Rocky Mountain Boys; Or, Camping in the Big Game Country

by St. George Rathborne

Felix wanted very much to duplicate the performance of his chum. He had made up his mind to three things, which he hoped his trip to the Rockies would bring forth. One of these, as has been said before, was to be able to shoot a ferocious grizzly bear, alone and unaided. Then he yearned to bring down one of those sturdy jumpers of the steeps, a Rocky Mountain sheep, or bighorn, stories concerning which he had read so many times; and last of all, he hoped to get the head of a seven-pronged buck, something that in all his hunting before he had never been able to secure for his collection.

He strode away, and in less than half an hour had begun to work things to suit the conditions of the hunt. The wind had changed materially from the preceding day, and was now coming out of the northwest. This allowed Felix a chance to head in a northerly direction, which was just what he wanted; because it gave him the option of covering ground which Tom had not touched in his little hunt.

Now he was moving cautiously along, eyes and ears on the alert; for his chum had warned him that in all probability the first thing he would know concerning the presence of a deer would be when he heard it jump hurriedly to its feet in some thicket, and then catch a glimpse of its brown side as it leaped wildly away. And Felix, being a clever snap-shot with his favorite gun, was on the watch ready to do himself credit.

Of course, even the best of hunters may make a poor shot at times, since when a deer plunges madly through woods and brush there is no certainty for aim; but he believed that if the chances gave him half a show he would make a success of his little excursion.

A more cautious or experienced lad than Felix would of course have taken more pains to note the lay of the land, and its other features, calculated to prove of more or less value to him later on in case he got his bearings mixed.

But he was buoyant and indifferent; besides, it happened that he had lately discovered certain tracks that held his interest, to the exclusion of all such minor things as the possibility of his getting lost.

These hoof prints had certainly been made by a deer of unusual size, a fact he viewed with exultation, since it told him that undoubtedly here was the very buck for which he had long been looking, and whose antlered head he began to hope was to grace the wall of his den at home.

And as he moved along he registered a silent vow that he would let nothing come in the way to interfere with the success of his undertaking, should he only have the good fortune to come up with his quarry.

Felix could not tell exactly how old the tracks were. He saw by several signs, however, that they had been made since early morning, since in places they had broken down the partly frozen earth. He was trusting partly to luck that the deer might not be miles away from him just then. If he had followed the usual custom of his kind he had lain down during the middle of the day, when the sun was warm, and might be feeding by this time.

An hour passed away, and Felix was just as eagerly tramping along with his eyes fixed upon those tracks as when he first started. If there was one trait young Edmondson possessed that cropped out frequently, it was his stubbornness, once his mind was made up; no matter what difficulties loomed up ahead, that were calculated to dismay the ordinary fellow, he would not be deterred.