An Elk-Hunt at Two-Ocean Pass 217 



by some master bull who had turned him out of the 

 herd. 



We cut off the head, and bore it down to the train. 

 The horses crowded together, snorting, with their 

 ears pricked forward, as they smelt the blood. We 

 also took the loins with us, as we were out of meat, 

 though bull elk in the rutting season is not very 

 good. The rain had changed to a steady downpour 

 when we again got under way. Two or three 

 miles further we pitched camp, in a clump of pines 

 on a hillock in the bottom of the valley, starting hot 

 fires of pitchy stumps before the tents, to dry our 

 wet things. 



Next day opened with fog and cold rain. The 

 drenched pack-animals, when driven into camp, 

 stood mopingly, with drooping heads and arched 

 backs; they groaned and grunted as the loads were 

 placed on their backs and the cinches tightened, the 

 packers bracing one foot against the pack to get a 

 purchase as they hauled in on the lash-rope. A 

 stormy morning is a trial to temper; the packs are 

 wet and heavy, and the cold makes the work even 

 more than usually hard on the hands. By ten we 

 broke camp. It needs between two and three hours 

 to break camp and get such a train properly packed ; 

 once started, our day s journey was six to eight 

 hours, making no halt. We started up a steep, pine- 

 clad mountain side, broken by cliffs. My hunting- 

 shoes, though comfortable, were old and thin, and 



10 VOL. II. 



