222 The Wilderness Hunter 



became clear and very cold, so that the snow made 

 the frosty mountains gleam like silver. The moon 

 was full, and in the flood of light the wild scenery 

 round our camp was very beautiful. As always 

 where we camped for several days, we had fixed 

 long tables and settles, and were most comfortable; 

 and when we came in at nightfall, or sometimes long 

 afterward, cold, tired, and hungry, it was sheer 

 physical delight to get warm before the roaring fire 

 of pitchy stumps, and then to feast ravenously on 

 bread and beans, on stewed or roasted elk venison, 

 on grouse and sometimes trout, and flapjacks with 

 maple syrup. 



Next morning dawned clear and cold, the sky a 

 glorious blue. Woody and I started to hunt over 

 the great tableland, and led our stout horses up the 

 mountain-side, by elk-trails so bad that they had to 

 climb like goats. All these elk-trails have one strik 

 ing peculiarity. They lead through thick timber, 

 but every now and then send off short, well-worn 

 branches to some cliff-edge or jutting crag, com 

 manding a view far and wide over the country 

 beneath. Elk love to stand on these lookout points, 

 and scan the valleys and mountains round about. 



Blue grouse rose from beside our path; Clark s 

 crows flew past us, with a hollow, flapping sound, 

 or lit in the pine-tops, calling and flirting their tails ; 

 the gray-clad whiskey- jacks, with multitudinous 

 cries, hopped and fluttered near us. Snowshoe rab- 



