1 86 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



warm blankets. Bull elk were challenging 

 among the mountains on both sides of the 

 valley, a little way from us, their notes echo- 

 ing like the calling of silver bugles. Groping 

 about in the dark, I drew on my trousers, an 

 extra pair of thick socks, and my moccasins, 

 donned a warm jacket, found my fur cap and 

 gloves, and stole out of the tent with my 

 rifle. 



The air was very cold ; the stars were be- 

 ginning to pale in the dawn ; on the ground 

 the snow glimmered white, and lay in feathery 

 masses on the branches of the balsams and 

 young pines. The air rang with the chal- 

 lenges of many wapiti ; their incessant calling 

 came pealing down through the still, snow- 

 laden woods. First one bull challenged ; 

 then another answered ; then another and 

 another. Two herds were approaching one 

 another from opposite sides of the valley, a 

 short distance above our camp ; and the 

 master bulls were roaring defiance as they 

 mustered their harems. 



I walked stealthily up the valley, until I 

 felt that I was nearly between the two herds ; 

 and then stood motionless under a tall pine. 

 The ground was quite open at this point, the 

 pines, though large, being scattered ; the 

 little brook ran with a strangled murmur be- 

 tween its rows of willows and alders, for the 

 ice along its edges nearly skimmed its breadth. 

 The stars paled rapidly, the gray dawn 

 brightened, and in the sky overhead faint 

 rose-colored streaks were turning blood-red. 

 What little wind there was breathed in my 

 face and kept me from discovery. 



