The average bodily measurements of a full-grown Scandinavian elk, let us say over seven years old, are as follows: Length from tail to crest, 9 ft. 5 ins.; crest to nose, 2 ft. 5 ins.; height at withers, 5 ft. 8 to 9 ins.; at quarters, 5 ft. 5 to 6 ins.; from belly to ground, 3 ft. 4 ins.; greatest girth, 6 ft. 11 ins. to 7 ft.; round thigh, 3 ft.; round forearm, 1 ft. 11 ins.

The accurate uncleaned weight of so huge an animal it is, of course, impossible, for obvious reasons, to obtain, but it is reported as having occasionally exceeded 1,400 lbs. An average deer will yield from 600 to 700 lbs. of good meat, and a heavy haunch turn the scale at 140 lbs.[12] The height of the bull at the shoulders as compared with the length of his actual body (the two measurements are nearly equal), the massive shaggy neck (on which, however, there is no very conspicuous mane), the enormously long head with its bunch of beard, huge hooked nose and bulbous lip, the rather sloping hind-quarters, and slender legs terminated by immense hoofs, combine to render him a most awkward and ungainly animal to look at; but the rapidity of his movements and his total disregard of the worst obstacles are at times astonishing, and nothing will strike the sportsman more than the way in which, if the golden moment for a shot be lost, the great deer will seem to suddenly and silently melt away like a phantom into the forest.

Another point on which some discussion has arisen is as to what vocal sounds are produced by the Scandinavian elk of either sex during the rutting season, and whether such sounds, if any be uttered, are of habitual occurrence. Personally, during six seasons’ hunting, I have never heard an elk, either male or female, utter any sound whatever; but after long and careful inquiry into the subject, which revealed more antagonism of opinion than even the question of the horns, I have made out, on the clearest evidence, that the bull during the said season gives utterance to a kind of cross between a grunt and a snort, which is often repeated many times in succession, and is audible in still weather at a considerable distance, such sound being unmistakably an amorous call. It is known in Scandinavia as the ‘Lokketone,’ or ‘Lokton,’ and may be heard during the day-time. By equally certain testimony, it is proved that, in moments of rage and defiance, the bull will also roar or bellow furiously. About the call of the cow there is no doubt whatever; she can also, on occasion, produce a loud, harsh roar, intended as an attractive summons to the bull. Colonel Walker mentions his having for some time watched a cow in the very act of uttering this call, after the bull had been shot whilst paying her great attentions. She wholly disregarded the shot herself, and the approach of the shooter, whom she allowed to come within twenty yards before she moved quietly off. When about half a mile away she recommenced her alluring roar, which Colonel Walker describes as ‘like the noise of a very angry bear when you have him where he cannot escape you.’ The cow has also, when separated from her calf, a milder call, nearly similar to that of the domestic animal. The art of calling elk has, happily, never been practised in Scandinavia, and as all the hunting takes place during daylight, and as, moreover, the inhabitants of the interior have a decided objection to being abroad during the dark hours of either evening or morning, this subject, like that of the horns, has probably not received from them much attention. You will find men who have passed all their lives in the wilds of Norway, and constantly hunted the elk, ready to swear that, with the exception of the ‘Lokton,’ neither sex utters any cry whatever. It is somewhat hard to reject altogether the idea that the elk of Scandinavia is, during the rutting season, habitually more silent than the moose is reported to be—but here I get out of my depth.

The first signs that the rutting season is beginning usually reveal themselves about the third week in September, when the hunter will discover in the forest sundry young fir-trees that have been freshly barked and cut to pieces by the horns of the bull. This would scarcely of itself be conclusive evidence, as the bull will occasionally spar with a tree much earlier in the month, possibly to complete the removal of the velvet. I have seen the horns of young elk covered with it as late as the end of the first week. Corroboration will be supplied by sundry shallow scrapings of the ground, the forerunners of the deeper pits which the bull scoops out when his frenzy is more advanced. When, owing to the purpose for which the elk uses them, these pits begin to be so ammoniacally odoriferous as to become guides to even a human nose, then it may be accepted as a certainty that a bull accompanied by a cow is, if not previously disturbed, somewhere in their vicinity.

