American Big Game in its Haunts 



his haunches. Seeing that the bull was trying to 

 regain his feet, I gave him another shot, and run- 

 ning up drove off the dog. 



Now, for the first time, I had a good chance to 

 see my trophy. I knew that it was a good head, 

 but hardly expected such large and massive antlers. 

 They were malformed and turned in, or the spread 

 would have been considerably larger, but even 

 then they went over sixty inches, with forty-four 

 well defined points. I am quite sure that this was 

 the same bull that we had seen so often among the 

 alders, and which I had twice before unsuccess- 

 fully stalked. 



Our march was delayed until we skinned out the 

 head, cleaned the scalp, and hung the meat in some 

 near-by trees for future use. It was therefore late 

 that afternoon when we reached our new camp. 

 We now settled ourselves comfortably, for we 

 meant to stay in these quarters for the remainder 

 of the hunt. 



The next week my friend Blake joined me, and 

 we scoured the country around this camp most dili- 

 gently, but with no further success. Daily we 

 came upon cows and small bulls, but it seemed as 

 if all the large males had left the neighborhood. 

 Stamp holes and unmistakable signs of the rut- 

 ting season were found everywhere, but with the 



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