Volume IX. 



RECREATION. 



OCTOBER, 1898. 



G. 0. SHIELDS (COQUINA), Editor and Manager. 



Number 4. 



A MUTUAL SURPRISE. 



GEO. W. REA. 



Thirty-five years of my life have 

 been spent in the Rocky mountains. 

 By turns I have been hunter, miner, 

 ranchman and guide. For the last 25 

 years I have lived on my ranch 

 in Shotgun valley, midway between 

 Beaver canyon and the Yellowstone 

 park. In all those years I do not rec- 

 ollect having bought more than one 

 quarter of beef; yet I have never 

 lacked meat, and all I used was ob- 

 tained with my rifle or shotgun. In 

 the many hunts undertaken to supply 

 my table with game I have, of course, 

 met with some curious experiences. 

 One of these occurred last winter. 



On the morning of November 6th 

 I awoke to find clear, cold weather 

 following the cessation of the snow 

 storm which had raged through the 

 night. From the amount of snow in 

 the valley I judged its depth would be 

 about a foot on the hills. One could 

 not ask for better hunting weather. 

 Besides, the meat supply in the larder 

 was running low, and I felt it would 

 be improvident to buy any before my 

 silver mine was opened and a free 

 coinage law passed. I mounted my 

 favorite hunting horse and started, in- 

 tending to cross the State line, which 

 follows the crest of the continental di- 

 vide within 2 hours' ride of my place. 

 The storm of the previous night had 

 hindered the usual movement of game 

 and I rode through open parks and 

 over timbered ridges until nearly noon 

 without seeing a track. 



In passing near a jack pine thicket 



I heard a great crackling in the brush, 

 and above the cover saw the antlers 

 of a large bull elk. Peering more 

 closely, I could make out a small por- 

 tion of his body, not larger than my 

 hand would cover. I knew my only 

 chance was to send a bullet into that 

 spot. I fired from the saddle. At the 

 crack of the gun the elk rushed away 

 through the brush. I rode to the other 

 side, where he left the thicket, and 

 found I had broken his shoulder. He 

 bled but little. After traveling half a 

 mile he lay down, but got up and went 

 on before I reached him. I followed 

 all the afternoon until dark without 

 getting sight of him. He made as 

 many as 50 beds during that time. A 

 more cunning elk I never trailed. He 

 would invariably lie down behind 

 some thicket where he could hear my 

 approach, and be gone before I could 

 see him. 



When night came I tied my horse 

 to a tree. I had brought some grain 

 for him, but no supper for myself. I 

 found a place where 2 large dry fir trees 

 had fallen, one across the other, mak- 

 ing a fine place for a fire, though ex- 

 posed to the wind if it should blow. 

 There I passed the night comfortably 

 until just before daylight, when a cold 

 wind began blowing from the North. 

 I saddled my horse and sought shelter 

 in a thicket of black pine. Dry wood 

 was scarce, but I managed to build a 

 small fire and thaw the ice from my 

 45-90 Winchester — the finest hunting 

 gun ever invented. 



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