ELK HUNTING. 



A. M. STROPE. 



Never do I expect to have another hunt 

 with so much sport mingled with such hard 

 work, as on a trip to the North Platte, in 

 Wyoming, several years ago. It was the 

 custom then for the settlers to lay in a sup- 

 ply of winter's meat while the game was 

 fat. A large amount of game was often 

 killed, but of the elk gotten on the trip I 

 am going to tell of, not a pound was 

 wasted. It was distributed among several 

 families, for their winter supply. 



It was in December when we started, 

 from North Park, to drive down the North 

 Platte river, about 20 miles, for a 2 weeks' 

 hunt. We had a 4-horse wagon, besides 

 saddle-horses. The next morning we sad- 

 dled the horses for a trip over the hills, to 

 see what the chances were for game. 



Cross, one of my companions, carried a 

 45-70 Winchester; Davis had a 40-90 sin- 

 gle-shot; while I put my faith in a 45-70 

 Marlin, all good killers for big game. 



We rode through deep snow until past 

 noon, without seeing either elk or fresh 

 sign. As it was cold and had begun to 

 snow, a fire was built; for we wanted the 

 warmth, and our horses needed a rest. A 

 saddle-horse cannot be put to harder work 

 than to hunt elk in deep snow, in a tim- 

 bered country. 



How easy it is to get lost, on a stormy 

 day, may be illustrated by our experience. 

 As we sat around the fire, Davis chanced 

 to point out the direction of camp. 



"No," said Cross, "that isn't right; it 

 lies off there," pointing in the opposite di- 

 rection. 



" Not much," said I. " You are both 

 rattled," and I gave them my idea of the 

 direction of the place where we hoped to 

 dine. Now the question arose as to how 

 to decide. My companions did not feel 

 positive, so they left it to me, saying I 

 would be held responsible for loss of sup- 

 per and bed. As it proved, I was right. I 

 had kept track of the quarter from which 

 the wind came. 



The second morning we headed up a 

 draw that appeared to lead to some bare 

 ridges and hills, where we thought there 

 might be elk. I was in the lead, following 

 an old trail, but fresh snow, had fallen. 



Suddenly my horse dropped down, over 

 his back, into water. He had walked into 

 a bog, covered with moss and weeds which 

 held up the snow. 



A man never stood up in his saddle and 

 sprang to solid ground quicker than I did. 

 The only wetting I got was one boot full 

 of water. Two of us got the horse by the 

 tail, and with the other man at the rope, we 

 •managed to get him out. 



After cleaning the slush and mud off the 



horse, we went on up the draw. Two ani- 

 mals were soon sighted, in a draw that 

 branched from ours. To approach them 

 we went farther up, then turned to the 

 right to a point we judged nearly opposite 

 the game, then climbed the intervening 

 ridge, leaving the horses at its foot. 



We had calculated rightly, for just across 

 the draw, in the edge of some green tim- 

 ber, about 400 yards distant, were 3 bull 

 elk; 2 standing, the other lying down. 

 There was no chance to get closer, so we 

 raised the sights and fired. Davis took the 

 elk lying down, and killed it instantly. 



At the crack of the rifles, the others came 

 toward us, into the draw. We opened a 

 vigorous fire, but the 2 bulls kept trotting 

 on down the gulch. As they rounded a 

 point, out of sight, I arose and made a 

 dash, expecting to head them off. Luck 

 was against me, for I had not gone 10 steps 

 when my foot caught under a root and I 

 went sprawling into a snow-drift. 



By the time I had gathered myself up, 

 cleared the snow from my eyes and ears, 

 and found the rifle, the elk were leisurely 

 climbing a ridge, out of range. Not until 

 then was it noticed that our sights were 

 still at the 400-yard notch. As the bulls 

 had come closer, and were below us, we 

 had overshot them. 



Bringing up the horses, a rope was tied 

 to the elk's neck — after dressing him— a 

 a hitch taken to a saddle-horn, and we set 

 out for camp. It was hard work, through 

 the deep snow. Horses and hunters were 

 pretty well tired out that night. 



Making an early start, we had not gone 

 more than 2 miles, the morning of the third 

 day, when a bunch of elk were sighted. 

 They were a mile away, and there were 

 probably 50 in the herd. The ground was 

 favorable for stalking. 



Davis and I approached from one side, 

 while Cross worked around opposite. 

 When we were within range, Cross had 

 not come up, so we took a shot. Davis 

 downed a cow, but I missed a big bull, 

 standing broadside, not 8 rods away. 



The bunch ran up the ridge, about a 

 quarter of a mile, and turned into a deep 

 gulch, where there was thick timber. Here 

 we found them, and when we opened fire, 

 instead of making off in a body, they scat- 

 tered through among the trees. Leaving 

 the horses, we wallowed on through 3 feet 

 of snow. Getting within range of the elk 

 again, I downed 3 inside of 15 minutes. 

 Cross had now come up, and he and Davis 

 killed as many more. Instead of following 

 the bunch farther, we all set about dress- 

 ing the elk we had down, leaving them in 

 good shape to freeze. 



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