The Elk of the Pacific Coast 175 



noise if not too close. I have known the wildest 

 Virginia deer lie all day within plain sound of 

 the axe, and where the choice vocabulary of the 

 teamsters in the pinery could be plainly heard in 

 the clear cold air. Yet by no amount of inge- 

 nuity could one get within rifle shot unless the 

 combination of softness in the snow, openings 

 in the brush for quiet walking, rolling ground 

 behind which to keep out of sight, with the wind 

 and other conditions all right, conspired to help 

 out the most extreme care of which man is 

 capable. So I have known the mule-deer time 

 and again spend the day on the hillside, where 

 he can plainly hear the hunter calling up his 

 dogs, and discussing with his companions the 

 chances of getting venison. And generally the 

 chances are rarely worse than on just such 

 ground. The deer seems to love to take 

 chances on such matters, and knows so well 

 the distance of sounds that he is rarely 

 deceived in that way. For the report of a 

 rifle a little too far to be dangerous he cares 

 no more than for distant thunder, trusting to 

 his judgment to avoid any possible interview 

 with the owner of it. 



But the elk will have none of this intellectual 

 treat. Though he may act the fool worse than 

 any of the deer tribe when hit with a bullet or 

 when shot at close by, the sound of shooting 