According to the best authority, the bull only remains with the cow for about three days, after which she will have nothing more to do with him, and beats him off, whereupon he resumes his travels in search of fresh loves. During the whole rutting season, which lasts for about three weeks or a month, and is therefore included to a great extent in the present Norwegian elk season, he eats little or nothing except certain plants of a stimulant character, and becomes, in consequence, reduced to the worst possible condition. At this time he develops a very strong but not particularly disagreeable odour, akin to musk, to such an extent that a hunter might often follow by using his own nose, without the aid of a dog. All the trees and bushes, and even tall grasses against which he brushes during his progress through the wood, are tainted with this peculiar scent. The old bull elks now become very savage and pugnacious, and, not content with attacking each other, will occasionally run at any object they see in motion. My Lapp hunter tells me that when prospecting for elk without a rifle and in the interests of his late employer, he was several times charged by bulls, and had to run for his life and conceal himself in a thicket. But on all these occasions as soon as the elks reached his track and, nosing the ground, recognised the scent of humanity, they in their turn swung round and retreated. It would, however, be foolhardy, if unarmed, to stand their charge, as they might strike the life out of a man with their forefeet, their most dangerous weapon, before their timidity of or respect for the human race generally came into play. An English sportsman of my acquaintance, while returning one evening from an unsuccessful chase, in crossing a small opening in the forest, was charged by a bull, who rushed out of the covert and was only checked at thirty yards distance by a bullet between the eyes.

Both sexes of elk are often seen together by the peasants during the haymaking season, in the forest and near the mountain dairies, and small families, consisting of a cow with one or two calves and a single bull (or possibly a couple), still hold together at the beginning of the hunting season; but as, at the same time, we constantly find a certain number of bulls and cows leading solitary lives, or one or two of the same sex together, the secret of these domestic arrangements is shrouded in some obscurity, and one can only conclude that, as in the case of men, there are some male elk who prefer a roving bachelor life, whilst others have more uxorious and paternal tendencies. I have never been able to discover that the Scandinavian elk has any prominently gregarious instincts under ordinary conditions of existence, although I have heard it stated in Norway that they sometimes unite during the winter into bands of a dozen or more. In some very highly preserved districts, such as the royal forests of Sweden, mentioned later, they are now and then artificially congregated in considerable numbers, and a Swedish gentleman once told me that on a part of his property, at the head of the Gulf of Bothnia, there existed on a stretch of land bounded by two rivers a ‘herd,’ as he termed it, of nearly a hundred elk. But it appeared that in this district, owing to peculiar circumstances and local laws, the deer had not been shot for, I think, over twenty years, and were carefully watched by foresters, so that we have here also signs of compulsory gregariousness; but it is not safe to be dogmatic in this direction. What is more to our present purpose is the certain fact, on which the sportsman may rely, that during the hunting season he will not be troubled or perplexed by any gregarious tendencies on the part of the elk, whether because there are not enough of them or because such is not their habit is of little consequence; he will, I think, discover that a more unsociable and sporadic race of animals, averse to neighbours, does not exist on the face of the earth.

In Scandinavia, now that the use of traps, pitfalls and the like is abolished, there are three legitimate methods of killing elk—namely: stalking with the ‘bind-hund,’ or, as I may render it in English, leash-hound; running with the loose hound; and driving. Of these three methods it may be said that the first is more worthy than the second, and the second than the third. In Norway, owing to the operation of the legal enactment ‘one farm one elk,’ driving is practised on so insignificant a scale as to be scarcely worth noticing. Occasionally, when elk are known to frequent a precipitous mountain, whence it is impossible for them to descend except by certain passes where the guns can be stationed, a few beaters may be employed to move the elk quietly, with a fair prospect of success; but if it should happen that two or more of the passes are within the same holding, some care is necessary to guard against the chance of more elk than the one allowed being illegally killed. A drive of this kind is in Norway termed a ‘klapjagt,’ from the noise made by the beaters. The term is corrupted by British sportsmen into ‘slapjack.’ In certain situations where the ground is favourable, as in a narrow glen or on an isthmus between two lakes, the single sportsman may attempt something of the same kind by the aid of his hunter or attendant, who, making a long circuit, comes upon the elk down wind, and starts them towards the gun in ambush. Nothing more than the wind of man is necessary to move the elk, and the more quietly all these driving operations are conducted the better. The hunter who is wise will always avoid disturbing elk needlessly or wantonly, as they quickly become suspicious of danger, and are apt to travel long distances. In Sweden elk driving has been practised for a great number of years, and sometimes on an immense scale. In Lloyd’s works, ‘Field Sports of the North of Europe,’ and ‘Scandinavian Adventures,’ will be found a detailed account of some of the great ‘Dref- and KnÄptskalls,’ arranged in former days by the Master of the Hunt for the delectation of royalty, by which many elk, bears, and other animals were killed. But, as regards this branch of our subject, it will be sufficient to notice very briefly two great drives which have taken place in quite recent times in one of the royal forests near the town of Wenersborg and the mountains of Hunneberg and Halleberg, at the southern extremity of Lake Wenern. Both these great functions were arranged for weeks beforehand, and many hundred beaters employed in sweeping with a gigantic cordon, which was never relaxed by day or night, an enormous extent of forest, and moving the elk gradually to the stations of the guns. The first ‘skall’ took place during the visit of the Prince of Wales to Sweden in 1885, when forty-nine elk were killed during the day; the second, in September, 1888, when, so completely had the stock recovered from the previous slaughter, that in three drives, also on the same day, there were respectively slain twenty-four, twenty-eight (in this case bulls only), and fourteen elk—a total of sixty-six. Great damage had been done by the deer to the young Scotch firs in the forest, which is some excuse for such a massacre.

