 
was as good a place as any in which to find 
the “faultless monster that the world ne’er 
saw, and thither I accordingly went. 
It was about noon when I started, and my 
intention was to work away to the south, and 
then hunt back to camp toward evening. I 
know that there are those who say that if you 
want to kill game you must get up early. 
They are perfectly right, and I agree with 
them entirely. But there are others who 
maintain with equal truth that toward sun- 
down is the best time. One time is as good 
as the other, and inasmuch as an empty belly 
and the dark before the dawn are bitter things 
63 
