1 88 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



countless miles ; when suddenly and greatly 

 alarmed, they break into an awkward gallop, 

 which is faster, but which speedily tires them. 



I have occasionally killed elk in the neigh- 

 borhood of my ranch on the Little Missouri. 

 They were very plentiful along this river until 

 1 88 1, but the last of the big bands were 

 slaughtered or scattered about that time. 

 Smaller bunches were found for two or three 

 years longer ; and to this day, scattered indi- 

 viduals, singly or in parties of two or three, 

 linger here and there in the most remote and 

 inaccessible parts of the broken country. In 

 the old times they were often found on the 

 open prairie, and were fond of sunning them- 

 selves on the sand bars by the river, even at 

 midday, while they often fed by daylight (as 

 they do still in remote mountain fastnesses). 

 Nowadays the few survivors dwell in the tim- 

 ber of the roughest ravines, and only venture 

 abroad at dusk or even after nightfall. 

 Thanks to their wariness and seclusiveness, 

 their presence is often not even suspected by 

 the cowboys or others who occasionally ride 

 through their haunts ; and so the hunters only 

 know vaguely of their existence. It thus hap- 

 pens that the last individuals of a species 

 may linger in a locality for many years after 

 the rest of their kind have vanished ; on the 

 Little Missouri to-day every elk (as in the 

 Rockies every buffalo) killed is at once set 

 down as "the last of its race." For several 

 years in succession I myself kept killing one 

 or two such " last survivors." 



A yearling bull which I thus obtained was 

 killed while in company with my staunch 