By the Norwegian law, elk-hunting with the loose dog is in reality forbidden; at the same time, in several districts it is practised to a considerable extent, and with impunity. But it is in Sweden that this style of chase is most in vogue. To begin with, the physical geography of that country lends itself to the sport. The Swedish forest is for the most part of a rolling character, swelling and sinking into hill and dale of respectively moderate elevation and depth, and spreading out into huge morasses and tracts of natural upland meadow with a degree of uniformity that produces tame and somewhat monotonous scenery. Sweden lacks the deep, gloomy gorges, the precipitous or terraced mountain-faces, the boulder-strewn and birch-clad dells of the higher fjeld, and the barren, stony summits which are characteristic of Norway, and amongst which, if a courageous and persevering hound be loosed at elk, there is great danger of his being quickly and entirely lost to sight and hearing. It is said that an elk can go wherever a man can, and, although this may be somewhat of an exaggeration, inasmuch as no elk could climb the Matterhorn, it is nevertheless astonishing what tremendous ascents and descents his long legs can accomplish under pressure, and with what rapidity he will travel for miles over the fjeld, from valley to valley, so that the most active followers of the loose dog would in such a chase be nowhere.

The elk hound belongs to the breed used by the Esquimaux, a small species of which is known in England under the name of ‘Spitz.’ There are two types of this dog, the one being smaller, lighter limbed, and more finely coated than the other; but they have in common the characteristics of thick hair with an undergrowth of wool, sharp noses and ears, and a bushy, tightly-curled tail, like the inner whorls of a fossil ammonite. Their colour ranges through various shades of grey, brindled and foxy, is occasionally pure black or white, or a mixture of the two. A well-bred and thoroughly well-trained elk hound is a valuable animal and hard to procure: 25l. to 30l.—a large sum in Scandinavia—or even more, is not too high a price for a perfect animal, when we consider how much is required of him, how greatly the enjoyment and success of the sportsman depend upon his experience, sagacity, nose, speed and courage, and how considerable is the market value of each animal that by his aid falls to the rifle of the professional hunter: head, hide and meat included, it may be set at from 6l. to 10l. But the leash-hound, to be used only as a stalking dog, seldom commands anything like so high a price, the Scandinavian natives being, as a rule, singularly ignorant or impatient of this style of pursuit. The best leash-hounds are those which are never loosed. This will be easily understood when we reflect that in stalking a thoroughly good dog will be mute under all circumstances, and always temperate, never straining violently at the leader, even when most eager and excited by the proximity of the elk: whereas it is essential that the loose dog should give tongue freely when he finds, overtakes, or bays the deer, in order that the sound may serve as a guide to the shooter. With the constant expectation of being loosed, he can hardly be expected to restrain his emotions when his instinct, or possibly eyesight, tells him that the glorious moment of freedom is, or ought to be, at hand. Few, if any, dogs can play both rÔles equally well; it will be found that a hound accustomed to being loosed will, in stalking, invariably strain impetuously at the leader, and that it is not safe to let him view the elk, as he will in all probability whine or bark: on the other hand, one that is rarely slipped will only follow for a few hundred yards, and seldom or never stop a deer. I do not deny that good useful dogs may now and then be found who will acquit themselves tolerably in either character, but I am speaking only of the best of each class. Thoroughly broken and trustworthy dogs are sometimes allowed to range the forest from the first, but as a rule the hound is never slipped until, either from his conduct, or from his own observation of signs,[13] the hunter becomes certain that the elk is not far off, or until he despairs altogether of finding one, and trusts to the dog as a last chance. This is but a too common ending to a day when the forest tract is large and fresh signs of elk not discoverable. A brace of dogs are frequently allowed to run at the same time, but it is a safe maxim that when a single dog notifies that he has found and bayed the elk, a second should not be loosed, as his sudden appearance on the scene will often start the deer off and render him more difficult to stop.

