ELK HUNTING 
and we had at least the consolation of knowing that the farm people would 
be far more pleased than if we had shot the biggest bull in creation. 
As we walked home down the steep hill towards the Namsen a frightened 
cow elk, which had got our wind, came galloping past me within forty yards, 
with a calf at her heels that she called to continuously in every variety of 
grunt. 
September 22 was quite as fine as its predecessors, so I determined to 
work the high ground in the distance beyond the lakes and arranged to 
spend the night at the Saeter. Antonia, one of the daughters of the house 
and as strong as a hill pony, volunteered to carry our impedimenta — coffee, 
pancakes, two sheepskins and a chunk of elk — and after three hours’ hard 
walking we crossed the big lake and ascended the range to the north-east, 
keeping just under the crest and carefully inspecting as we went along 
all the birch clumps below us. Kristian made an excellent spy. We were 
about to sit down, when he remarked quietly, “ I see a black thing away 
down there — a bull elk, or I am much mistaken.” My glass was imme- 
diately on the spot, a small clump of birch, about 800 yards away below— 
and as I adjusted it out walked slowly a big bull with what looked like a 
very good head. A grand chance this, for I was well above him, and a 
gentle but steady breeze blew down the valley. All the more lucky, too, 
for me, for had the elk moved one minute sooner Kristian could not have 
seen him and we should have gone by unaware of his presence. As I watched 
and gloated over his magnificent proportions he walked slowly forward 
chewing a sprig of birch, entered the clump and lay down, leaving only 
the tip of his horns visible through my glass. He would certainly stay there 
now, and on rising must come within view of a commanding ridge, which 
I had already marked as the point from which I hoped to take my shot. 
Leaving Kristian and Bismark, I commenced the stalk — a very easy, 
although an extremely wet one. When within 300 yards of the elk it was 
necessary to cross two small swamps, and these being in full view I pushed 
myself along slowly, ventre a terre y getting soaked to the skin in the pro- 
cess. At last I arrived at the rising bank, within 100 yards of the elk, 
and keeping a Scotch fir in line with the spot where I knew the animal to be, I 
cautiously peered over. Not a sign of the beast could be seen. Though I 
searched most diligently among the twigs for fully ten minutes nothing 
could I discover. And yet it seemed almost impossible that no part of the 
animal should be visible from my point of vantage, incomparably the 
best, so far as I could see. I must try and try again before venturing to 
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