ON THE MAMMALIA OF THIS DISTRICT. 213 



had only two balls left, having fired one at the 

 caperealizie and three at the last bull, and no 

 weapon besides my gun save a butcher's common 

 case-knife. I well knew, from what I had read, 

 that a wounded elk was a roughish kind of play- 

 thing, and moreover — lies or no lies — I had not 

 quite forgotten the hairbreadth escapes, and other 

 little incidents attendant upon the chase of the 

 elk, which had been poured into my ear by the 

 foresters on the night previous. Moreover, all 

 the pines near me were branchless within twenty 

 feet of the ground ; it was impossible "to tree " 

 in case the wounded cow rushed at me. The 

 reader may possibly say, " What fear of an old 

 cow without horns ?" But gently ; it is not the 

 horns so much as the dreadful long fore-feet that 

 are the offensive weapons in the elk ; and as I look 

 on this very cow's hoofs, now dried and lying on 

 my table, I feel very little inclination to shake 

 hands with such a monster. However, they came 

 marching very leisurely across the swamp. I had 

 my gun at my shoulder, when I was rather puzzled 

 which to take first. The calf was probably the 

 easiest and surest shot ; but then I fancied if I 

 shot it down I stood a poor chance against the 

 infuriated mother, unless I luckily killed her dead 

 with one bullet, which was far from probable. I 

 thought it best, therefore, to fire first at the cow ; 



