324 
— — -: -:- --"--v -: 
'the canyon of the Elwha rose Mount Olympus, the 
highest peak of the range, and next to it Mount Fitz- 
henry, nearly as high. On both were huge glaciers. On 
Mount Olympus Dewev pointed out one which he said 
was continually movit:£ downward, and the ice falling 
into the Hoh River which ran below it. The Hoh, the 
Soleduck and the Elwha all have their sources around the 
base of Mount Olympus. On Mount Fitzhenry there 
was a perfect Maltese cross of ice and snow, one arm 
of which joined a glacier. The weather was beautiful, 
the sun bright and the effect dazzling. We stood spell- 
bound, and when we moved on agreed that our climb 
had not been in vain, however our elk hunt might turn 
out. 
At last we reached the summit, and shortly after doing 
so passed a large bank of snow on the north side of 
the divide. Further on we found ourselves looking down 
into Happy Lake, which is very small, lies in a deep 
basm and is surrounded by thick brush, withroccasional 
open grassy spaces. We found our camp ground a little 
beyond the lake, on a level grassy spot about half way 
down the side of a deep canyon and close to a large run- 
ning spring of ice-cold water. 
We unpacked, pitched our tent, and while Dewey was 
cooking I took my rifle and went toward the lake to look 
for a deer. Dewey warned me not to go too far, or at 
least to keep good track of my bearings, lest I should 
be caught in one of the thick fogs which he said frequently 
came up from the straits in the evenings. I found a 
good many tracks near the lake, but saw no game. 
After awhile the fog put in an appearance/advancing like 
a solid white wall, but it did not reach us until about 
dark, and after I was back in camp. 
Next morning Dewey, who said there were no elk 
within several miles of our camp, and- probably not 
many nearer than the canyon of the Soleduck River, 
about six miles off, announced that he would go and 
try to locate a band, to which he would guide us next 
day. He said he might have to do a good deal of tramp- 
ing and climbing, and that there was no particular ob- 
ject in the doctor and myself going with him. He sug- 
gested that we could put in the day more pleasantly 
looking for deer near camp. We agreed to this, and he 
went off alone, and we made for the lake. We hunted 
separately around the sides of the basin, and saw noth- 
ing of each other until we returned to camp for dinner. 
The doctor reported that he had seen no game. I had 
got a glimpse of a doe or a spike buck, which had 
got out of sight in about two jumps, too quickly for me 
to shoot if I had been in a position to do so., which I was 
not, as when I saw it I was descending a steep incline 
and hanging on to bushes with one hand while I car- 
ried my rifle in the other. 
In the afternoon we tried it again. Neither of us saw 
anything until evening, when, as the doctor was heading 
toward camp, a fawn walked out in front of him, and, as 
we had no fresh meat, he killed it and dragged it in. 
When Dewey returned, he reported that he had seen 
no elk, but plenty of signs. He had not gone as far as 
the Soleduck, but proposed to do so next day, and that 
the doctor and I should again try for deer. We objected. 
We said that we had climbed the mountains for elk, not 
deer, and that we had venison enough for the camp. If 
we got an elk each, as we hoped we might, we would 
have our hands full packing them out, and we did not 
propose to kill deer and leave them to rot. There was 
nothing left for us but to hunt elk or to hang around 
camp, and we preferred to do the former, even though 
we might not find them. 
Accordingly, we all made for the elks' headquarters 
next morning. For about three miles we followed a trail 
which Dewey said ran to another camping place which he 
believed was occupied by an English sportsman and his 
guide who left Port Angeles for the mountains about a 
week before ourselves. Leaving the trail we went along 
the tsp of a divide. Here and there we saw below us 
open, grassy spaces. Dewey called them "pot holes," 
said we might see elk in some of them, and we kept our 
eyes open. About a mile from the trail the divide be- 
came rocky and its top narrow. As we were passing 
over some loose stones, which rattled under our hob- 
nailed boots.we looked down into a large pot hole on 
our left; Dewey stopped, crouched down, motioned to us 
to do the same, and said: "There's a bull elk." He 
and I got out our binoculars and then I saw, about 400 
or 500 yards away and 700 or 800 feet below us, a bull 
elk lying in the grass in an opening and near a brown 
patch which looked like a mud hole. Dewey discovered 
another bull near the first, and after we had all taken 
a look at the two we crept as noiselessly as possible over 
to the other side of the divide, so as to be out of sight 
of the elk, went back a short distance to where the trees 
were thicker below us and began a cautious descent. As 
we had got clear of the stones it was easier to avoid 
making much noise. We had previously learned from 
Dewey that at that season, the bulls kept together and 
separate from the cows and calves, which they joined a 
little later in the rutting season. On our way down We 
crossed a small stream of water which came from a spring 
on the slope and ran through a grassy opening which 
extended to where the elk lay. On reaching the level' 
ground we advanced slowly and cautiously, keeping close 
to the edge of the bush. Dewey leading. We went 
through a bunch of trees that extended out into the open 
space and saw, not more than fifty yards away, the two 
bull elk, still lying down. We paused a moment to ad- 
mire them, and then I whispered to the doctor, who was 
on my left: "You take the left hand one and I'll try for 
the other." He nodded, but just as we were raising our 
rifles the right-hand bull rolled over and lay flat on his 
side, so that I could see neither his head nor his neck. 
