American Big-Game Hunting 
ending with those liquid flute-notes that make 
the blood run quickly in the most phlegmatic 
hunter’s veins. A quick glance showed me 
that I could not approach him any nearer, 
and putting up my sight, as I thought, high 
enough, I pressed the trigger, and saw the 
bullet strike just under his belly. He whirled 
and made for cover, and out of pure despera- 
tion I gave him another shot, without result. 
In a shorter time than I have spent in telling 
this, the twilight had entirely disappeared, and 
I wended my way back to camp with only the 
memory of what I had seen to repay me 
for the wetting which my hurried crossing 
of the brook had given me. 
For three days we had climbed mountains, 
wallowed through mud-holes, and tobogganed 
down clay banks, hunting for elk which the 
Indians had frightened away from the Snake 
River by their noisy mode of hunting. There 
were four lodges of Bannacks, and they had 
some eighty horses of various kinds and 
colors. They said they had spent six weeks 
there jerking elk-meat for their winter’s food. 
The country which we crossed during these 
three days was completely checkered with elk 
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