“Why! they went the other way!” Dig declared. “Isn’t that so?” “We suppose so. Hard to tell what a frightened bunch of animals will do, though I supposed they would continue to graze northeast.” “Never mind. We’ll see what those things are if they’ll let us get near enough.” It wasn’t long before the boys identified the moving objects (of which they caught sight now and then as they cantered over the rolling prairie) as a pair of elks. The spreading horns of the male were quite easily seen. “If we get one of those, boy, it’s going to be no cinch,” declared Digby Fordham. “That’s a big buck.” “We’ll try, at least,” said his chum. “If you don’t at first succeed, you know—” “Oh, yes! I know,” returned Dig. “Suck eggs! But I’m not fond of ’em in that way. Take it from me, I don’t care to ‘try, try again’ for those elks. We’re soon going to be just as hungry as ever Robinson Crusoe was. Fix it so I get a shot at one of ’em from a rest, Chet.” “Well! don’t rest the butt of your rifle against your forehead again,” advised Chet, glancing at the smear of blood that had oozed through the handkerchief Dig had bound about his brow. “Watch me!” growled Dig. “I won’t shoot this old gun again without being mighty sure that she isn’t going to kick me.” When they came to the next water-hole he dismounted and bathed the wound on his forehead. It was a bad gash, and the forehead was sore and bruised all about the wound. “Talk about being wounded in the war,” said Dig grimly, as Chet tied the handkerchief again. “I ought to get a pension. My uncle carried this old rifle for three years in the war, and I bet I’m the only one that’s ever been wounded with it.” “And that at the wrong end,” chuckled Chet. “But didn’t your uncle ever shoot at the enemy?” “I don’t believe so. He was too tender-hearted. It’s a family trait,” said Dig gravely. “I bet you don’t show any of that tenderness of heart if we come within shooting distance of those elks,” said Chet, climbing back into the saddle. “Now, aren’t you just right?” proclaimed Digby. They galloped on, seeing the elks from the next rise not more than three miles away. How the graceful creatures had come out here on the plain was something of a mystery—especially without more of their tribe. Now Chet took the lead and governed the approach to the feeding place of the elks. There were no thickets, but there were several mounds behind which the young hunters could screen themselves. Yet none of these shelters was near enough to enable the boys to get within easy rifle shot. They tried one mound, dismounting and lying flat, to rest the barrels of their guns over the top of the rise. But the distance was too great. Dig wanted to try it, but Chet forbade him to shoot.