INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



lowed him as he confidently pursued his way 

 through the sage brush and timber, until 

 finally, ascending a small knoll, I espied, just 

 over the crest, the tops of the antlers spread 

 out like the branches of a tree. The elk was 

 stretched out in beautiful repose, his neck 

 supported against a fallen tree, which held 

 up his antlers. 



At last my trophy was won, and I had 

 something to show to admiring friends. 



For the present the keen edge was taken 

 off my desire to kill, because I had something 

 to take back as a memento of the trip. A fine 

 trophy serves to identify most appropriately 

 a hunting experience, and as the years roll by 

 the memories of certain camps cluster about 

 each head and revive thrilling scenes which 

 might otherwise become dimmed amid an 

 uncongenial environment. 



A considerable portion of my remaining 

 time I spent in easy life in camp. The meat 

 was a welcome addition to the larder and 

 90 



