AFTER BIG-GAME IN WYOMING 225 



far in the rear a splendid pair of antlers showed the 

 presence of the monarch of the glen. Which trail 

 will they take ? The leading animal, a ragged-looking 

 old cow elk, came to the parting of the trails a quarter 

 of a mile below, hesitated, took the left hand, and 

 sealed the doom of her lord and master. It was an 

 interesting and exciting moment. Crouched in a 

 hush, not stirring a muscle, I watched the whole herd 

 trot silently by. Last of all came my old friend, who 

 had been bellowing a melodious chorus at his rivals 

 for the last two hours. A low whistle, and he stops, 

 broadside on, 60 yards away, when following the 

 crack of the rifle came the dull thud of bullet on 

 living hide, ' dear to the sportsman's ear as the voice 

 of her he loves.' It was an easy chance and a clean 

 kill, and after plunging a few yards headlong down 

 the steep hillside, over rolled the old bull wapiti, 

 stone-dead. 



So concluded that particular successful day's sport 

 in the Wild West, and long after dark that night we 

 got back to camp, tired but content, with the hide, 

 head, and horns of our wapiti strapped on one of our 

 horses. Next morning I turned my back for many a 

 long day on the land of the buffalo and the elk. 



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