there had been two men. An adult elk averages five hundred
pounds of splendid meat; here before us, therefore, lay a thousand
pounds of food thrown to waste just to enable a contemptible
tooth-hunter to obtain four teeth. Tooth-hunting is against the law,
but this is a case where you must catch before hanging.

Well, we saw the cascades, and after resting a little, we started
homeward through the heavy woods, where we were compelled to go more
slowly. We had dismounted, and were gathering some pinon cones from a
fallen tree, when, almost without a sound, a band of elk came trailing
down a little draw where a spring trickled. We watched them file
along, evidently making for lower ground on which to bed. Chub
snorted, and a large cow stopped and looked curiously in our
direction. Those behind passed leisurely around her. We knew she had
no calf, because she was light in color: cows suckling calves are of a
darker shade. A loud report seemed to rend the forest, and the beauty
dropped. The rest disappeared so suddenly that if the fine specimen
that lay before me had not been proof, it would almost have seemed a
dream. I had shot the cow elk my license called for.

We took off the head and removed the entrails, then covered our game
with pine boughs, to which we tied a red bandanna so as to make it
easy to find next day, when the men would come back with a saw to
divide it down the back and pack it in. There is an imposing row of
game hanging in the pines back of our tent. Supper was ready when we
got in. Mr. Haynes had been out also and was very joyful; he got his
elk this afternoon. We can start home day after to-morrow. It will
take the men all to-morrow to get in the game.

I shall be glad to start. I am getting homesick, and I have not had a
letter or even a card since I have been here. We are hungry for war
news, and besides, it is snowing again. Our clothes didn't get dry
either; they are frozen to the bush we hung them on. Perhaps they will
be snowed under by morning. I can't complain, though, for it is warm
and pleasant in our tent. The little camp-stove is glowing. Mrs.
O'Shaughnessy is showing Jerrine how to make pigs of potatoes. Calvin
and Robert are asleep. The men have all gone to the bachelors' tent to
form their plans, all save Mr. Murry, who is "serenading" Mrs.
O'Shaughnessy. He is playing "Nelly Gray," and somehow I don't want to
laugh at him as I usually do; I can only feel sorry for him.

I can hard