180 SHORT STALKS 



bcayed again, a sliort distance beyond the spot where I had 

 viewed him, and it wouhl appear that lie coidd not have 

 noticed my shot. AYe approached at a run, and had got, 

 as I shoukl jndge l)y the sound of tlie baying, within a 

 Inindred yards, when I trod on a stick, which broke with a 

 loud crack. John looked round at me with a blank ex- 

 pression and said, " Now he will spring," and sure enough 

 the sound ceased, for when an elk is o-oino- his hardest the 

 dogs pursue in silence. Again we started at our best pace 

 in the direction which they had taken, and in a few 

 minutes a faint and distant bay drew us on again, but the 

 elk knew that the dosfs were not alone, and would not be 

 stopped. All this time my companion, who carried no 

 ounce of superfluous flesh, was going well within himself, 

 while I began to labour like a water-logged boat. I shall 

 not soon forget the suff'ering of the next forty minutes, but 

 I felt it was now or never, and, buoyed up at intervals by 

 the faint sound fjir ahead, I struggled on, now across oj^en 

 bogs which were soft but not springy, now through masses 

 of tangle and clumps of trees, till my feet were like lead, 

 and I was reduced at last to a walk. Now we find a harder 

 piece of ground, as welcome as water in the desert, and by 

 its help seem to get nearer to the retreating sound. But 

 we are again approaching the river, and I am almost 

 thankful when John says, " He will cross it again, and then 

 it is all up." He does cross it, and the dogs return to us. 

 We throw ourselves dow-n, on our backs, on the bilberries, 

 and gasp, while limbs stiff'en rapidly. At last John 

 remarks, " The Elcj is hxinh too ; " and indeed so ponder- 

 ous a body is not easily conveyed over several miles of 

 such ground, " Is it any good to cross the river again ? " 



