Luck, however, favored us and I got 
another fair bull elk while Hartley, 
keener about the meat than big horns, 
killed a couple of cows. One of these 
he had wounded with his first shot and 
had had to follow for some distance be- 
fore finally killing her near the head of 
a heavily wooded valley. On returning 
to pack in the meat next morning he 
found much of it pretty badly torn and 
one of the quarters which he had hung 
up, though not high enough, was gone 
entirely. Plainly visible in the melting 
snow were the tell-tale prints of “old 
three toes,” or Mr. Grizzly. 
The bear, whose trail was easy to fol- 
low, had not gone more than half a 
mile before lying down to sleep off his 
feast, and was only disturbed when 
Hartley got within forty yards of him, 
when he sat up with a discontented 
grunt. But whether he would have 
made off or charged, none can tell, as 
a well-directed 45-90 from Hartley’s 
rifle promptly settled with the pur- 
loiner of his meat. 
Never having killed a Grizzly up 
to that time, I was, of course, 
disappointed not to have been in at 
the death of this one and wished 
to try for another, but as the weather 
was again looking threatening and as 
we already had as much as the horses 
could well pack out to the wagon in one 
trip, provided one of us took turns in 
walking, we decided not to take the 
chance of getting stuck in a big snow- 
storm in the mountains. As it was, 
we were delayed one extra day in 
rounding up two of the horses who had 
wandered off down the valley and by 
the time we got them back to camp it 
was too late to pack up and make a 
move. Next morning, by getting up 
while it was yet hardly light, we were 
able to make an early start, and after 
a long, hard day, got out to our wagon 
about an hour after dark, thoroughly 
tired as to body and temper, which lat- 
ter will be appreciated by any who have 
travelled over mountain trails with a 
pack train. The following day’s jour- 
ney with the wagon was comparatively 
easy and our arrival back at Hartley’s 
little ranch was the concluding chapter 
to what was in every way a most en- 
joyable hunt. 
Our provisions, though simple, had 
been constantly supplemented with an 
ample supply of elk venison which, in 
turn, was frequently relieved by roast 
grouse or fried mountain trout from our 
own stream, and, with an abundance 
of wood and good water, our camp, if 
not luxurious, was dry, warm and com- 
fortable. 





a HE inevitable call, answered by red-blooded 
MeN.) se eue Autumnal solace in the haunts 
of big game. Giants of the spruce woods— Moose. 
Migrants from the North—Caribou. Wary, white- 
For complete information 
write to A. O. Seymour, tailed Deer and Bear. 
Deo eee pny Pix Gas Ashot at one—orall of them. Guides of experience 
way, Montreal, Canada will take you to their haunts in Eastern Canada. 
Canadian Pacific 



Picture This Paradise— 
ne It’s FOR SALE 
: fi To Close Two Estates 
16,000 acres ot wooded land, here 
and there dotted with hunting lodges 
mothered by a splendid club house, 
and located in Crawford County, 
north Michigan, 12 miles from the 
towns of Roscommon and Grayling. 
Through the property for a reach 
of approximately 15 miles, runs the 
south branch of the Au Sable river, 
well stocked with trout — truly 
desirable in every respect for sports- 
men and lovers of nature. 
h 
ey) 
BY 
i | 

Full particulars will be supplied by 
DETROIT TRUST COMPANY 
DETROIT MICHIGAN 




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