AN ELK-HUNT A T TWO-OCEAN PASS. 211 



weather became clear and very cold, so that 

 the snow made the frosty mountains gleam 

 like silver. The moon was full, and in the 

 flood of light the wild scenery round our camp 

 was very beautiful. As always where we 

 camped for several days, we had fixed long 

 tables and settles, and were most comfortable ; 

 and when we came in at nightfall, or some- 

 times long afterward, cold, tired, and hungry, 

 it was sheer physical delight to get warm 

 before the roaring fire of pitchy stumps, and 

 then to feast ravenously on bread and beans, 

 on stewed or roasted elk venison, on grouse 

 and sometimes trout, and flapjacks with maple 

 syrup. 



Next morning dawned clear and cold, the 

 sky a glorious blue. Woody and I started to 

 hunt over the great table-land, and led our 

 stout horses up the mountain-side, by elk- 

 trails so bad that they had to climb like goats. 

 All these elk-trails have one striking peculi- 

 arity. They lead through thick timber, but 

 every now and then send off short, well-worn 

 branches to some cliff-edge or jutting crag, 

 commanding a view far and wide over the 

 country beneath. Elk love to stand on these 

 lookout points, and scan the valleys and mount- 

 ains round about. 



Blue grouse rose from beside our path; 

 Clarke's crows flew past us, with a hollow, 

 flapping sound, or lit in the pine-tops, calling 

 and flirting their tails ; the gray-clad whisky- 

 jacks, with multitudinous cries, hopped and 

 fluttered near us. Snow-shoe rabbits scuttled 

 away, the big furry feet which give them their 

 name already turning white. At last we came 



