170 



RECREATION. 



and in their place I felt certain I had 

 seen his heels. I consoled Parker by 

 telling him I was sure he had killed 

 his game. 



We found the bull lying as nearly 

 on his back as it was possible for him 

 to lie, with 3 bullet holes through 



him, any one of which would have 

 killed him. 



Next day the meat was packed in. 

 We saved nearly all of it, Parker and 

 Paterson packing most of the first elk 

 on their backs down to where we 

 could reach it with the horses. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY R. H. BEEBE. 



YOUNG YELLOW WARBLERS. 

 One of the 18th Prize Winners in Recreation's 7th Annual Photo Competition. 



SONG OF THE HUNTER. 



F. D. A. 



Away to the hills and the wooded dell, 

 Where woodcock, grouse and squirrels 



dwell ; 

 To the haunts of the fox, who from his lair 

 Steals on the unsuspecting hare. 

 Where stately trees their shadows cast 

 On crystal stream that, rippling past, 

 Hides deep within its rushing tide, 

 The speckled trout, the sportsman's pride. 



WALKER. 



Away to the forest old and grand, 

 Where ancient oaks and maples stand, 

 On cragged steep and mountain drear, 

 Where lives in peace the timid deer. 

 O'er reedy marsh and quaking bog, 

 By quiet lake, with gun and dog, 

 To hunt the water fowls so shy, 

 That all your skill and patience try. 



Then come with me, bring dog and gun, 

 For the hunting time has now begun; 

 And when the morning's early light, 

 Steals through the darkness of the night, 

 We'll start for the hills and the wooded 



dell, 

 Where woodcock, grouse and squirrels 



dwell ; 

 To the haunts of the fox who from his 



lair, 

 Steals on the unsuspecting hare. 



