AN ELK SEASON. 167 



Peder and I were hastening through the trees on the 

 rediscovered trail. Evidently the elk had entered the 

 lake, and had either found himself too weak to cross it 

 or, as I think, simply meant to throw us off his track, and 

 had for a time succeeded only too well in doing so. 

 Bismarck now raced along the trail at a great pace. At 

 length we jumped the elk among some pine trees three 

 hundred yards ahead, and then for another steady two 

 hours we followed him. At the end of that time I had 

 almost given up hope that he would ever stop ; as we 

 passed through a young wood, we were aware of the huge, 

 high-shouldered beast standing in the middle of a marsh 

 with his back to us. Peder urged me to shoot at once, 

 but the animal was in a bad position, and I was deter- 

 mined to take no more chances. He was quite unaware 

 of our presence, and I waited a little, hoping he might 

 turn broadside on. But he did not move, and I began 

 to be afraid of his starting off again. I aimed carefully 

 and fired. He was about one hundred and eighty yards 

 from me, and at the shot he turned, giving me as he did 

 so the first clear sight of an elk's shoulder I had yet had 

 in Norway. I immediately fired again, and on receiving 

 this last bullet he collapsed. Immediately Peder ran up 

 and Bismarck leaped upon the body, tearing out tufts 

 of its hair, rolling on it and barking. I found that two 

 of my shots had missed the bull. When we came to 

 examine the head we found, as I had expected, that it 

 was a poor one, although and this is very frequently 

 the case the body of the elk was both large and heavy. 

 After using the knife Peder and I retraced our steps to 

 the lake, and I waited on the nearer side while my 

 hunter and his dog went off to fetch Mathias, who 

 presently appeared with his entire family, including a 



