ELK HUNTING 
The rain, however, had been so heavy as to wash away almost every 
trace of our quarry, so after an hour’s slow tracking, in which we made 
only about half a mile, we gave up the pursuit as hopeless and hastened 
down to Lynsetmo to take counsel with the farmer who, sooner or later, 
would probably come across our game. The bear, I felt sure, was so badly 
wounded that, once he got stiff, he would travel no further, and then, when 
snow came, our agricultural friend would find him. 
And this was exactly what happened. At the end of September there was 
a heavy fall of snow, and the farmer’s son, going to the furthest end of our 
track, found the poor beast in a hopeless condition and unable to rise. He 
rushed home to arouse the neighbours with their dogs, but when a heavily 
armed force arrived to give the coup de grace poor Bruin had given up the 
struggle and was dead. Kristian’s shot, passing through the top of the 
shoulder blades, could not, I think, have permanently disabled the beast, 
but the wounds inflicted by the Mannlicher bullet expanding in the stomach 
had done their deadly work, slowly but surely. Excellent as the Mannlicher 
is for all soft -skinned animals it is not the weapon for bear, and it was really 
a piece of luck that I eventually recovered the skin and skull which Kristian 
sent to me. 
From Lynsetmo, a walk of about fourteen miles brought us to the house 
of Admiral in Grondalen (a place I had taken for hunting and fishing), 
and well pleased I was with all I saw there — a delightful log -house about 
thirty feet above the Inns river, and a charming lake in which the trout were 
up for the afternoon rise; while indoors Kristian’s wife, who had gone on 
before us, had made every arrangement for our comfort. Getting out my 
rod, I soon had three beauties (1 \ lb., 1 lb., and f lb.) lying on the bank; 
so when my friend, Mr Lodge, who was to meet me here, returned from 
the chase, we had a grand supper of fish and ryper, enlivened with a recital 
of his adventures as well as my own. 
In the evening I walked up to a big shoulder above the lake for just a 
peep at my new hunting ground; and very “ gamey ” it looked. Above 
me rose a great rock-scarred range of mountains towering up to a height 
of 3,000 ft. and more or less clothed with timber from base to summit, 
while above and beyond this dense forest were lovely little bays and corries 
of birch, just turning yellow in the autumn sun. Here, too, grew masses 
of the mountain salix, the favourite food of the elk — a sure indication of 
the fact that but a short time ago this quiet secluded valley had been one 
of the best retreats for elk in the north. 
269 
