THE GUN AT HOME AND ABROAD 
In no pleasant frame of mind we re-entered the forest to go to our horses. 
“ What a head that bull had.” “ He must be the best in America at least.” 
“ I should never get such another chance, and now I had lost it,” were 
some of my thoughts. 
“ Just look quietly to the right of that tree,” said Jack, pointing to our 
front, and there, either I was dreaming or a big bull stood gazing upon 
us about forty paces away. I raised my rifle slowly, and taking a careful 
aim, pulled. The bull at once dashed off, but had not gone far when we 
heard a loud crash and running forward there lay a fine bull wapiti. It 
was an easy victory. The head was that of a nice twelve pointer but of 
no great size, but it was my first, and as such a thing to remember ever 
afterwards. 
When we got to camp in high spirits there sat my brother Geoff, the most 
unselfish of mortals, in the depths of woe. 
“ Hullo, Geoff, smashed all your plates ? ” we said (for he was a keen 
photographer in the days of glass negatives). 
“ No,” he wailed, “ I have been on your ground and spoilt all your fun 
— besides, I have wounded and lost the best bull in these mountains.” 
Just by chance he had grown weary of camp and had gone for a stroll, 
taking his rifle. In the park adjoining the wood we had hunted he had 
come across a herd of about fifty wapiti controlled by a magnificent bull. 
After a long stalk he had fired at and hit the beast in the shoulder, and then 
had pursued and lost it. It was a sad evening round the camp fire, though 
Jack was quite cheery and hopeful. Next morning we ascended the mountain 
to the small five -acre wood, and leaving our horses crept quietly in, quarter- 
ing the broken timber across the wind. In the very centre there was a 
rustling sound and suddenly a great bull wapiti rose to his feet in front 
of us. A single shot in the neck and he was down again. 
“ Why, this is not the bull we lost yesterday,” I remarked. 
“ No, he’s over there,” said Jack, as we saw the bushes shaking about 
twenty yards to the left. Another big bull was then seen struggling in the 
young spruce and trying to regain its equilibrium, at each attempt falling 
backwards. Another shot rang out and all was over. We had got what we 
had hoped for, two splendid wapiti, one 54| inches and seventeen points 
and the other 52 inches and twelve points, the latter being very thick and 
rough. If not the best killed that season in the Big Horns they were, at any 
rate, splendid specimens of this grand deer, and after thirty years I still 
look upon them with pride as two of the finest heads in my collection. 
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