ON THE PRAIRIE 189 



hunter should be a lover of nature as well as 

 of sport, or he will miss half the pleasure of 

 being in the woods. 



The finest bull, with the best head that I 

 got, was killed in the midst of very beautiful 

 and grand surroundings. We had been hunt- 

 ing through a great pine wood which ran up 

 to the edge of a broad canyon-like valley, 

 bounded by sheer walls of rock. There were 

 fresh tracks of elk about, and we had been 

 advancing up wind with even more than our 

 usual caution when, on stepping out into 

 a patch of open ground, near the edge of 

 the cliff, we came upon a great bull, beating 

 and thrashing his antlers against a young 

 tree, about eighty yards off. He stopped 

 and faced us for a second, his mighty ant- 

 lers thrown in the air, as he held his head 

 aloft. Behind him towered the tall and 

 sombre pines, while at his feet the jutting 

 crags overhung the deep chasm below, that 

 stretched off between high walls of barren 

 and snow-streaked rocks, the evergreens 

 clinging to their sides, while along the bot- 



