134 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



One morning, in company with Peder and Johan, I 

 found an exceptionally large bull-track, absolutely 

 fresh, not two miles from the house, and thought our 

 chance had come. A more restless, wandering brute 

 I never followed. He was just in front of us, ap- 

 parently, for many hours. His track, going at a walk, 

 looked in the newly-fallen snow as fresh as our own ; 

 but we were not destined that day to catch a glimpse 

 of him, even for a moment. In vain we tracked him 

 for hours with the dog up hill and down dale, through 

 gloomy forest recesses and open glades, over and round 

 the sides of a steep and thickly-wooded mountain. The 

 phantom monster never showed. At length, in despe- 

 ration, a new move was tried. Peder's handsome, head- 

 strong collie, who had been in a fever of excitement 

 all the day, was slipped, in the hope that he might 

 bring the bull to bay. Within 200 yards we heard a 

 welcome barking up a steep hill, of course and 

 nearly broke a bloodvessel trying to get there in 

 record time, only to find the tracks of bull and dog 

 making a bee-line over the ridge and down the farther 

 side. The barks died away in the distance obviously, 

 this particular bull did not bay worth a cent and pre- 

 sently the dog returned, exhausted, with wagging tail, 

 tired of the pursuit. We followed the track for a 

 mile or two, and found that the elk, this time at a 

 steady fifteen-mile-an-hour trot, had left for distant 

 parts, evidently disgusted with our proceedings. I 

 have often wondered how much that bull knew of our 

 pursuit of him up to the unlucky moment when we 

 slipped the dog. He was obviously a big brute, from 

 his track. 



Next day A. H. and Ivor had a somewhat similar 

 experience. They disturbed their bull lying down in 



