2i8 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



gathered our pack-animals one frosty morning, 

 and again set off across the mountains. A 

 two-days' jaunt tool< us to the summit of 

 Wolverine Pass, near Pinyon Peak, beside a 

 little mounteiin tarn ; each morning we found 

 its surface skimmed with black ice, for the 

 nights were cold. After three or four days, we 

 shifted camp to the mouth of Wolverine Creek, 

 to get off the hunting grounds of the Indians. 

 We had used up our last elk-meat that morn- 

 ing, and when we were within a couple of 

 hours' journey of our intended halting-place, 

 Woody and I struck off on foot for a hunt. 

 Just before sunset we came on three or four 

 elk ; a spike bull stood for a moment behind 

 some thick evergreens a hundred yards off. 

 Guessing at his shoulder, I fired, and he fell 

 dead after running a few rods. I had broken 

 the luck, after ten days of ill success. 



Next morning Woody and I, with the 

 packer, rode to where this elk lay. We loaded 

 the meat on a pack-horse, and let the packer 

 take both the loaded animal and our own sad- 

 dle-horses back to camp, while we made a 

 hunt on foot. We went up the steep, forest- 

 clad mountain-side, and before we had walked 

 an hour heard two elk whistling ahead of us. 

 The woods were open, and quite free from 

 undergrowth, and we were able to advance 

 noiselessly ; there was no wind, for the 

 weather was still, clear, and cold. Both of 

 the elk were evidently very much excited, an- 

 swering each other continually ; they had 

 probably been master bulls, but had become 

 so exhausted that their rivals had driven them 

 from the herds, forcing them to remain in se- 



