222 
WILD NORWAY. 
day after day, and, use all tlie caution and woodcraft we 
possess, a In ft always betrayed us ; though, one evening, 
one of us came close enough up to hear the trio (a bull, 
cow and calf) tearing down branches through dense 
timber, where no clear view could be obtained beyond 
a score of yards. It was on the eleventh night, when 
returning hutwards down-wind, that I saw my first elk. 
From the midst of a tawny mountain-bog, on rising 
a ridge, we “ jumped” a huge black beast, and as the 
elk trotted with mighty stride through scattered pines 
at about a hundred and fifty yards, the foresight already 
sought a flying shoulder, when a shout of “ Coo, 
coo ! ” from Helmar Finvolden restrained the errant ball. 
Despite bad luck with bulls, during my first twenty-four 
days hunting, I six times refrained from firing at cows, 
nor have I yet sent a bullet at the wrong sex, though 
they are considered, in Norway, legitimate game. 
A word here on the mode of living while in hunting 
quarters. This is rough enough, but compares favourably 
with the rigours of reindeer-stalking. There, on the 
high fjeld, one is lucky to have a wooden hutch to crawl 
into; there is no firewood nor fireplace bigger than an 
average kettle. Wet clothes cannot be dried; the 
hunters each night must light their own fire and cook 
food in precise accord with their culinary lights or dark¬ 
ness. Distances and difficulties of transport forbid 
anything being brought beyond the barest necessaries. 
These difficulties, in elk-hunting, are less. In some 
cases, the furthest sseters and sheilings are accessible to 
ponies ; in others, baggage must be conveyed on human 
shoulders, but the weight a Norsk mountaineer can bear 