In searching for elk with the dog still in hand the hunter works slowly up and across wind, utilising his knowledge of country to the utmost advantage. The dog at such a time—and this applies equally to both styles of hunting—precedes him at a distance of five or six feet, being restrained by a leader or leash, which is fastened to the harness. The best form of harness consists of a belly-band and chest-strap of softest leather sewn together, and further united by a strap which passes between the dog’s forelegs. The belly-band buckles just between the shoulders, and at this point the leader is attached either to a ring or by a simple knot. Some hunters are content to use an ordinary collar; but this is a wretched plan, as with a dog at all given to pulling it produces choking and eventually injures the wind. When the harness is properly made all pressure is on the strap across the broad of the chest. On catching the wind of elk, or of their fresh spoor, the dog naturally faces towards it, when the hunter must use his judgment as to the right moment for loosing. The part of the loose dog, having once found the elk, is either to bring him to bay, or to cause him so far to slacken his pace that the shooter may be able to get up. Whilst the elk is running at speed, the dog is generally mute in pursuing, but the experienced hunter can tell by his note whether the quarry is moving at a moderate pace or is actually stationary. The old bulls, when they have not got wind of man or been otherwise scared, are often easily brought to bay, and in such a case the hunter may approach almost at his leisure; but younger elk, and cows in particular, are much more difficult to stop, and will, as a rule, travel a considerable, sometimes a great, distance before halting. Deer of all ages are specially shy if they have been roused when lying down. Their daily siesta lasts from about noon—or sometimes, according to weather, an hour or two earlier—until two or three in the afternoon, and consequently hunters with the loose dog generally halt during this period, or at least part of it, and bivouac in the forest. It is said—and, I believe, with some truth—that in those districts of Sweden where the elk are during the season continually hunted in this fashion, they are invariably suspicious, when the hound puts in an appearance, that man is somewhere in the background, and that, even when at bay, they are straining their senses to detect the presence of their real enemy, being of course perfectly aware that the dogs, for all their noise, can do them no harm. It is in any case needful for the hunter, however recklessly he may have been running before, to make his final approach as cautiously and noiselessly as possible; and this is not so easy in a Scandinavian forest, where the ground is usually cumbered with any number of dead trees armed with spikes as sharp as rapiers, of rotten trunks half-buried in moss and rank vegetation, and of dry branches and twigs which crack loudly beneath the over-hasty and incautious foot. In the rutting season indeed such a noise is now and then of some slight service to the hunter. I have known several instances in which, the wind being right, a bull either searching for the cow or suspicious of a rival has run back out of the thicket to see what was approaching, and paid the penalty of his curiosity. Such an incident can of course only occur when the dog is in hand, and the sportsman will do well not to presume upon its very rare advantage.

I recollect a scared elk running twenty English miles, with the dog still sticking to him. After giving me a difficult chance, he broke his bay two or three times during the first hour of the chase, and how many times subsequently I cannot say, as, finding the pace too hot for my age and weight, I stopped and let the hunter, who was young and light and a celebrated runner, go on with my rifle. This happened about 11 A.M., and he shot the elk just before dusk. His dog, dear old KurrÈ, was one of the staunchest loose hounds that ever lived; he was, in fact, too good, for if he once got up to the elk he would never leave it until dark, and not always then. On one occasion he held a bull at bay all night, until his master came early in the morning and killed it.

