A Day with the Elk 
them. For my part I have always had quite 
enough to do to keep my head and feet agreed 
as to the direction of camp. Any extra strain, 
such as the necessity of looking for a mislaid 
horse, is sure to cause a disagreement be- 
tween the members, and so bring on a catas- 
trophe. 
I had been out several hours. It was get- 
ting on toward evening, and I was well on my 
way home. There was no lack of elk in the 
neighborhood, for my more fortunate friends 
had proved that they were easy to find. I 
could see that bands had roved that very 
morning over the country through which my 
path lay. I could see where some great bull 
had thrashed the young sapling with his 
horns till the tender bark was stripped off, or 
hung in long, wet ribbons from the wounded 
tree. And in the pools where the big fellows 
had wallowed, the mud had scarce settled. 
In places the grass was trampled and littered 
as if by a bunch of cattle. The “sign” was 
plentiful and fresh. Still I heard no whistle, 
nor saw a living thing, save now and then 
when a big-eyed blacktail doe would gaze at 
me with mild wonder until she got my wind, 
5 65 
