CHAPTER XI

JACK'S FIRST ELK

The next two or three weeks were warm and bright and the snow melted fast. The little brooks that ran down from the mountains were full of water. Out on the edge of the hay meadows the men were working with ploughs, spades and hoes, mending the irrigation ditches, which would be used to turn the water on the hay land after all the snow water had run off and the dry season had come. There was much of this work to be done, and all were busy at it, except John Monroe and Jack, who rode together each day.

One morning they went out to look at the cows, and then on past them, and out to the end of the mountain. Here turning west, they followed a narrow winding trail up the hill, until they had reached the crest of the ridge and could look over much of the prairie below. Here they dismounted, and leaving the horses in a little hollow where they could feed, they clambered upon a high rock-crowned knoll and sat there looking over the prairie. It was a wide and beautiful prospect that they saw; fifteen or twenty miles of prairie, which from this height looked as if it were level, marked here and there with lakes that shone like silver in the sun, or with white patches of snow in the sheltered ravines. Beyond were mountains; those in front of them dotted with black pines and with white patches of rock; those to the right rising in brown foothills to peaks which were almost as red as blood. Suddenly, John, who had been smoking in silence, said: "My see 'im two h'elk."

"Two elk, Mr. Monroe; oh, where?" said Jack.

"You look on prairie, that a-way," said John, pointing, "just crossin' from Chalk Bluff there, two small little spots movin'. That h'elk."

Jack strained his eyes to find them, but he could see nothing. He had not yet learned how to look for objects on the prairie. Presently, just as he was going to tell John that he could not see them, he dropped his eyes to the prairie nearer the point of the mountain and saw two dark spots, which seemed to be moving.

"I see them now, Mr. Monroe," he exclaimed eagerly. "Are those elk? I don't see how you know. I can see that they move, and so they must be animals, but I should never know what they were."

"Yes, that's h'elks," repeated John. "Suppose you want it kill 'im one h'elk? Get it some meat?"

"Oh, wouldn't I like to? Could we get a shot, do you think? They're awful far off," said Jack.

"Maybe he comin' right up here. Suppose he comin' up one trail, he come to us. Suppose he take trail we come by, smell 'im horses, then goin' run off quick. Suppose we go to point of mountain, see 'im bote trails. Maybe we get it shot. Come."

They clambered down from the rocks and soon caught their horses. Jack mounted first, and sat there impatient to start. But John checked him, saying:

"Suppose no hurry. Good you fix it saddle." So Jack controlled himself, and remembering what Hugh had told him about taking care of his horse's back, he dismounted and tightened his saddle. John had done the same, and they mounted and rode off together, keeping on the crest of a ridge, on one side of which ran the trail they had followed up the hill. On the other side was a little valley overgrown with aspens, among which ran a brook.

If he had been alone, Jack would have galloped as hard as he could to the end of this ridge, so as to see the elk soon and to find out what they were doing, but he remembered again what Hugh had told him, and he remembered too, how he had lost the first antelope he had tried to hunt. So he asked no questions and rode quietly along, feeling pretty sure that John must know what he was doing. At length, when they had nearly reached what seemed the end of the ridge, John pointed to the valley where the brook ran, and said:

"Suppose he comin' h'up there, we get 'im suer." A little while afterward, he said, "Leave 'em horses here," and dismounted, and taking his gun from its scabbard, he walked forward toward the end of the ridge, where great rocks lay scattered over the ground. Jack, as he followed, noticed that John, as he walked, made no sound. The gravel did not crunch under his moccasins, his trousers did not rub against the weeds and bushes. As he made each step, his toe touched the ground first, then the ball of his foot, and then his heel. If he had been a cat walking over a carpet, he could not have made less noise. It seemed to Jack that every time he himself put down his foot, it made a loud rattling on the ground, the sides of his feet scraped against the bushes, and he made a great noise. Before they had gone very far, John turned and made a sign for Jack to stop. Then he cautiously went forward and peered over some rocks, and then slowly lowering his head, he beckoned Jack to come to him. When he had reached John, the old man pointed and said: "Suppose you look. See 'im h'elk comin' h'up this side?"

Jack raised his head very cautiously and looked over the rock, and there, only a few hundred yards away, coming up the side of the ridge he saw two animals nearly as big as horses. Their bodies and legs were graceful and deer like, but they carried their heads and necks very awkwardly. Their noses pointed straight out in front, and they moved their heads slowly from side to side. They had no horns, but where the horns should have been were odd thick bunches, only a little longer than their ears. Their bodies were brownish yellow. He had hardly had time to see these things, when John touched him on the shoulder, and motioned him to come with him. They went back a little distance from the rocks, and entering a ravine that ran down to the valley, crept part of the way toward the timber, and then up the side of the ravine toward the elk. From the top of the ridge they could see the game coming directly toward them. The animals did not stop to feed, but walked straight on, as if they were going somewhere.