So keen was this dog to keep the attention of the bayed elk on himself, that with a kind of demoniacal glee he would actually roll on the ground just out of reach of his forefeet. When very young he had been struck by an elk, and was supposed at the time to be seriously if not mortally injured; but he recovered himself, went on again, and eventually stopped the bull, which was then shot. With all this ferocious courage there never was a dog more gentle, good-tempered, and well-behaved in ordinary life. When an elk hound, as is certainly not often the case, is possessed of such magnificent staunchness as this, great care must be taken never to slip him at a scared elk, unless the shooter is prepared for, and physically equal to, a long stern chase which may last for some hours. Moreover, others besides the owner of the dog may profit by his grand qualities. The law of Scandinavia permits an elk that has been bon fide in the flesh roused on and moved off one property, to be followed at the time on to another and there killed, although one may not so follow the freshest spoor of an animal that is simply travelling of his own accord; there is, however, nothing to prevent the owner of the other property from killing the elk thus moved on to it. I was once hunting near the great lake KallsjÖn in Sweden, with KurrÈ and his master, when the dog, who was running loose, slipped away unperceived and took up the fresh spoor of elk which he did not overtake until out of our hearing. Having no clue to the direction in which he had gone, we were at last, as evening came on, compelled to go home without him. The next day he was sent back with many thanks by a farmer who lived some miles off, and had heard the dog baying the elk close to a tarn where he happened to be fishing. The man ran home for his rifle, returned to find KurrÈ still holding the family of three—bull, cow, and calf—and killed the lot in three shots! No, KurrÈ was positively too good. Some dogs are cleverly trained never to cross a large river or a lake in pursuit, which in a land of many waters like Scandinavia precludes the chance of their getting too far away. I believe that KurrÈ would have swum the Skagerrak after an elk. But the great majority of elk dogs will give in as soon as the deer really takes to travelling, and too many of them much sooner. The hunter must be careful not to let the leader slip out of his hand when the dog is straining eagerly on spoor, and never to loose him with even only a collar on. Considering that the elk when tackled by the dog will, as a rule, make his way through dense covert and over the most tremendous obstacles in the shape of ‘windfalls,’ where the dog has to keep him company, it will be understood that any even momentary check to the latter’s nimble movements, such as might be caused by a tree-spike catching in the collar, may result in his being disabled or killed. I once, when stalking, fired from the top of a high steep bank at an elk which dropped to the shot and lay motionless. The hunter, who was behind me, thinking the beast stone-dead, foolishly let go the dog, who, with the harness on and the leader trailing, ran down the bank, and when within a few yards of the deer was brought up short by the leader becoming entangled in the branches of a fallen tree. The elk at this moment revived, and was able to rise so far as to squat on his haunches, but the hind quarters being paralysed by a shot in the spine, he could not reach the dog, otherwise he would most certainly have destroyed him, unless I could have dropped him again with a second bullet; but one instant and one blow of the forefoot would have been sufficient for the catastrophe. The hunter, who assured me he had never done so foolish a thing before, was lucky in having the possible result of his first folly brought home to him by so forcible and harmless a lesson.

From what has been said it will be clear that elk hunting with the loose dog is a manly, noble sport, fitted in reality for those who have youth, activity, and decided staying powers. At the same time the race is not always to the swift; experience, cunning, and knowledge of country will effect a great deal, and under certain conditions the elderly hunter may achieve some success; but if the elk really means running, he may as well confess at once that he is not in it, and sit down and light his pipe. But I strongly recommend him to turn his attention solely to stalking with the leash-hound. He will find it scarcely less exciting than the other branch of the sport, and quite fatiguing enough, although it lacks that species of triumph, so dear to Englishmen, which results from success attained by very distressing physical exertion. The serious drawbacks to loose-dog hunting are, first, the common necessity of killing time in the forest—or, it may be, in a ‘sÆter’ or hay-house—for some hours and in all weathers whilst the elk are lying down. Secondly, the fact that it is, to a great extent, blind work, that one is entirely dependent on the dog and must run to a sound, that there is little or no opportunity for the science of woodcraft, and none for that study of the object of the chase which is so dear to the stalker. Thirdly, that you cannot run a single deer for any distance without disturbing a great extent of country. Fourthly, that there is the obligation, if not invariably yet nearly so, to kill whatever beast the hound has succeeded in stopping, be it a young bull with insignificant honours or a cow with a calf in tow. The Swedish hunter never gives quarter; his immutable doctrine may be summed up in the words, ‘Meat for the man, and blood for the dog.’ He will not risk disappointing his hound and perhaps ruining his staunchness, nor will he, if he can help it, stultify the whole raison d’Être of the chase, nor forego his hankering after the flesh-pots. I do not say that the English sportsman is absolutely compelled to adhere to this merciless creed, but he will find it difficult to withstand. He is the actor in a drama in which the hound takes the leading part throughout until the climax, and for that he is himself responsible; excitement, struggle, endurance, opportunity, these are the several stages; it rests with him what the final one is to be: if failure, well, man is prone to err and so is his bullet; after all, he has done his best and tried to succeed—but refusal! I think he will become conscious, possibly against his will, that this is, under the conditions of such a chase, the most miserable fiasco of all: the chance at last, and tamely to forego it! he will feel that he who acts thus is deserving of that limbo to which Dante consigned the otherwise blameless man who refused the popedom:

