112 SHORT STALKS 



seemed to get to close quarters, and lie was probably again 

 jumped without my knowing it. 



Early were we in the saddle next morning. As the 

 particular kind of dry stalk available for whistles was not 

 always to hand, I borrowed a tiny tin whistle from one of 

 the men. Eidino- out for an hour or so, we tethered the 

 horses and climbed to the top of a ridge which commanded 

 the basin from another point. Our puny note, favoured 

 by the stillness, was carried far over the tree-tops. In- 

 stantly came back the deep-chested challenge, mufHed by 

 the trees, l)ut loudly and confidently expressed, as though 

 he had no doubt at all about this strange thin -voiced rival. 

 A minute or two later it sounded again, and then again, 

 each time nearer. Evidently he was coming rapidly in 

 our direction. The timber below our perch was dense. It 

 is always difficult to look down into a wood, and clear 

 patches were rare, Ijcsides which he now ceased to answer. 

 It seemed that he could not get up to us, for our ridge fell 

 away in a steep cliff on that side. Clearly, the only chance 

 was to go down and find him. Dick said I couldn't get 

 down, but I was in no mood to stick at trifles. Leaving 

 him there, with instructions to whistle cautiously at inter- 

 vals, I started, and, with the help of a projecting tree or 

 two, was soon at the bottom. Pushing through the thicket 

 to the nearest open patch, I instantly saw what was up. 

 Three hundred vards oft' the ridoe was broken down into 

 a slope. My elk had made for this to get at his imagin- 

 ary rival, and there he was, still accomjDanied by his single 

 faithful hind, laboriously making his way up it. No 

 wonder he had not answered, he was too blown to do it, 

 and he was reserving himself for the encounter. He was 