"Soon he comin' close. Suppose you shoot, try kill 'im daid. Suppose he wounded, maybe run far. Hard time catch 'im. That bad. Now wait."

For some minutes they sat there, John saying nothing and doing nothing, but Jack feeling very anxious. He remembered the great pair of elk antlers that his uncle had at home, and though these elk here had no horns, still they were the same kind of animals. He wanted very much to kill one, and his heart had been beating fast ever since he had started. While they sat there though, he seemed to quiet down a little; he still wanted just as much to kill the elk, but when he saw how calm John was, he felt a little bit ashamed that he should be so excited, and this made him cool down still more. At length John said: "Suppose h'elk pretty close. My goin' look now." He crept up and peeped over the ridge and then drawing back, motioned Jack to come to his side, which he did, creeping as close to the ground as possible. John signed to him to shoot. He crept up very carefully, raised his head slowly, and there he saw these two great animals about to cross the ravine, hardly forty yards below him. They were walking, but, before he raised his rifle to shoot, both elk stopped, and seemed to be looking over the country beyond the ravine. Jack aimed carefully behind the elk's shoulder and low down, and fired. Both elks slowly turned their heads and looked toward the hunters, but neither moved. "Shoot," whispered John, and Jack threw out his shell, loaded and shot again, aiming at the same place, and, as the second shot rang out, the elk fell on its side, and its companion turned and trotted swiftly away.

"Ha! You shoot good," said John, as he rose to his feet and walked toward where the elk lay. Jack wanted to shout out hurrahs, he was so glad, but he said nothing and walked along by John's side, trying to seem unconcerned, but with a broad smile of happiness upon his face. In a moment they had reached the great animal, which lay there with its slender brown legs outstretched, and its smooth yellow body glistening in the sun.

"Ha!" said John, "You make it good shoot. Good shoot," and he pointed to the elk's body, where, close behind the fore leg, were two tiny holes, not two inches apart, where both the boy's bullets had entered. Either shot would have killed him.

While Jack was looking at the elk, admiring his graceful, strong body, and wondering at the queer, soft warm bunches that grew out of his head, and which he knew must be the young growing horns, John sharpened his knife and prepared to cut up the bull. Bending its head back close to one of its shoulders, he turned the animal on its back, and propped it in position by placing a large stone under its hip. Before using his knife, however, he said to Jack, "Suppose you no want it skin, take it meat to house. Now, skin no good for moccasins. Biemby, be good."

Jack would have liked to carry in the whole elk, so that all might see what a splendid animal he had killed, but he was ashamed to say so to John, and returned a cheerful "All right," to his suggestion.

John's sharp knife quickly cut off the elk's hams and shoulders and then, turning the animal on its side, the long strips of meat lying on either side of the backbone--the sirloins--were torn out. Then very deftly John tied the hams together and threw them across Jack's saddle, fastening them to the cinch rings, put the shoulders and sirloins on his own horse, and they mounted and rode off down the mountain.

The ride toward the ranch was a happy one for Jack. He was glad that he had killed the elk, glad that he had made two such good shots, and he hummed a little song to himself as he rode along and every now and then reached down and smoothed the skin of the elk hams. He could not help thinking how badly he would have felt if he had missed the shot, and the elk had run away, or even if he had missed and John had killed it. This was much better.

Although this was only the second animal that he had killed, Jack was beginning to feel some confidence in his shooting, and was beginning too to understand that he knew nothing about hunting. He could not understand how it was that Hugh and John seemed to know exactly what to do. He could see though that they were never in a hurry, that they were not uneasy about whether the game was going to run away or not, that they were patient and took plenty of time. All this was just what Hugh had told him about hunting, and Jack determined that he would try hard to remember and always to act on it.

The sun was just setting as they rode up to the house. Two of the men could be seen coming across the prairie, driving a bunch of horses before them, and Hugh was just coming down to the corral to let out the milk cows.

He smiled as he saw the meat on the horses, and called out, "Well, son, you've got some meat, I see."

"Yes, seh," said John, "Jack make it good shoot. Good shoot, my tellin' you."

"You killed it, did you, son? Why, that's good. Where'd ye hit it?"

"Good shoot my tellin' you," repeated John. "Plum centre. _Il l'a brisé le coeur deux fois._ Two time."

"You don't say! Why, son, you're goin' to make a sure enough hunter all right. Now, let's hang this meat upon the pole, where the flies won't bother it."

They took the meat off the horses at the foot of a tall pole that stood near the corner of the house, and by means of a pully at the top of the pole, it was hoisted far above the ground where it would be cool and dry, and out of the way of the flies.

A few days later John Monroe packed his horses, and started on to Bear River to visit his daughter. He said that he would return toward the end of the summer and see them again.