I find it to be commonly supposed that the chase of the elk is almost always confined to comparatively low ground, covered with pine wood and swampy thickets. There was a time when I had this notion myself, and as regards Sweden it is, no doubt to a great extent, a correct one. But I have recently had reason to change my mind a good deal on this point, and I cannot do better than quote the following passage from an article of mine in the ‘Fortnightly Review’:

We found the best stalking ground at between 1,500 and 2,000 ft. above the level of the valleys. I am here, of course, speaking of Norway, where in the vast desolate districts north of Namsos I have been lucky enough to secure the sole right to kill elk over a considerable tract, about equal in size to the county of Surrey.[14]

The ‘bind hund’ or leash-hound should be trained, as I have said, to be perfectly mute and quiet even when he views elk, and should be taught also to keep close to heel when not required to lead. This latter point is often neglected. It is pleasant to observe the clever way in which a well-broken and steady elk dog will steer his way through covert when in advance, seldom going the wrong side of a tree or bush, and obeying instantaneously the slightest hint of the hand which holds the leader; but I have watched with still greater admiration the extraordinary accuracy with which my Lapp hunter’s dog, Passop, when kept at heel, judges the pliability of any ash-plant or other sapling over which the slack of the leader fastened to his master’s belt is likely to sweep. If it is sure to bend, the dog simply stiffens his neck until the slight strain is past; but if it is too rigid or too much branched, he at once shifts his position from the man’s left knee, close to which he runs, to the right, thus bringing the loop of the slack directly behind the Lapp, who of course avoids the obstacle, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred there is no check to the progress of the pair. When the slack occasionally catches in a projecting root, stone, or dead branch, he will spring like lightning to one side, or even backwards, and clear it before it is drawn taut. I notice that if a rare mistake does occur and the dog goes the wrong side of a tree, the Lapp, even when holding the leader, will never pass the end round the tree as some hunters do, but always pitilessly compels the dog to dodge back to the proper side and free the line himself. The slightest, almost inaudible, sound with the lips is enough to send Passop to the front full of subdued eagerness, and a turn of the wrist to bring him to heel. It is a treat to witness the way in which, when purposely brought to the brow of a hill, he will calmly squat on his haunches and test the wind for many minutes together, quite motionless except for the slight turn of his head and his incessantly working nostrils. By carefully watching his sagacious countenance, one can almost follow his subtle appreciation of the various odours that are wafted to those delicate organs. It may be that he will at length suddenly rise, and without hesitation begin to lead in a particular direction, in which case it becomes a certainty that there are elk somewhere in that quarter, although they may be still a couple of miles or more away. Again, it may be that this prolonged nasal scrutiny will result in his lying down, and, with studied carelessness, beginning to nibble his foot or lick himself, thereby demonstrating that he has temporarily lost all interest in the wind, whereupon it becomes scarcely less certain that there are no deer within a reasonable distance ahead, and that one must strike into fresh country to find them. When there are no elk about, I have seen this hound very keen, although quiet, on the scent of fox or marten-cat, which few dogs can resist; but in the vicinity of the nobler game he always pays the strictest attention to business, and it is impossible to misunderstand him: quite mute with his mouth, he speaks eloquently with the whole of his body. Some dogs are very untrustworthy, and cause infinite trouble and annoyance by working as impetuously up to the signs of fox or marten, or even capercailzie, as they will to elk spoor. In approaching elk with the stalking dog, before they are actually sighted—when his occupation is, of course, for the moment gone—care should be taken not to advance in too direct a line up wind; the dog should be pulled off now and then to right or left, as the case may require, to guard against any lateral movement on the part of the deer. It will be found that when thus pulled off, the hound will be always trying to swing round and face the wind again, and his movements in this way will, if carefully watched, afford a tolerably sure indication of the actual or quite recent position of the quarry. Any eminence in the right line should be ascended, and the ground in front surveyed from just below its crest; and as elk have a habit of turning abruptly and lying down, or moving to leeward of their former track, every yard of ground on either side must be made as safe as is possible under the circumstances. Elk can, of course, be approached either on the line of their spoor or by the wind alone, in case they have come from the opposite direction, and have not traversed the ground over which the advance is made.

