226 



RECREATION 



though pine wood was plentiful, we cut 

 a few armloads of sagebrush just to 

 flavor the smoke of our camp fire. 



About eight o'clock the fatigue of the 

 clay's pull up the mountain began to 

 make our eyes heavy, pipes were 

 knocked out and we rolled up in our 

 blankets and knew no more until day- 

 break, when, after a breakfast of ante- 

 lope steaks and coffee, we prepared for 

 the hunt. 



Jeff, owing to a lame limb, always 

 hunted near camp. Walker was a soli- 

 tary hunter and set off across the moun- 

 tain alone; I mounted a pony in the 

 hope of keeping up with Marshall, who 

 had kindly invited me to come with him 

 "if I could keep up." 



Strange to say, though I had never 

 seen a live elk, I was the first one of 

 our party to sight the game we wanted 

 most of any. There were four of them, 

 off about three miles against the snowy 

 peak of a mountain, and looking like 

 small specks, but I had seen them move, 

 and on using my field glasses I saw they 

 were watching us closely. I only had 

 time to point them out to Marshall when 

 they swung off around the mountain 

 peak and out of sight with their long 

 sweeping trot. We at once made for 

 the point where we had last seen them 

 and, as there was an excellent tracking 

 snow, we easily found and started on 

 the trail, which, had I imagined it was 

 one half so long, I would have given it 

 up at once. We followed that trail the 

 remainder of the day ; I had to give up 

 my pony in a very short time because 

 of the rough country over which it led. 

 That night, about ten o'clock, I 

 stumbled along after Marshall into 

 camp, too tired to think or help myself 

 to any supper, but thanks to Marshall's 

 tough muscles, we had good coffee and 

 supper. Next morning Marshall got 



me out early. I was so sore and stiff 

 that the least move was torture, but 

 after a snow bath and a good breakfast 

 I was able to light my pipe and hit the 

 trail. We found it again by back- 

 tracking ourselves, and then began our 

 long and seemingly endless, cautious 

 tramp, through the roughest country I 

 have ever travelled over. It seemed im- 

 possible that those elk, with such an 

 immense spread of horns could have 

 gone through those thickets, but there 

 was the trail. Along in the afternoon 

 I had to give it up, I was "all in." If 

 I had known how close we were on to 

 our game, I should have been in at the 

 death if I could only crawl. Marshall 

 had not left me a quarter of a mile be- 

 hind when his rifle spoke, and when I 

 managed to hobble over to him I found 

 him coolly smoking his pipe and looking 

 at a fine elk. He had come upon one 

 tremendous old bull lying down, with 

 the most magnificent horns. Nine 

 points they had, and we took off the 

 head and neck skin to the shoulders, 

 so it could be mounted. Our next 

 trouble was to get our kill to camp, 

 which was finally accomplished with 

 the aid of all hands and the saddle 

 ponies. 



Walker's kill that day was a fine 

 blacktail. Jeff and I were not able to 

 get a shot, but we had meat enough, 

 and, after taking it easy in camp a few 

 days, we hooked up and pulled down 

 to spend a day with Houch. It was 

 a lucky move for us, too, for a heavy 

 snow storm hung over the mountain 

 all the next day. We started home on 

 a bitter cold day and made good time, 

 reaching town two days after without 

 any incidents worth mentioning. A few 

 days later was Christmas, and we had 

 mince pies — one of the ingredients of 

 the mince meat was elk. 



