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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