An Elk-Hunt at Two-Ocean Pass. 185 



changed to a steady downpour when we again got under 

 way. Two or three miles farther we pitched camp, in a 

 clump of pines on a hillock in the bottom of the valley, 

 starting hot fires of pitchy stumps before the tents, to dry 

 our wet things. 



Next day opened with fog and cold rain. The drenched 

 pack-animals, when driven into camp, stood mopingly, with 

 drooping heads and arched backs ; they groaned and 

 grunted as the loads were placed on their backs and the 

 cinches tightened, the packers bracing one foot against the 

 pack to get a purchase as they hauled in on the lash-rope. 

 A stormy morning is a trial to temper ; the packs are wet 

 and heavy, and the cold makes the work even more than 

 usually hard on the hands. By ten we broke camp. It 

 needs between two and three hours to break camp and get 

 such a train properly packed ; once started, our day's 

 journey was six to eight hours, making no halt. We started 

 up a steep, pine-clad mountain side, broken by cliffs. My 

 hunting-shoes, though comfortable, were old and thin, and 

 let the water through like a sieve. On the top of the first 

 plateau, where black spruce groves were strewn across the 

 grassy surface, we saw a band of elk, cows and calves, trot- 

 ting off through the rain. Then we plunged down into a 

 deep valley, and, crossing it, a hard climb took us to the 

 top of a great bare table-land, bleak and wind-swept. We 

 passed little alpine lakes, fringed with scattering ^warf 

 evergreens. Snow lay in drifts on the north sides of the 

 gullies ; a cutting wind blew the icy rain in our faces. 

 For two or three hours we travelled toward the farther 

 edge of the table-land. In one place a spike bull elk 



