226 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



whispering frantically, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" 



Of course I knew it was a long chance, for the bullet 

 almost certainly would have been deflected by the twigs, 

 but those splendid antlers seemed very near and very, 

 very desirable. I lowered my rifle reluctantly, and the 

 bull disappeared over the hill crest whence the cows had 

 gone. 



"They'll stop in the next ravine," said the hunter, 

 but when we cautiously peered over the ridge the ani- 

 mals were not there nor were they in the next. At 

 last we found their trail leading into the grassy uplands ; 

 but the possibility of finding wapiti, these animals of 

 the forests, on those treeless slopes seemed too absurd 

 even to consider. Yet, the old Mongol kept straight 

 on across the rolling meadow. 



Suddenly, off at the right, Harry's rifle banged three 

 times in quick succession then an interval, and two 

 more shots. Ten seconds later three wapiti cows 

 showed black against the sky line. They were coming 

 fast and straight toward us. We flattened ourselves 

 in the grass, lying as motionless as two gray bowlders, 

 and a moment later another wapiti appeared behind 

 the cows. As the sun glistened on his branching ant- 

 lers there was no doubt that he was a bull, and a big 

 one, too. 



The cows were headed to pass about two hundred 

 yards above us and behind the hill crest. I could eas- 

 ily have reached the summit where they would have 

 been at my mercy, but lower down the big bull also was 

 coming, and the hunter would not let me move. "Wait, 



