THE WAPITI. 187 



I made up my mind, from the sound of the 

 challenging, now very near me, that one bull 

 on my right was advancing towards a rival on 

 my left, who was answering every call. Soon 

 the former approached so near that I could 

 hear him crack the branches, and beat the 

 bushes with his horns ; and I slipped quietly 

 from tree to tree, so as to meet him when he 

 came out into the more open woodland. Day 

 broke, and crimson gleams played across the 

 snow-clad mountains beyond. 



At last, just as the sun flamed red above 

 the hill-tops, I heard the roar of the wapiti's 

 challenge not fifty yards away ; and I cocked 

 and half raised my rifle, and stood motion- 

 less. In a moment more, the belt of spruces 

 in front of me swayed and opened, and the 

 lordly bull stepped out. He bore his massive 

 antlers aloft ; the snow lay thick on his mane ; 

 he snuffed the air and stamped on the ground 

 as he walked. As I drew a bead, the motion 

 caught his eye ; and instantly his bearing of 

 haughty and warlike self-confidence changed 

 to one of alarm. My bullet smote through 

 his shoulder-blades, and he plunged wildly 

 forward, and fell full length on the blood- 

 stained snow. 



Nothing can be finer than a wapiti bull's 

 carriage when excited or alarmed ; he then 

 seems the embodiment of strength and stately 

 grace. But at ordinary times his looks are 

 less attractive, as he walks with his neck level 

 with his body and his head outstretched, his 

 horns lying almost on his shoulders. The 

 favorite gait of the wapiti is the trot, which is 

 very fast, and which they can keep up for 



