212 A SPRING AND SUMMER IN LAPLAND. 



ably reading an old number of the Field which 

 I happened to have in my pocket (for I always 

 like if possible to have something readable with 

 me whenever I leave home), when suddenly I 

 heard such a crashing and rolling of loose stones 

 down the mountain side in front of me that I 

 fancied a whole mob of elk must be coming right 

 down upon me. The pipe was soon out of my 

 mouth, and the paper in my pocket, and with my 

 gun cocked I peered anxiously through my leafy 

 bower up the hill in front of me. But my sus- 

 pense was short, for right opposite to me I saw 

 an immense old cow elk and calf come trotting 

 down the hill with as much ease and action as a 

 high-stepping cab horse over the London stones. 

 The loose stones flew in all directions, but neither 

 stopped to look back till they reached the bottom, 

 when they both pulled up, appeared to listen for 

 the distant beaters, and then commenced walking 

 leisurely across the swamp right up to me. To 

 say that I was not nervous would be to tell an 

 untruth, for depend upon it, let the man be who 

 he may, if he has but one ounce of flurry in his 

 composition, such a moment will bring it out. 

 Here I had them all to myself, and if I made a 

 lucky double- shot I should be by long chalks the 

 king of the day. Thus whispered ambition. But 

 then prudence, or perhaps cowardice, stept in. I 



