CHAPTER II 



INLY a few years ago northwestern Colorado 

 was the home of countless herds of elk, while 

 to-day but few are left, owing to the greed of 

 man for the money which was to be made by 

 killing them and selling their hides and meat. Many of them 

 emigrated to Wyoming to join the Yellowstone Park herds. 

 While they were still plentiful we rode out one day five or six 

 miles from home, and in a short time found a band of six or 

 seven hundred, and by much quiet work got a view of them at 

 about two hundred and fifty yards. I spent many days and weeks 

 trying to get other pictures, but with very poor success. While 

 they would seem to have but little cunning, it will be found, 

 when stalking is attempted, that they have selected the top of 

 some hill that has no cover near by, or are on the lee side of 

 a ridge, so that it is impossible to approach down wind. This 

 applies to the open, rolling winter ranges. 



In March, 1899, Billy Hill and I started out one day on our 

 long Norwegian skis to see if we could outwit some of the 

 many bull elk we could see from our cabin near the head of 

 Green River in Wyoming. But a short distance out we found 

 a bull down in a little canon on Roaring Fork. Hill circled 

 round him while I watched, and when he had reached the 



33 



