OUTWITTED BY AN ELK 
By E. A. BRININSTOOL 
W E were a party 
of four on a 
hunt in the Big 
Horn Mountains of Wy¬ 
oming—Ed Hatch, thiee 
of his friends and my- 
ggH. I was an attorney 
living at Sheridan, in 
that state; I was also 
an aspirant for the dis¬ 
trict-attorneyship of my 
county. I had been do¬ 
ing some hard work to 
get the campaign started 
and felt the need of a 
little recreation, so when 
the hunting season open¬ 
ed Ed insisted that I 
come up and spend a 
mu Die of weeks at his 
hunting lodge. I accepted. 
“You’ll see plenty of game and have 
a good time,” Ed admonished me; so 
bring your outfit and prepare to have 
some real fun.” 
Ed met me at the station with a 
saddle-horse. The cabin was on the 
shores of a little lake high up in the 
Big Horns. It was an ideal spot for 
a camp. “Lots of elk sign,” Ed volun¬ 
teered, as we were riding over the trail. 
Arriving at the camp, I was made 
acquainted with Ed’s friends, who were 
strangers to me. They were a jolly 
bunch, and as I was a pretty good 
“mixer” myself, we were soon on the 
best terms of comradeship. 
Ed had a canoe moored in front of 
the cabin in which we explored the 
shores of the lake, finding plenty of elk 
sign, while deer were numerous. Veni¬ 
son was soon hanging around m the 
trees near the lodge, and we were en¬ 
joying ourselves to the utmost. 
One afternoon, as we sat on the plat¬ 
form in front of the cabin, smoking and 
planning a hunt down at the lowei end 
of the lake, we heard the baying of a 
hound far off on the eastern end of the 
little body of water. Ed frowned and 
exclaimed impatiently: 
“There’s some fellow out running 
deer. I’ve got mighty little use for anj 
man who calls himself a real sportsman 
who will run a deer with dogs. Wonder 
who it can be?” 
AVe sat there for some little time 
listening and speculating. Finally the 
baying of the dog drew nearer, and it 
was evident that the hound was run¬ 
ning some sort of game in our direction. 
“I’m going down the lake a little 
ways in the canoe,” I finally remarked. 
“Maybe I can get a glimpse of what 
that dog is trailing.” 
I didn’t take my rifle along. Leaving 
the boys on the porch, I climbed into 
the canoe and began paddling slowly 
and cautiously down the lake, keeping 
as close to the shore as possible. The 
underbrush along that side of the lake 
was quite dense, and I skirted along 
slowly, taking care to make no noise 
with my paddle. 
I had gone perhaps a quarter of a 
mile from the cabin, which was in plain 
view all the time, when the louder bay¬ 
ing of the dog told me that whatevei 
animal was being pursued must be close 
at hand. I pulled in my paddle and 
allowed the canoe to drift noiselessly. 
Suddenly a large bull elk broke from 
the underbrush and trotted to the 
water’s edge. The animal was perhaps 
a hundred yards in advance of my posi¬ 
tion. Pausing but a moment, the louder 
baying of the hound warned the pur¬ 
sued creature that an enemy was close 
at hand, and it waded out into the 
water and struck out for a projecting 
point of land nearly half a mile distant. 
I was such an interested spectator, 
and so delighted at seeing the elk give 
the dog the slip, that up to this moment 
it never occurred to me to interfere in 
any manner with the creature’s escape. 
But after it had forged ahead a few 
hundred yards, a brilliant (?) idea 
came into my head. There was a bow¬ 
line attached to the canoe. It was long 
and strong. Why not throw a noose 
over the elk’s antlers and have a free 
ride, with animal power as the means 
of locomotion? 
I teetered along to the bow of the 
canoe, picked up the 
bowline and hastily made 
a running noose. The 
line was fifteen or twen¬ 
ty feet long, the other 
end being fastened to a 
strong staple in the bow 
end. The staple was 
held in place by heavy 
screws. 
Returning quickly to 
my seat, I coiled the line 
in front of my seat, 
ready for use. The elk 
by this time was some 
distance in the lead. 
Picking up the paddle, I 
plied it vigorously and 
soon began to gain on the 
swimming creature. I 
heard some loud shouts 
from the cabin, and noted that the boys 
had all run down to the edge of the lake 
to watch the fun. I paused long enough 
to wave my hat at them, then returned 
to my paddling with increased vigor. 
I didn’t stop to figure out what I was 
going to do with the elk in case I did 
succeed in roping him. Neither did it 
occur to me that there was the least 
bit of danger connected with the propo¬ 
sition. I was only thinking what a 
story it would make to be able to say 
that I had roped a big bull elk in a 
lake, and that the creature had towed 
me a mile or two in a frail canoe- 
something I was ready to warrant had 
never happened to any other sportsman, 
of my acquaintance, at least. Also, I 
wanted to “show off” before the boys. 
And then, it wasn’t going to do any 
particular harm to the elk and cer¬ 
tainly there was nothing for me to 
worry, about, so far as my own personal 
safety was concerned. 
The elk was plowing through the 
water at a pretty rapid speed. Loud 
barking at the shore behind showed 
that the dog had tracked his quarry to 
the water’s edge, and that the chase 
was over, so far as that particulai crea 
ture was concerned. 
The elk seemed to sense that another 
foe was on his trail, for he snorted and 
breasted the water faster than ever. 
But it took me only a few rapid strokes 
to overtake him. 
I had the bowline all ready. It looked 
so easy to toss it over the animal’s 
antlers. Plainly it was frightened, and 
I wondered if it might not turn on me 
and show fight. I grabbed the rope, 
and with a sweep of the paddle threw 
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