THE LAST HUNT. 295 



mals were now between two ridges, moving slowly. 

 If the hunters could get ahead of the band they could 

 examine the elk at their leisure and see if the one 

 they wanted was in the herd. If there was a bull 

 larger than the one killed by Dyche, he wanted it to 

 lead the World's Fm'r group. If not, the naturalist 

 preferred that none be killed, for he had a sufficient 

 number of specimens of all other kinds. 



After losing much time in following out Jim's 

 vagaries they reached the spot where Dyche desired to 

 go at the beginning of the stalk, but they had been 

 so long on the way that the animals were there 

 ahead of them and were passing into the ravine. 

 As the hunters crawled through the underbrush, 

 their ears were assailed by a queer combination of 

 grunting and squealing, made by the elk as they 

 fed along through the park. Now and then a bull 

 raised his head and gave his bugle-call, and the 

 response came from the far side of the band. 

 The hunters at last reached a point about a hundred 

 yards from the game, but the trees and brush were so 

 intertwined that it was impossible to see beyond 

 them. Occasionally a head or a portion of the body 

 of an elk came into view, but it was evident that 

 the men must get closer if they wished to see the 

 entire band. Slipping off their shoes and jackets they 

 crawled slowly forwards for about fifteen yards. Sud- 

 denly Jim jumped to the top of a log which barred 

 the way and was in full view of the band of elk. 



About fifty cows and calves were feeding directly 

 towards him, and as he appeared on the log the 



animals started on the run, frightening the others as 

 20 