When the hunter is sure that he is close upon the elk and is cautiously ascending a rise for the purpose of examining the country beyond and at his feet, including the opposite slope of the rise itself, there is considerable art in making safe each successive inch—which of course represents according to distance several or many yards—of the fresh ground as it comes into view. The narrow line revealed should be carefully examined with concentrated attention, and as far as possible to right and left. In this way the top of an elk’s horn or the line of his back may be detected before the whole animal is visible. The natural tendency of the eye is to search too much space at once, and to keep on repeating a general gaze, including ground already made safe, instead of fixing an intense one on a fresh and limited area. Where there is much forest or brushwood, field-glasses will be found of the greatest use in searching between the foliage and stems; for in spite of their size elk are astonishingly difficult to detect, even in low covert and by the most practised eye. Moreover, in the shadow of a wood various objects will often bear so strong a resemblance to a motionless elk, that even eyes as keen as those of my Lapp hunter, whose quickness and strength of sight are remarkable, are frequently unable to determine their real nature without reference to the glasses. He always carries a pair of his own.

The stalker at a considerable elevation will often find that, when expecting momentarily to view the elk, he is led to the verge of a very steep slope, forming the side of a ravine or dell, overgrown with trees and brushwood, and not seldom strewn with much dead lumber. On a bank of this nature there frequently flourishes a considerable growth of tall herbage, and of birch and mountain-ash, trees on which the elk delights to feed; the bark of the latter is his especial dainty: I have seen copses in which out of some hundreds of stems there was scarcely one that did not show marks of his destroying teeth. In such a situation—a very common one—it is almost impossible to approach the elk from above. If they are not detected by peering over the bank, the only safe plan is first carefully to examine the farther side of the ravine, and then by making a long circuit to try to gain some high point thereon from which, with due observance of the wind, the hither side may also be inspected. I have known many native hunters, as hasty and impatient as their dogs, blunder down into such a steep thicket and effectually scare the elk before they sighted him. In fact, a judicious use of the many rocky knolls and steep acclivities which rise above the brushwood in the high-level forest of Norway is one of the principal features of stalking, for it is in the copses which clothe the sides of the watered dells and the basins of the mountain tarns that the deer are oftenest found. The main point is to sight the elk without disturbing him, after which it becomes a question of time and patience to get a shot. If he is not at first approachable, you must watch him until he shifts his position, and then try again; it is better to spend the whole day in getting up to a beast than to scare him and have to pass the next two or three days, and possibly more, in finding another. Stalking has the great advantage over loose-dog hunting that one need never be idle; elk when lying down may be frequently approached with great success, and if one is forced to wait until they move, such compulsory idleness is at all events fairly in the day’s work; it has in it the elements of excitement and continual hope, and is far better than merely killing time under a pine-tree or in a hay-house.

