Old Ephraim 335 



us, we sat still to wait for his approach ; until, in the 

 gathering gloom, we could no longer see the sights 

 of our rifles, and could but dimly make out the car- 

 cass of the great elk. It was useless to \&it longer ; 

 and we clambered down and stole out to the edge 

 of the woods. The forest here covered one side of 

 a steep, almost canyon-like ravine, whose other side 

 was bare except of rock and sage brush. Once out 

 from under the trees there was still plenty of light, 

 although the sun had set, and we crossed over some 

 fifty yards to the opposite hillside, and crouched 

 down under a bush to see if perchance some animal 

 might not also leave the cover. To our right the 

 ravine sloped downward toward the valley of the 

 Bighorn River, and far on its other side we could 

 catch a glimpse of the great main chain of the Rock- 

 ies, their snow peaks glinting crimson in the light of 

 the set sun. Again we waited quietly in the grow- 

 ing dusk until the pine trees in our front blended 

 into one dark, frowning mass. We saw nothing; 

 but the wild creatures of the forest had begun to 

 stir abroad. The owls hooted dismally from the 

 tops of the tall trees, and two or three times a harsh 

 wailing cry, probably the voice of some lynx or 

 wolverine, arose from the depths of the woods. At 

 last, as we were rising to leave, we heard the sound 

 of the breaking of a dead stick, from the spot where 

 we knew the carcass lay. It was a sharp, sudden 

 noise, perfectly distinct from the natural creaking 

 and snapping of the branches ; just such a sound as 

 would be made by the tread of some heavy creature. 



