THE GUN AT HOME AND ABROAD 
then bamboozle you completely. A red deer would give one swift glance 
and bolt, regardless of obstacles, and other deer would make a concerted 
dash down hill. Not so the “ monarch of the Great Divide.” He just stands 
and brazens it out in seeming surprise that all his arts, so generally 
successful, are of no account. You have, in fact, taken a mean advantage 
of him and he is slow to grasp its import until the forest rings with a shot 
and death overtakes him. 
No chase in America, except perhaps that of the mountain sheep and the 
moose, is more fascinating than that of the wapiti. In the old days their 
pursuit was generally easy, because at certain seasons these animals were 
plain dwellers and exposed to attack on horseback, but now they must be 
hunted in the forest by the careful still -hunter and their pursuit is dis- 
tinctly difficult. As Colonel Roosevelt says, “He is the grandest of the 
deer kind,” and it should be incumbent on all true sportsmen to preserve 
the race. A few bulls may be killed, and this in reality does little harm, 
but cows and calves should never under any circumstances be shot. If 
this excellent advice had been followed in recent years there would still 
be an abundance of wapiti in Wyoming, Montana, Idaho and Colorado, 
but in a country where every man is a law unto himself and cares little 
for game regulations, the preservation of these fine animals is more than 
difficult. A considerable check to slaughter was made when the Yellow- 
stone Park was isolated as a sanctuary, and for a time the wapiti were 
well preserved in the adjoining districts to which they worked out in 
winter; but recently much of the country to the west of the Snake River 
has been taken up by small ranchmen, who have killed the game recklessly 
on the pretext that the deer were devouring all the winter feed of the cattle. 
It has always been found that whenever civilization, in the shape of farmers, 
advances into the heart of a game country and the State is powerless to 
enforce laws restricting the shooting of local owners, the game has to go. 
No sentiment will check it. In spite of oceans of literature in the public 
press and the actions of game preservation societies, the rights or fancies 
of residents will always beat the law. Regulations are only enforced when 
the game has gone. The same deplorable state of things is taking place 
to-day in the home of the finest and most varied fauna the world has ever 
seen, namely, in British East Africa, and the administration is powerless 
to check the destruction. The travelling hunters, who give a fine rental 
to the State, amounting to at least £10,000 a year in licences, only destroy 
a small percentage of the males and in no way affect the quantity of game; 
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