
ward the prairies gave place to a coun- 
try filled with deep gulches, coulees, 
and small hills, which, as we pro- 
gressed, grew gradually higher, while 
the going got constantly rougher. 
S we ascended, the grade became 
less steep and we came out on a 
series of flat meadows or parks, bor- 
dered by the pine-forested hills, some 
of only a few acres, and others of a mile 
or so in extent. Feed for horses or 
game was abundant and our brook 
here meandered lazily along, crossed 
and recrossed by well trodden game 
trails. We saw frequent sign of elk, 
and, in the soft ground near the stream, 
the impression of hoof and dew claws 
(false hoof) of what must have been 
a mighty bull. None of the sign was, 
however, particularly fresh and we 
kept on up another grade and through 
a long stretch of heavily timbered bot- 
tom until we emerged on another long 
park-like glade. Here, just within the 
woods, and with a timbered slope to 
the north of us, we made a comfortable 
camp, pitching our tent, and carpeting 
it with several layers of fir boughs 
which made a spring mattress on which 
to unroll our beds. Dry wood was 
plenty and we soon had a bright fire 
going which threw out a welcome glow. 
The rays of the setting sun had left 
Page 529 
our little valley and we were climbing 
the slopes of the mountains to the east- 
ward. Those near at hand looked, in 
the shadows, dark and somber in their 
robes of deep green, while the more dis- 
tant hills shaded from purple to pink, 
copper and gold, where the sun’s rays 
still glinted on their crests. 
The horses, relieved of pack or 
saddle, took a roll, shook themselves, 
and then commenced to leisurely feed 
in the meadow. Hartley, with a stick 
poised to freshen the fire, and I with a 
half-raised cup of coffee, stopped, 
glanced at each other, and then off to- 
wards the opposite hill—we’d both 
heard it; shrill and unmistakable, on 
the still evening air from the wooded 
hillside, came the whistling challenge 
of a bull elk. From his call, which was 
repeated several times, he was evi- 
dently moving up parallel with our val- 
ley. He stopped, however, as suddenly 
as he began, probably having gotten a 
stray whiff of the smoke of our camp- 
fire, which floated off in a thin blue 
spiral. As it was too dark to attempt 
to follow him that evening, we resolved 
to take up his trail as soon as day 
dawned, hoping, meanwhile, that the 
nocturnal ramblings of this lovelorn 
bull would not take him too far from 
the scene of the evening’s serenade. 
By mid-September, the nights at this 
high altitude are apt to be keen and 
frosty, and we thoroughly appreciated 
the extra blanket apiece, that, in spite 
of a desire to “travel light,’”’ we had de- 
cided to add to our bed rolls. 
E rolled out at daybreak next 
morning and after a breakfast of 
bacon, bread and plenty of hot coffee, 
put a light lunch in our pockets and 
started off afoot for an all day’s hunt. 
Some prefer to do most of their hunt- 
ing on horse-back, but this depends 
much on the character of the country 
we are hunting in, but once arrived on 
ground evidently frequented by elk, I’ve 
sometimes found it productive of better 
results to leave the horses at camp and 
to scour the mountains, glades and rim 
rock afoot. One may not cover as much 
territory as when mounted, but on the 
other hand neither is there as much 
chance of suddenly blundering onto and 
stampeding game without getting a 
fair shot, nor is there the time fre- 
quently lost in going perhaps a mile 
or two back after one’s horse after an 
unsuccessful stalk. 
Just within the timber on the opposite 
side of the valley from camp, we found 
the fresh trail of a good sized bull, 
probably our friend of the preceding 
evening. The tracks headed up and 
parallel with the valley, and, where the 
