420 



RECREATION. 



I had reached my vein of coal, but 

 my desire to see the elk was so great, 

 that leaving my pick and shovel, and 

 mounting my horse I started across the 

 country in a westerly direction toward 

 the Red Buttes on the Gros Ventre. I 

 had travelled some four or five miles, 

 when coming to the lower point of one 

 of the ridges, which overlooked Fish 

 creek, a tributary of the Gros Ventre, I 

 saw, on the little valleys on either side 

 of the stream, the biggest band of elk 

 in America. 



When I first came in sight of them 

 they were about two miles away, but by 

 retreating a short distance I came be- 

 hind another ridge which led down to 

 within half a mile of them. I took ad- 

 vantage of this cover, and by approach- 

 ing cautiously got very near them. I 

 tied my horse to a sage bush and crawled 

 to the crest of the ridge. 



Did you ever see a very large band 

 of elk ? Well I did, at this time. I had 

 often seen, in the neighborhood of Lara- 

 mie peak, what I then called large bands 

 of elk, but this one was as much larger 

 comparatively, as the herds of buffaloes 

 on the Arkansaw used to be larger than 

 are our little bands of bison up here in 

 the park. On either side of Fish creek 

 is a level valley about three-quarters of 

 a mile wide and about two miles long. 



This entire valley was covered with 

 elk, packed as closely together as elk 

 usually are in feeding. 



I watched them two hours perhaps, 

 then returned to camp. In a short time 

 Butler came in. He had killed a fine 

 fat cow from a band of 15. This made 

 all the meat we could pack over the 

 range, so we decided that we would all 

 go, on the following morning, to see the 

 big bunch. 



We saddled up early and started to 

 Fish creek. A brisk ride of about two 

 hours brought us to the hill I had been 

 on, the previous day, but our elk were 

 gone. This I expected, as I knew they 

 must keep moving to get feed. We 

 soon found they had gone to the north 

 and in the direction of the Elk Horn, as 

 we could plainly see their trails over the 

 hills for some miles. 



"Well," said Wiggins, "lam going 

 to see that band of elk, if I have to fol- 

 low them to the Buffalo Fork." 



All of our party being of the same 

 mind we mounted and followed them. 



We could now ride rapidly as we were 

 on a well beaten trail, and in about an 

 hour came up to them. They were on 

 the higher hills, some feeding, some 

 travelling and some lying down. They 

 discovered us before we did them, and 

 began to" move off ; and in about five 

 minutes it looked as if the hills for some 

 distance around had taken life and were 

 moving. 



The elk came together from either 

 side and in a short time were making a 

 solid trail about 50 yards wide. This 

 we followed with all the speed we could 

 get out of our horses, and soon came up 

 to within 200 yards of them. 



"Great Caesar," said Wiggins, u smell 

 that trail?" 



" I do," said Butler. " It smells like 

 a sheep corral." 



At this point the great living, mov- 

 ing mass of brown started across a 

 ridge, and we halted and dismount- 

 ed. The elk were now in plain 

 sight, and still in a dense body about 50 

 yards wide. We watched until the last 

 one disappeared over the hill. They 

 reminded us of water going over a fall. 



" Well," said Wiggins, " I have seen 

 the biggest band of elk in the world, 

 and am now satisfied to go back to 

 camp." 



"How many do you think are in the 

 band ?" I asked. 



" I should say anywhere from 3,000 

 to 5,000," said Wiggins. 



" Say there are 2,000," said I. 



" Oh, no," said he. " I have driven 

 3,000 beef steers in one herd, and they 

 did not make as big a trail as this by one 

 half." 



Perhaps Wiggins was right. I ap- 

 proximated the herd at 2,000, and they 

 were nearly all cows. 



We now returned to camp and on the 

 following morning began work on my 

 coal ; having completed which we 

 packed up and started on our return 

 trip. We picked up the first elk that 

 Butler and I had killed, and on the 5th 

 December recrossed the continental 

 divide. 



We arrived at our main camp, at 

 Dubois, on the 7th, and made a solemn 

 vow that should we ever return to the 

 Gros Ventre in the fall season, we 

 would be sure to take our camera along, 

 to photograph the biggest band of elk 

 on the continent. 