I whispered, "Wait till he lifts his head again." We 
waited, and when he again exposed his broadside, the 
doctor said, "Now!", 
We fired together, the elk jumped up, and before they 
had time to start, we fired again. Away they trotted, 
though, as we discovered afterward, both had been hit 
twice; neither showed any sign of it, as they would have 
done if they had been deer. Instead of running straight 
away, they crossed our front through the trees, but as 
the"se were somewhat scattered, we could keep them fairly 
well in sight. Three more bulls, which we had not seen, 
joined them in the trees. They headed for the nearest 
FOREST ANk STREAM. 
rise, passing withing thirty or forty yards of us, and the 
doctor and I each fired another shot. Both bulls dropped 
almost in line and quite near each other, about seventy- 
five yards from where they were first shot. Both had 
fine five-spike heads, and they weighed, according to 
Dewey, from 700 to 800 pounds each. 
As we stood admiring them the doctor, for the first 
time since we had seen them, remembered that he was 
packing a camera, and began to lament that he had not 
done so before we fired and taken a snap at them. Pos- 
sibly it would have disturbed them, but he doubted it, and 
we would have got them anyway. They were too easy 
to shoot and he felt as if we had taken an unfair ad- 
vantage of them. We might as well have sneaked into 
a barnyard and killed cattle as have shot them as we did. 
I agreed with him that they were much less wary than 
deer, and that perhaps we had not much to brag of; but, 
after all, we might have killed the whole five, and as we 
hadn't, we were not as bad as we might have been. 
Dewey consoled the doctor by saying that elk were not 
always easy to approach, that if we had blundered after 
we first sighted ours we wouldn't have got them, and that 
every hunter that saw elk at a distance, as we saw ours, 
did not succeed in getting within range of them. He 
thought that we had made a pretty good job of our little 
bit of still-hunting. Perhaps he was right, and as the 
doctor and I have had no previous experience with elk, 
we took his word for it. 
On examining the elk we -found that both had been hit 
three times in or behind the shoulders, In each case 
two bullets had lodged in one shoulder after passing 
through the other, and one which had entered through 
the ribs had made its exit through them on the opposite 
side. Honors were easy between the doctors Savage 
and my Winchester .30-40. Whether they would have 
stopped moose as quickly I cannot say, having never 
hunted moose, but a bull elk is a large animal, and I 
am inclined to think that the rifle that will stop the one 
will settle the other if it is held straight. This is my 
contribution to the controversy in Forest and Stream 
on large vs. small bores in hunting rifles. 
The doctor consoled himself as far as possible for his 
oversight in not photographing the elk while alive by 
taking a snap at the carcass of his bull with Dewey 
standing by its head, and getting Dewey to do likewise 
with mine. He first posed himself and me on either side 
of its head, I holding up the antlers to show them, as 
Dewey, in order to get the sun on his back, had to stand 
above us, the head lay down the slope and the carcass 
was too heavy to move. 
The photographing completed, we went to the spring, 
where we ate our lunch. The spot was an ideal home 
for elk, and judging from the number of tracks we saw, 
the bulls had made it their headquarters for some time. 
The mud hole which we saw from the divide seemed to 
have been a wallowing place; at an}' rate it was full of 
tracks, and there was mud on the antlers of the elk. 
