WOMEN IN CAMP. 



45* 



ers came up with half a dozen elk. The 

 guide at once gave his directions: " Hen- 

 ton will stay near me," he said, " while you 

 2 must go over on that side-hill to head 

 them if they make off in your direction." 



The elk saw their pursuers and changed 

 their route. Although the animals went 

 somewhat faster than usual, the hunters 

 kept close to them, but not close enough to 

 shoot. At last they were turned up a nar- 

 row gulch, offering a shot to M . He 



fired, hitting a bull and knocking him 

 down. However, a wounded elk is not a 

 dead one, and he was on his feet in a mo- 

 ment, making better time than before. He 



turned broadside on the hill, and M got 



a second shot, but missed. 



" I'll get him," he declared. " if it takes 

 till Christmas." He got within shooting 

 distance once more, and again fired. 



" You've got him; give it to him again," 

 shouted his companion, in excitement. 

 There was no need of it, for the last shot 

 had settled the elk. The rest of the herd 

 made their escape. 



The hunters returned to camp in high 

 spirits, only to find the women had flown. 

 The husbands were wild and wanted to do 

 all sorts of unnecessary things. The guide 

 tried to quiet them by saying he would 

 soon bring the truants back. 



After bidding them good-by in the morn- 

 ing, we decided to have a little hunt of our 

 own. We took the trail, turned up the 

 first gulch we came to, then rode on and on 

 for an hour or more, when we dismounted 

 and ate our luncheon at a stream. Here we 

 saw deer sign, and determined to foliow 

 them. One trail led into another until the 

 day was far gone. We then tried to locate 

 camp, asking all the saints to help us. 

 Finally we determined to climb a hill, but 

 as it was too steep to ride, we tied our 

 horses and went up on foot. When we de- 

 scended, more disheartened than ever, we 

 saw that we had taken a different route, 

 and could not find the horses. 



While we were deliberating what to do, 



our dog Hushed 3 grouse, all of which we 

 secured. " This don't look so bad, after 

 all," said my companion in misery, trying 

 to infuse a little courage into me. " I have 

 some salt, matches, and a piece of candle. 

 The guide told us, you know, never to leave 

 camp without them." 



It was soon dark, and we decided to re- 

 main just where we were, occasionally fir- 

 ing a signal. We built a big fire and sat 

 down to pluck and cook the grouse. 



I took my revolver and fired, 1, 2, 3. 

 Oh, joy! there was an answer. 



We spoke in low tones, from fear, I sup- 

 pose. Soon we fired another signal and a 

 second. Each time the answer drew nearer. 

 The fire was dying out, and it was growing 

 chilly. We had no hatchet and the little 

 brush we gathered before night was al- 

 most gone. To add to our misery we had 

 fired too often. Only one cartridge re- 

 mained. 



What should we do, fire the last cart- 

 ridge? Yes, we decide to let it go. It was 

 fired, and I pressed the trigger hard, to 

 make it sound louder. 



The answer was very near this time. I 

 put my hand to my mouth and gave a call. 

 This was also answered. A rush of horses 

 through the bushes, and we were found. 



"Where are the horses?" was the first 

 question, quickly followed by a dozen 

 others. 



I need not describe the ride to camp. I 

 do not remember much of what occurred; 

 but I do know we were received with joy 

 and thanksgiving. The guide had followed 

 our signal from the first, on a straight line; 

 but we were a long distance from camp, 

 and the night was dark. The ground, too, 

 was rough. Our horses had broken loose 

 and gone to camp, arriving some time be- 

 fore us. 



We reached. Leadville a few days later, 

 October 11, after an absence of nearly 3 

 months. So ended our long, enjoyable, and 

 to us, eventful vacation in the mountains 

 of Colorado. 



AN ANGLER'S DESIRE. 



A. WARBURTOX. 



A brook in spring, flush, sweet and cool 



A cloudy day, a crystal pool, 



A rod, a line, a leader fine. 



A dozen flies and joy is mine. 



But one thing more — I hate to ask it. 



For I may never need — a basket! 



