AFTER BIG-GAME IN WYOMING 219 



We were camped my friend and I during the 

 sunny, chilly Indian summer of Wyoming, at the 

 foot of a mountain range then full of deer, elk, etc., 

 now a vast summer stock range. At night, through 

 the pine- woods, the whistling of rival bulls was at 

 that time a familiar sound. One day Bob Snell and 

 I were bent on exploring a certain hill where, the 

 day before, a particularly hoarse note had betokened 

 the presence of an old bull. Presently we came to 

 some very fresh tracks of a large herd of elk. The 

 whole forest seemed to smell of them. ' I think we'll 

 leave our horses, Bob,' said I. Bob agreed. We 

 advanced cautiously on foot, and soon came in sight 

 of some cow elk feeding. A patient examination of 

 the thick forest through my binoculars gradually 

 revealed a good- sized herd here a cow lying down, 



there another, onlv the head and ears visible and 



/ 



every now and then one or two would feed into and 

 again out of sight. There must be a good bull 

 somewhere in charge, we knew, if we could only 

 ascertain on which side of the herd he stood or lay. 

 Suddenly a hoarse challenge on the far side of the 

 cows rang out, higher up the hill, and yet again from 

 one spot. Bob and I exchanged a triumphant glance. 

 ' He sounds his own death-knell,' thought I, as my 

 companion whispered : c That's a big bull, and he's 

 lyin' down, I reckon, t'other side of the herd.' 



We carefully retreated, and made a long detour, 

 with a favourable wind, in order to approach the side 

 where the bull lay. To stalk in thick timber up to 

 a bull through a herd of cows was an impossible task. 

 The country was rough and broken, fallen timber lay 

 here and there ; our progress was necessarily slow, 

 but an hour later found us on the far side of where 



