etness and order.

For two days the hunters pushed on into the mountains with but little
signs of game. Then a rain-storm set in which made the outlook a dismal
one.

"Going to have a big storm," said one of the old hunters.

"Never mind, we'll have to take it as it comes," was Mr. Roosevelt's
philosophical answer. "We can't expect good weather every day."

It was almost noon of that day when all heard the call of a bull elk,
echoing over the hills. The sound came from no great distance, and in
the face of the rain, Theodore Roosevelt and the hunter named Woody set
off on foot after the beast, who was still calling as loudly as ever.

It was not long before the hunters could hear the bull plainly, as he
pawed the earth, a challenge to another bull who was answering him from
a great distance.

"We are gettin' closer to him," said Woody. "Got to go slow now, or
he'll take alarm and be off like a flash."

The timber was rather thin, and the ground was covered with moss and
fallen leaves, and over this the pair glided as silently as shadows,
until Woody declared that the bull was not over a hundred yards away.

"And he's in a tearing rage, on account of that other bull," he added.
"Got to plug him fair and square or there will be trouble."

Without replying to this, Theodore Roosevelt took the lead, keeping eyes
and ears wide open for anything that might come to hand. Then through
the trees he caught sight of the stately horns of the elk, as he stood
with head thrown back, repeating his call in trumpet-like tones.

As the hunters came closer, the elk faced around and caught sight of his
human enemies. Up went his antlers once more, as if to defy them.

"He's coming!" shouted Woody. And scarcely had he spoken when Theodore
Roosevelt took aim and fired at the animal. There was a snort and a
gasp, and the elk turned to run away. Then Roosevelt fired a second
shot, and over went the monarch of the forest in his death agony. It was
a fine bit of game to bring down, the antlers having twelve prongs. The
head was cut off and taken back to camp, along with a small part of the
best of the meat.

After that the forward march was resumed in the face of a sweeping rain
that wet everybody to the skin. On they went until, just as the rain
ceased, they reached a bold plateau, overlooking what is called
Two-Ocean Pass, a wild and wonderful freak of nature, surrounded by
lofty mountains and watered by streams and brooks flowing