Another day I went out with one of our hunters called "Firing-at-a-mark Stony." We generally cut his name short, calling him "Firing Stony." He was a good hunter, but just then he was suffering with weak eyes and had not done much on this trip. We rode for miles, when presently I saw a buck elk in the distance, moving across our course. We headed him off, and I said to my companion, "Run to that bluff and shoot him." This he attempted to do, but missed the elk. Then said I, "You have had your chance; the next one is mine." We kept on a few miles farther, when suddenly I saw a monster elk feeding along the shore of a small lake. I seized my companion's rein and pulled both horse and man out of sight as quickly as I could. We hastily fastened our horses and approached the spot where I had seen the elk. There was quite a promontory or hill down to the spot where our game was feeding, and he seemed to be coming our way. So I crawled to the top of this hill, and Firing Stony came behind me. "If you miss him I will fire," he said. "Of course," said I, "you are Firing Stony; you cannot do anything else but fire. However, I am not going to miss him," and up to the top of the hill we crawled. When I peeped over the summit the big fellow was almost directly beneath me, and still calmly feeding; so I rose and shot him right through the back, and down he tumbled. Firing Stony then ran excitedly down and shot him in the head. "Why did you do that?" I enquired. "To make sure of him," he responded cheerfully, "we already missed one to-day." "You missed one, but I did not," said I, and we laughed as we reloaded our guns and straightened the immense creature preparatory to skinning him. We made a fire and roasted the antlers, and were hungry enough to heartily enjoy a substantial meal. Once more our horses were heavily laden, especially mine, for besides half of the meat I had the hide; but this time it was not little Bob, so I did not much care. [Illustration: "Down we ran, and chased them across the full length of the bar."]