270 THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 
I expected to see it fall, but it finally went out of sight, over on the 
other side of the ridge and that was the last I saw of Mr. Elk. My 
friend and I hiked over to the spot where I had last seen him, but he 
had gone down in a canyon. I started down after him, and right there 
my friend had a bad case of stage fright and swore he was going home 
and if I wasn’t figuring on walking that I had better come along. I 
asked him to wait a few minutes until I ran down to the bottom to see 
if I could find my elk, but my minutes were a little long, and when I 
could not find the elk I thought I would get my friend to help me and 
so climbed to the top of the hill again to where I had left him, and lo! 
and behold! he was gone. I was interested in the elk, so went back 
down in the canyon alone and looked around for about an hour, then 
when I still could not find him I became the least bit anxious about 
the remark my friend had made about going home and so I started back 
to camp just as fast as I could go. 
As I came in sight of camp my friend was all hitched up, had the 
things all packed and was only waiting to see if I were coming or not. 
I tried to reason with him, but he was obdurate and so as the outfit 
belonged to him and we were 75 miles from home, the walking did not 
look very good to me, and therefore I climbed in the wagon, as there 
seemed nothing else to do, but leaving behind one of the biggest elk I 
had ever seen. I decided that as soon as I got home I would get my 
uncle and come right back and see if I could find it, for the horns. 
I did this, and when we got back we met a trapper who had found 
him the next day after I had shot him, and who had taken the horns. 
This was my first experience in hunting in Oregon and I was greatly 
disappointed in not finding my elk the day I shot him. If I could have 
been sure of finding him, and had I had a man with me with any grit 
we would have had that buck, but as it was I did not even get the 
horns. Although I rather blamed my friend at first, I afterwards 
learned that it was his first trip also, so one can see that he could not 
be blamed so very much. 
MULTNOMAH ANGLERS’ CLUB GOES ON 
RECORD 
From American Field. 
The Multnomah Anglers’ Club went on record at its last meeting 
as being in favor of cutting the one day’s limit on trout from seventy- 
five to thirty-five. Notwithstanding the fact that more trout are being 
planted every season, lovers of trout fishing see that the sport is grad- 
ually declining, owing to the fact of the limit being so large and to the 
numerous power plants erected which kill the fish. The two power 
plants on the Clackamas River, one at River Mill and the other at 
Cazadero, slaughter many trout. Power plants also cause the rivers to 
raise and lower very suddenly because at different times of the day 
they use more water. Many small trout are left stranded on the banks, 
where they die. Through the club’s president, Dr. Earl C. McFarland, 
steps will be taken to have the matter brought up at the next meeting 
of the Oregon Sportsmen’s League, to be held in Portland in December. 
Should this powerful organization view the subject in the same light, 
there should be no trouble in introducing and passing a bill which will 
prevent the depletion of the trout in the future.—Highlander. 
