274 THE DEER OF AMERICA. 
he says: “The pace of the Caribou when started is like that 
of the Moose, —a long steady trot, breaking into a brisk walk, 
at intervals, as the point of alarm is left behind. He some- 
times gallops, or rather bounds for a short distance at first. 
This the Moose never does.” 
The paces of the Wapiti Deer are, the walk, the trot, and the 
gallop, or run. When moving voluntarily, not hastened by any 
sense of alarm, his pace is always a walk. This may be very 
rapid if bent on changing his feeding grounds to a distant region. 
This is always done in the night, and even when feeding by the 
way he frequently will cover an immense distance in a single 
night. But he is a natural trotter. This is the gait which he 
always adopts when fleeing from danger, unless he is thrown off 
his feet, when he may break into a run; but this is so unnatural 
a gait for him that if he is fat it soon worries him and breaks 
him down. When the animal is lean, and so it is with the young 
animal, he is much more inclined to break his trot and adopt the 
running gait. He can run faster than he can trot, and if in con- 
dition to maintain that pace it increases his chances for escape, 
but when the fat buck is once forced into a run, he must soon 
come to bay. 
On this subject Colonel Dodge! says: ‘Singular as it may ap- 
pear, plains hunters are equally divided in opinion as to the gait 
of the Elk when going at his best speed. Some old hunters who 
have bagged their hundreds of Elk, stoutly maintain that the 
Elk only trots when at his best pace; while other equally good 
authorities insist that heruns like a deer. The truth is, both are 
somewhat right and both wrong. The Elk trots with great 
speed, and this seems to be his easiest and most natural gait. 
He can, however, and does run much faster than he can trot, but 
it is a great effort and soon tires him out.” 
In my grounds the Elk have learned to come to the call, though 
in the summer time, when the weather is warm and the pas- 
turage is abundant, the keeper may call till he is hoarse, before 
one will get up in the cool shade, but when the weather gets 
cooler, they will come towards him in a slow, lazy walk, but after 
the frost has come, and they have had a few tastes of maize (an 
old one will crunch an ear ten inches long, and an inch and a 
half in diameter, without making two bites of it), they answer 
with alacrity though half a mile away. The whole herd will 
start at first quite leisurely ; presently, one or two will strike a 
1 The Plains of the Greut West, p. 164. 
