Our horses had here excellent grazing grounds, which are much larger than they had appeared to us from the mountains, and as we did not wish to hasten our journey and reach the north too soon, where the vegetation was still dead, we resolved to rest here for a few days. Still, as the stream might perhaps swell rapidly, we thought it better to pass it and camp higher up. It was about fifty yards wide, and rather rapid, and the buffalo path on which we were went down into it at such a pitch that it was difficult to convey our traps across. Tiger and I consequently went up the stream in search of a spot easier of access. We had hardly gone a mile between the rocks, when we saw four large elks grazing on a meadow, which did not notice us. We were obliged to make a lengthened ascent to get to windward, and after a fatiguing clamber up and round the stones, we at length reached a large rock about eighty yards from them. We marked the animals we would fire at, and pulled triggers almost simultaneously. Tiger's elk fell dead, but mine got up and went off with my second bullet which I gave it, though it was in a very bad case. I sent Trusty after it, and heard him bark once, and then become silent. The distance at which I had heard him was too far for me to run the risk of seeking him, and hence I sounded a couple of notes on my hunting horn to recall Trusty. While we broke up the elk the faithful dog came in, bearing the signs of victory on his blood-stained coat; we followed him to the elk, which he had captured, and found it dead with its throat torn out.