316 Hunting Trips on the Prairie 



mountain lakes. As the bull turned to run I struck 

 him just behind the shoulder; he reeled to the 

 death-blow, but staggered gamely on a few rods 

 into the forest before sinking to the ground, with 

 my second bullet through his lungs. 



Two or three days later than this I killed another 

 bull, nearly as large, in the same patch of woods in 

 which I had slain the first. A bear had been feed- 

 ing on the carcass of the latter, and, after a vain 

 effort to find his den, we determined to beat through 

 the woods and try to start him up. Accordingly, 

 Merrifield, the teamster, and myself took parallel 

 courses some three hundred yards apart, and started 

 at one end to walk through to the other. I doubt 

 if the teamster much wished to meet a bear alone 

 (while nothing would have given Merrifield more 

 hearty and unaffected enjoyment than to have en- 

 countered an entire family), and he gradually edged 

 in pretty close to me. Where the woods became 

 pretty open I saw him suddenly lift his rifle and 

 fire, and immediately afterward a splendid bull elk 

 trotted past in front of me, evidently untouched, 

 the teamster having missed. The elk ran to the 

 other side of two trees that stood close together 

 some seventy yards off, and stopped for a moment 

 to look round. Kneeling down I fired at the only 

 part of his body I could see between the two trees, 

 and sent a bullet into his flank. Away he went, and 

 I after, running in my moccasins over the moss and 

 pine needles for all there was in me. If a wounded 

 elk gets fairly started he will go at a measured trot 



