410 BUFFALO LAND. 



mediately adopted. Up the side of the sloping ridge 

 we carefully crawled, and, reaching the summit, 

 peeped over. Half a dozen big antlered fellows, and 

 as many does, were feeding along the slope below. 

 Only one of them, a splendid male, was within shoot- 

 ing distance at all, and even for it the range was 

 long. The guide and Muggs fired together, breaking 

 the poor creature's shoulder. 



What a startled stare the noble animals flashed 

 back at the crack of the rifles, and how quickly they 

 disappeared. Their trot was perfectly grand great, 

 firm strokes which seemed to fairly fling the bodies 

 onward. We had hardly time to realize having 

 fired, when their tails bade us distant adieu. It is 

 said that no horse can keep up with the trot of the 

 elk. If charged upon suddenly, however, from close 

 quarters, he is frightened into an awkward gallop, 

 and may then be overtaken easily. 



Our wounded game looked formidable, and we 

 approached cautiously. He made several efforts to 

 run, but each time fell forward, in plunging slides, on 

 his nose and side, rubbing the hair from the latter, 

 and daubing the ground with blood from his nostrils. 

 Muggs felt free to confess that even the pampered 

 stags of England, when perilously roused from their 

 well-kept glens, by over-fed hunters in killing coats 

 and boots, never presented such a picture of wild 

 beauty and agony, colored just the least bit with 

 danger. At this "kill" we lost our black hound. 

 Tempted to incaution by the sight of the noble elk 

 standing wounded and at bay, or else excited by its 

 blood, the dog sprang forward. A chance blow of the 



