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.