MY FIRST TRIP TO THE ROCKIES 163 



in spite, with the sportsman or the object of his 

 pursuit ? 



I have sometimes spent days in riding through 

 rough woodland country without chance of a shot at 

 the kind of game I wanted, though game of the kind 

 I did not want were plentiful enough, and appeared 

 only too anxious to be shot at. 



I have spent hours at times, in the rutting season, 

 manoeuvring round a band of elk in thick green 

 timber, in the vain attempt to get a shot at the big 

 bull I could hear, but could not get a glimpse of ; until 

 at length, impatient, one would recklessly show one's 

 self to the herd, or they would get the wind, and 

 away would go 500 red-brown deer, cows and calves 

 calling and squealing, crashing and thundering through 

 the forest, and out of ken in a cloud of dust. At 

 other times I have got into game that I wanted with 

 the greatest ease, and in the most unexpected manner. 

 Some of my finest trophies of the chase have been 

 secured in this way, and at a time when I had thought 

 I was in for a blank day. 



One morning Frank Earnest and I rode over from 

 our Medicine Bow camp to a solitary ranch the other 

 side of the range to get some tea, a grocery of which 

 we had run short. For a few days previously I had 

 had no sport worth mentioning. Returning from the 

 ranch late in the afternoon of a fine August day, 

 we were riding round the base of a rocky hill, having 

 seen no sign of elk, when a low whistle from Frank 

 behind me attracted my attention. I glanced round, 

 and, following his eye and pointing finger, saw a 

 splendid pair of twelve-point fifty-eight inch antlers 

 just visible over the near skyline above me. A grand 

 old bull elk was lying on the hillside about 200 yards 



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