Having lunched, we returned to the carcasses, and as 
it was impossible to pack them out except in pieces, we 
proceeded to skin, quarter them and cut the meat in 
chunks from the bulls. . While doing so we were pestered 
by flies of several kinds, all equally bloodthirsty. These 
appeared to have gathered around and stayed with the 
elk, for they were the only ones which gave us any 
trouble during our outing, and when we returned to the 
pot hole next day they were all gone. We worked away 
until it was time to return to camp. When we did so 
Dewey packed out the two capes, i. e., the skins of the 
heads and necks, which he had removed artistically. They 
weighed, I should say, about 50 or 60 pounds, and though 
I am fairly strong I would not have undertaken to carry 
them in the pack sack to the top of the divide, to say 
nothing of the four miles beyond. They did not appear 
to trouble Dewey, however, nor was he any mode winded 
than the doctor and I when we reached the top of the 
slope. 
Next day we returned with the horses, completed the 
cutting of the meat, and packed about half of it to camp, 
together with the heads and antlers. In order that the 
latter could be carried conveniently, Dewey having first 
removed the lower jaws, sawed the skulls in two between 
the horns. He had brought a saw with his outfit for that 
purpose. 
It was our intention that we should all return next 
morning with the horses and pack out the balance of the 
meat, but when we got up it was raining heavily, with a 
gale of wind and there was no saying how long it would 
'be until the weather changed. The prospect was not 
pleasant, but Dewey said: "I guess I'll do this trip alone. 
The horses will carry the meat anyhow, and I can load 
them alone. You had better stop in camp and keep dry." 
We elected to stay, and Dewey left with the horses. 
He must have had a pretty tough time of it, for the 
weather did not improve during the day. We found it 
anything but cheerful in camp. It was not only wet, but 
cold, and we moped in the tent, wearing our heaviest 
underclothing and our mackintoshes, except when we 
were forced to go out to cook our meals. 
Our only amusement was with whisky jacks. There 
were about a dozen of the cheeky little birds hopping 
about, and some of them came into the tent. The doctor 
said: "I'm going to catch one;" laid a small piece of 
bread on his hand and sat still. The bread was soon 
snatched, but the doctor failed to snatch the bird, which 
was too quick for him. He tried bait after bait, and at 
last he captured a bird, but though it had been so impu- 
dent and greedy when at liberty, it was badly frightened. 
The doctor spent an hour or two in petting and trying 
to tame it, but found that impossible and let it go. 
Dewey came toward evening bringing the meat. The 
rain continued until we went to bed, but when we got up 
next morning the weather was beautiful, and as we could 
hunt no more, we prepared for the back trail to the ford. 
Dewey packed about 150 pounds of the choicest cuts of 
the meat, the heads and capes on two of the horses, 
rubbed the balance of the meat with salt, piled it up in a 
shady place, covered it with a tarpaulin and gunny sacks, 
and left it, with the greater part of his own outfit, to be 
called for later. The third horse carried the balance of 
our traps. Our preparations took up some time, but at 
last we got off. 
When we reached the spring half way down the trail, 
we found the water muddy, the surrounding ground wet 
[Apiul 26, UjO'J, 
And the tracks of a very large bear in the mud. Evidently 
We had disturbed him while he was wallowing in the 
water, but we did not see him. We would not have ob- 
jected to a shot at him, but when a little further down 
we started five deer in a bunch we let them go. We did 
not want any of them. 
We reached our cabin by the river in the afternoon, 
and camped there for the night. The doctor and I 
whipped the water for an hour or so in the evening, but 
neither of vis got a rise. 
We got off in fair time next morning; Saturday. Sep- 
tember 14. crossed the ford and took the trail for Mc- 
Donald, which we reached about noon. As we were 
approaching it we met two Port Angeles friend s of 
Dewey's who were on their way to Plappy Lake for a 
hunt. They shocked us with the news of the shooting 
and death of President McKinley, both of which had 
taken place while we were in the wilds. 
From McDonald we went to Port Angeles in the mail 
carrier's wagon, Dewey following with the horses, On 
reaching the town we interviewed the county officials and 
paid our $20 each for killing our elk. 
We remained over Sunday and were most hospitably 
used by some of the good people of the town, particularly 
by Mr. Lauridson, its leading merchant, who treated 
us to a sail across the harbor on his yacht. 
We left for Seattle about 1 A. M. on Monday, and in 
due time reached Portland with our elk trophies and 
meat in good order. We had arranged with Dewey that 
he should return to the mountains for the balance of the 
meat, pack it out, jerk some of it and sugar cure the bal- 
ance. He carried out the contract satisfactorily, and the 
meat reached us in due time very nicely cured.. 
