256 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



troops of Indian warriors career along on their flying 

 steeds, shouting their battlecry; then a muttered waihng 

 of departed spirits comes faintly up — a rattling peal of 

 thunder — and all is still again. 



I parted with my host with regret; at leaving 

 he gave me some gloves and a collar of buckskin, 

 most beautifully cured, and as white as snow. When 

 I got to 'Frisco, I sent him a lot of books, and odds 

 and ends, but I never heard if he ever got them. 

 I took home with me two of the elks' heads ; one I gave 

 away, the other (the one I shot in the valley) is over my 

 looking-glass in my snuggery. When I smoke a pipe 

 before bedtime, and look at that head and think over 

 my old Oregon days, however happy and contented I 

 may be, I can never help anathematizing that " white 

 elk of Astoria.'' 



