MY FIRST TRIP TO THE ROCKIES 161 



out for a mile or more along the mountain ridges. 

 Occasionally the forest would literally smell of them. 

 The difficulty in those days was not so much to find 

 elk of sorts, but to come across the old master bull or 

 patriarch, whose splendid antlers were the coveted 

 trophy. As a matter of fact, the large herds of cows 

 and calves frequently proved a nuisance, occasionally 

 preventing us from finding or getting a sight of the 

 big bulls we were after. Later on in the season, when 

 ' whistling ' time had begun, and the master bulls 

 were running with the herds, and making the welkin 

 ring and resound with their whistling roars, the task 

 was easier. I give some of my experiences of 

 autumn hunting later in these pages. Meantime we 

 had to do plenty of riding through wooded mountain 

 valleys and glens for the monarchs that we sought, 

 and very often came upon them by the purest chance, 

 and in the luckiest way imaginable. The size of the 

 country, and its altitude, some 7,000 feet above the 

 sea, rendered stalking on foot a laborious and generally 

 unprofitable exercise until the game was actually 

 sighted. Experience of this western country has 

 always prompted me to sympathize with the pro- 

 verbial westerner who would always walk 100 yards 

 to the stable to saddle a horse in order to ride across 

 the street. I know no more helpless feeling than to 

 be left afoot some miles from a western camp. 

 Man then realizes what a miserable crawling biped he 

 is, and what an enormous advantage it is to have four 

 sinewy legs beneath him for locomotive purposes. 



We once had occasion to dismiss at short notice 

 from our service the ' boy ' who had been engaged 

 to do our cooking on a hunting-trip. This was in 

 later years. His views on the free consumption of 



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