Altogether the doctor and I had a first-class outing. 
Probably we would have seen more elk arid bears galore 
if we had gone to the headwaters of the Elwha, as 
Dewey recommended, but as it was we got all the elk the 
law allowed us and all we wanted, and we could have 
killed more. We had found Dewey to be all that had 
been promised for him, and not only competent as a 
guide, hunter and packer, but a cheerful, willing Avorker. 
We had feasted our eyes on magnificent scenery and had 
new life put into us by the pure air of the mountains. 
What more could any reasonable men want? 
W. P. 
A Walk Down South.-XXVL 
On Wednesday morning, Jan. 22, I made ready to go 
to Rogersville, going down the road to bid the editor of 
the Hancock Times good-by. 
"Well," he asked, "did you find your man?" 
■ "What do you mean?" 
"Oh, I'm on," he said with a wink and a poke at my 
ribs. "Pinkerton has many a man on the road." 
There it was again. For days I had been talking to 
him about newspapers, stories, had eaten dinner with 
him, but he hadn't been convinced. A stranger to the 
mountain mind of Tennessee is either a fugitive or a 
detective, and that is an illuminating fact. 
Henry F. Coleman, a lawyer, is a sportsman, a — well — 
loves the mountains for the nature in them, and hunts 
quail for the pleasure in it. He gave me a copy of his 
little book on the "Amateur Sportsman." in which he 
tells the rules which his long experience has caused him 
to believe best to follow in quail hunting. For instance, 
he says : 
"When birds are found, the sportsman should advance 
slowl}', placing his thumb on the cock of his gun as he 
advances, and making it a point to be" as near the birds 
as possible when they rise. Being near the birds when 
they rise is one of the greatest secrets of success m 
quail shooting." 
The six thousand words that comprise the pamphlet 
cover such things as "Courtesy Among Sportsmen," "How 
to Teach Obedience" — of the dog — shooting at .various 
angles, etc., which Mr. , Coleman has learned about in the 
fields of Tennessee, where there is much to interest the 
sportsmen, especially quail. 
I left Sneedville and started for Rogersville via Lee 
Valley, where Cal Cope and Tip Jones live, starting about 
9 o'clock after an hour's talk with Mr. Coleman. It 
was an interesting walk to me. The buskwhackers I had 
seen, men who believed that buskw.hacking was the best 
way to settle hog disputes and openly advocated murder 
because "Gillenwaters would get 'em loose for a thousand 
dollars," did not inspire much respect — but they did 
seem fearsome, and that road was a lonesome one. There 
was no telling from what bush one of the despised class 
would open fire. Various emotions naturally came and 
went as I plodded along. In the gap through Copper 
Ridge Mountain — gloomy, narrow and deep — I felt ex- 
actly as I did when putting down some firewood back in 
Pennsylvania. If the ax slipped I might cut myself, and 
that would hurt, perhaps badly. It made me nervous and 
I stumbled over rocks, but not hurriedly, for I was more 
than two and a half hours going five miles. I was sorry 
I didn't have the revolver with me — I left it at Rogers-* 
ville, lest it look as though I were a detective. Every 
mile had its gloomy woods. I "expect" that my eyes 
were, for the time, as bulging and glancing as those of 
any of the men at Sneedville. It was the first opportu- 
nity I ever had of being afraid of gun "fighting" bad 
men, and I made the most of it. 
The nearest similar feeling I'd had was when a clog 
I wounded with a revolver showed its teeth to me -in a 
dusky cellar. It wasn't a respectable, heroic battlefield 
scare in either case — 'just a measly crawling along the 
back which one couldn't ignore nor yet admit to him- 
self and retain any self-respect. 
At noon I stopped at the home of Mr. Davis. He had 
been a Federal soldier like many another east Tennessean, 
a sturdy, farmer man these days, he lives comfortably 
between two steep-sided gully banks. 
"Jim Wright's a coward; his whole crew are cowards. 
They never bother men," he said. "They get behind 
something to shoot at each other. I saw that kind in 
the war. We couldn't keep them in line on battle days 
except by lining men up behind them with' orders to use 
the bayonet if they turned back. I've lived here ever 
since the war, but they never have molested me ; and they 
never will, without it's from that brush up yonder. 
"When I was young," Mr. Davis continued, "this was 
r 
