140 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



who shall say? and so eventually perish in the North 

 Sea. 



H. H. and I went up to Aasen Farm to open the 

 elk season a few days before A. H. appeared upon the 

 scene, but at first we were not fortunate enough to 

 see any bulls big enough to shoot. 



The southern march of the forest was defined by 

 a steep- sided, thickly -wooded valley or canon, im- 

 passable in places, and on the further side of which, 

 off our ground, news was brought that a good bull 

 had been seen. 



The Gula farmers are thoroughly respectable and 

 law-abiding folk ; and when our guileless hunting staff 

 assured us that, although we might not go beyond the 

 march ourselves with the rifle, it was quite etiquette 

 for them to go there, and so, perhaps, to drive the 

 reported bull over the boundary into our own ground, 

 we did not dispute the point. As a matter of fact, 

 the ground in question was common land, where no 

 farmer in particular had shooting rights. 



The first day out H. H. and I went our separate ways 

 in our own forest, but saw only cow elk. The simple 

 Hans Aasen was deputed to search the country beyond 

 the canon, and put the wandering bull across to us. 



The only party to the proposed transaction who 

 did not see the matter in its proper light was the bull 

 himself. He was there, of course. Hans found him 

 without difficulty, achieved an artistic stalk, and 

 watched him, as he lay in the forest, a fine beast 

 with a good head, chewing the cud within easy range. 

 When finally disturbed, instead of coming to our 

 ground he went over the open fjeld, as we after- 

 wards ascertained, and away to distant valleys far 

 from our ken. 



