AFTER BIG-GAME IN WYOMING 203 



times or more I was on the point of shooting, when 

 some antic on his part would spoil the opportunity 

 for a fair shoulder- shot. At length the trigger was 

 pressed. At the same instant he moved again, for- 

 tunately towards the bullet, which luckily broke his 

 neck instead of piercing the heart, as intended. He 

 fell stone-dead in his tracks. 



By the time we had taken the skin the day was 

 getting on. We made for camp, some miles distant, 

 and on the way there spied yet another bear, this 

 time a female with three cubs, feeding nearly a mile 

 away, and in the wrong direction for home. 



The result of a council of war with Bob was that 

 we left them severely alone and proceeded on to 

 camp. I can confidently state that this was the only 

 occasion, in my recollection, when I have turned 

 away from a possible bear-hunt. The argument that 

 prevailed was this : Before we could approach, kill, 

 and skin the four bears it would be dark. This 

 would probably mean, in the rough country we were 

 in, a night in the open, while to kill four bears and 

 not take their skins was out of the question. There- 

 fore I take credit for the fact that we returned 

 content with the four skins already obtained, and 

 sternly turned our backs on the live bears then in 

 sight. 



One day I was fortunate enough to secure four old 

 ram sheep of the largest size, and during the process 

 of stalking and shooting them ran against almost 

 every variety of Rocky Mountain fauna. I was out 

 with our chief guide, Jack, and early in the day we had 

 spied with our glasses a band of rams on a rocky hill 

 about a mile distant. Riding through some scattered 

 timber towards the foot of this hill, we disturbed in 



