THE GUN AT HOME AND ABROAD 
move. And lucky for me that I did. Peering through my telescope, I noticed 
at about 100 yards away what looked like a large poplar leaf in deep shadow 
bobbing up and down, while all the leaves around it were fluttering from 
side to side. This seemed curious, and by and by something still more 
remarkable occurred. As the wind dropped for a moment this strange 
object suddenly popped up like a Jack-in-the-box and instantly disap- 
peared again. I knew then that since no tree or shrub could perform this 
feat, what I had seen must have been some part of a living animal. In 
another minute or two it appeared again, and then I saw clearly enough 
what it was. It was the lower jaw of an elk quietly chewing the cud, with 
its head close to the ground. I now moved to a spot twenty yards away, 
which, though not so good a position to shoot from, commanded a good 
view of the whole of the elk’s head. The sun was shining brightly upon it, 
so I got out my sketch-book and began to make a drawing direct from 
life. In the excitement of the stalk I had hitherto ignored my wet clothing 
and the cold wind, but now a shiver warned me to exchange the pencil 
for the rifle, and having nearly finished the sketch — perhaps the first ever 
taken from an elk in the wild state — I crept back to my old place behind 
the Scotch fir and signalled to Kristian to come down, getting at the same 
time into position for the shot in case he should disturb the elk as he 
descended the hill. 
Provided he had not got the wind of us, the animal was almost bound to 
stand up and gaze, if aroused by any sound, so I kept alternately watching 
Kristian and the quarry to see which would be the cleverer of the two. 
Bismark, however, spoiled the advance of his master. When within 150 
yards of me he must have got some side whiff of the game, for he began 
at once to tug at his chest strap, panting loudly with excitement and sending 
the sticks and stones flying all over the place. No wild animal could fail 
to hear that commotion; at any rate, not the crafty beast amongst the 
birch scrub. He slowly cocked his great ears, stood up and marched 
solemnly out into the open, standing for a moment broadside on to me, 
not 100 yards away. Now was my opportunity, so putting the white fore- 
sight over his heart I pulled, and the next moment off he started down the 
hill at full gallop,* disappearing over the ridge in a couple of bounds, just 
as the wicked Bismark dashed past me towing his broken leash. A volley 
of Norwegian oaths now came from the rear, but I knew that all was right, 
for, except when mortally wounded, no animal ever starts off at a speed 
*This was the only occasion on which I saw the elk actually gallop. 
284 
