166 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



nature of the whole incident became fully apparent 

 to my mind ; for there, 100 yards beyond the ridge, 

 in the valley below, lay my friend the bull elk, stone- 

 dead in his tracks, with a bullet through the heart. I 

 never fired a luckier shot. ' I reckon that bull's time 

 had come, any way/ said Frank. 



And so we took the tea and the recollection of a 

 fortunate hunting episode back to camp ; and next 

 day brought the head in, one of the finest in my 

 collection. 



But it was not always thus. Fate occasionally 

 was much more ' contrairy.' It was on one of these 

 unlucky days that I rode out alone, on another occa- 

 sion, to look at some coyote traps we had set at the 

 carcass of an elk. The locality was among some 

 open glades or parks on the summit of the range, 

 surrounded by thick belts of green forest, an ideal 

 place for game. On coming to the edge of the 

 particular park where the trap had been set, I saw 

 a coyote tearing at the meat. He had apparently 

 sprung the traps without getting caught. Leaving 

 my horse in the trees, I crept up within shot. Just 

 as I was pulling the trigger, the wolf, either hearing 

 or winding me, galloped off. A hasty double shot 

 as he ran away broke his hind-leg, and without 

 waiting to reload I ran forward on foot, thinking to 

 finish him with my revolver. Then, as I ran into 

 the open, I became aware of a magnificent old bull 

 elk, one of the finest I have ever seen, trotting 

 majestically out of the pine-grove on my right. He 

 crossed the open park in front of me within easy 

 range, making for the thick forest beyond, not 

 100 yards away. Oh, supreme mischance that I had 

 neglected to load my rifle ! His appearance was as 



