230 The Wilderness Hunter 



off on foot for a hunt. Just before sunset we came 

 on three or four elk ; a spike bull stood for a moment 

 behind some thick evergreens a hundred yards off. 

 Guessing at his shoulder, I fired, and he fell dead 

 after running a few rods. I had broken the luck, 

 after ten days of ill success. 



Next morning Woody and I, with the packer, 

 rode to where this elk lay. We loaded the meat on 

 a pack-horse, and let the packer take both the loaded 

 animal and our own saddle-horses back to camp, 

 while we made a hunt on foot. We went up the 

 steep, forest-clad mountain-side, and before we had 

 walked an hour heard two elk whistling ahead of 

 us. The woods were open, and quite free from 

 undergrowth, and we were able to advance noise- 

 lessly; there was no wind, for the weather was still, 

 clear and cold. Both of the elk were evidently very 

 much excited, answering each other continually; 

 they had probably been master bulls, but had become 

 so exhausted that their rivals had driven them from 

 the herds, forcing them to remain in seclusion until 

 they regained their lost strength. As we crept stealth- 

 ily forward, the calling grew louder and louder, until 

 we could hear the grunting sounds with which the 

 challenge of the nearest ended. He was in a large 

 wallow, which was also a lick. When we were 

 still sixty yards off, he heard us, and rushed out, but 

 wheeled and stood a moment to gaze, puzzled by 

 my buckskin suit. I fired into his throat, breaking 



