While the guide was uttering these words of caution and advice, Oscar’s rifle spoke; and the big elk, pierced through the spine, fell to his knees and rolled over dead.
The rest of the herd fled in the greatest confusion; and Pink, alarmed by the noise of the hoofs, and believing, no doubt, that they were about to charge him in a body, took to his heels and made all haste to get into the willows; but, finding that he was not pursued, he quickly mustered up courage sufficient to run back to the prostrate elk, which he was the first of the party to examine.
“I’ve got him at last, thanks to you, Thompson,” said Oscar, as he leaned on his rifle and looked down at the fallen monarch. “In all my collection there is but one specimen that I value more highly than this one, and that is the grizzly. Pink, you’re a brick, and I’ll never make sport of you again.”
The dog evidently did not appreciate the compliment, or else he did not put any faith in the promise; for, when Oscar attempted to lay his hand on his head, the little animal backed away and growled savagely at him.
Tom presently came up with the mule, and, in two hours more, the new specimen had been carried to the cabin and Oscar was hard at work upon it.
This was Oscar’s last notable exploit among the foot-hills. Of course the sport did not end with the shooting of the monarch elk, for there were still many animals in the valley that were not represented in his collection, and Oscar’s efforts to secure them were not always unattended by danger.
He kept on adding to his specimens, and now and then he did something in a quiet way that made him feel good for a week.
One of these achievements was the bagging of the wolverine which had so often robbed his traps. The animal was fairly outdone in cunning, and knocked over when he did not know that there was an enemy near him.
The rest of the winter was passed in much the same way as were the days whose incidents we have so minutely described. The hunters devoted a good deal of their time to trapping, and their pile of skins grew larger every day.
The traditional January thaw came at last, and set the eaves to dropping and the brook to running for a few days; and then Jack Frost reasserted his power, and shut everything up tight again.