168 HUNTING CAMPS. 



toddler of about four years, all vociferous and happy. 

 Two other farmers, part-owners 1 suspect, also turned 

 up. Mathias took a long look at the bull, assured him- 

 self that it was very fat, then crossed over to me and 

 solemnly shook hands, a ceremony which is the equiva- 

 lent of the Norwegian " thank you." He and the whole 

 party were in high spirits, for the elk was in size and 

 condition a most satisfactory perquisite. There is rather 

 a shrill-voiced humanitarianism which condemns the 

 killing of wild game. I think if these good people 

 could but see the joy of the Norsk farmers when an elk 

 is killed on their ground they might incline to a fairer 

 judgment of the hunter and his craft. 



After giving final instructions to Mathias concerning 

 the head and horns, Peder and I resumed our quest, 

 and I shall always look upon the later events of that 

 afternoon as among the luckiest of my hunting experi- 

 ences. About eleven we lunched upon the hillside, and 

 afterwards commenced a long and quite fruitless search 

 for elk. For five hours we walked steadily, visiting 

 many likely haunts, and during the whole time never 

 came upon a single track or sign. 



It was already four o'clock when we found ourselves 

 upon another part of the same hill on which we had 

 started the bull the day before. The slope was even 

 more than usually precipitous and covered with a dense 

 growth of birch. As we had so far seen no track and 

 the dog had given no warning, I was just about to give 

 the word for home (some dozen or more switchback 

 miles away) when Bismarck bristled and began to lead 

 forward in a manner suggestive of possibilities. 



The wind had now changed and was blowing up the 

 hillside behind us, so we took a wide cast to cover our 