Although the stalker will find the high-level beats best suited to his work, he will be at times obliged to exchange their freedom and glorious air for the close monotony of the lower pine wood, especially for those long sombre stretches of it—half level, half slope—which so often lie between the margin of a lake and a range of towering cliff. Here he will find, as a rule, but little undergrowth or brushwood, but from among the moss-coated boulders many a tall, slender mountain-ash will be found springing up and flourishing wherever it can gain sufficient light and air. Such a place is a favourite resort of elk, who are generally aware of some steep pass among the cliffs by which they can regain the higher ground. Supposing the hunter to have settled to his satisfaction that there are deer in such a stretch of wood; supposing him to have found their fresh signs all over it, the bared wood of the ash-saplings showing white and the edges of the bark still bleeding, he has before him a most difficult task in the stalk. This is best effected by advancing in long zig-zags, working from the edge of the water to the highest point where the signs are visible, and vice versÂ. This must be done at the slowest possible pace, and with all his senses constantly on the alert. The thickly set stems of the trees will help to conceal him, but they inconsiderately render the same service to the elk. In this way half a mile of ground, taken in a straight line, may perhaps be covered in an hour, and during that time the intense attention must not be, in the slightest degree, relaxed; there must be no hurrying of the cat-like step nor careless planting of the foot, the rifle must be ready and the hand prepared to act on the instant. In this kind of work there is little more physical exertion than in sauntering along Piccadilly, nothing that is productive of muscular fatigue, and yet such is the tension of senses and nerves that, after a long spell of it, I have caught myself yawning with that peculiar tense, rigid yawn which has not the faintest connection with mental boredom, but generally betokens physical exhaustion; and I have seen my hunter—whose responsibility was of course greater than mine—lean and wiry as he is, growing visibly paler and wiping from his brow the dew of anxiety. And then in a moment, when one least expects it, if that can be said of a man who is always expecting it—but the apparent paradox is the strict truth—comes the climax: a glimpse of a huge dark grey mass amongst the dark grey stems of the trees, a momentary sensation of all the columns of all the temples in Egypt having risen to baulk one, and in another second one’s whole soul is concentrated in the effort to find a clear space among that timber labyrinth for the bright bead at the end of the barrels and the ounce of lead which it directs.

The Scandinavian elk has, I believe most unjustly, been branded with the epithet of stupid, probably owing to his uncouth personal appearance, which is certainly not suggestive of a brilliant intellect, nor do I deny that the bull frequently owes his safety to the superior wariness of the cow. But, irrespective of their keen senses of hearing and smell, the great deer will, when they have been scared and become, in some mysterious way, aware that they are being tracked, resort to all kinds of artifices to conceal their huge trail (of the conspicuousness whereof they seem to be painfully conscious), and to baffle and confuse the pursuer. A favourite trick, for example, is to wade or swim for a long distance when the simple route lies along the edge of a tarn or lake; another, to double sharply back at an acute angle and travel for a long way to leeward of their original line before resuming it; a third, to enter a river and work up the bed of it for several hundred yards before actually crossing; a fourth, to travel out of their way along a stony ridge where they leave no footing. I believe myself that these stratagems always originate in the brain of the cow, especially when she has a calf beside her. If they are not invariably successful, chiefly owing to our employment of another animal of equal nose and sagacity, they at least seem to me to exhibit a considerable share of reasoning faculty incompatible with stupidity. I find that my hunter is imbued with great respect for the intelligence of the elk, which he considers as not so far inferior to that of the bear; but of their eyesight he has not a high opinion. Where the lie of the land will admit of it, a forced march may sometimes be executed with great advantage when the elk have turned and are retreating down wind. On the very last day of last season we were following on low ground up wind the spoor of a bull and cow which had caught a glimpse of us, but were not much scared; after trotting for some distance they subsided, as we saw by the tracks, into a walk. But on reaching a spur of rock which jutted into the forest, the extremity of a ridge which ran up to a considerable height, they rounded it and at once turned down wind, thereby placing us in their rear to windward had we continued to pursue them. Without hesitation my Lapp hunter faced about, and after following the back trail for some way under the ridge, began to ascend the slope of the latter in a slanting direction at such a pace that I needed all my forty days’ training to keep up with him. As however I guessed what he was after, there was no need to ask questions, but simply to ‘keep wiring away.’

In about five-and-twenty minutes we reached the top of the ridge, which was quite open and mattressed with thick moss, on which we lay down. We are not given to talking much during the chase, and for ten minutes did not say a word. My business was to recover my wind for shooting, and I was content to leave the rest to the Lapp and Passop. I found that we were on the brink of a little cliff, perhaps eighty feet high, immediately under which was a fairly level terrace about a hundred yards broad and covered with birch-trees and brushwood, with a few Scotch firs at intervals; beyond this the ground dropped rather suddenly to the distant landscape. I had forgotten all about my rapid climb when the Lapp gently pressed my elbow and pointed to the left, and in a few seconds I saw the horns and broad back of a bull elk surge up amongst the brushwood. He was walking behind a very small cow who preceded him by five yards or so; we had got well ahead of them, and they were now approaching us down wind and without the slightest suspicion. The cow gave the line to the bull just along the edge of the bank where the terrace ended, and where the trees were thickest; by watching her I could tell where he would appear a few seconds later. Fortunately, just in front of us there was a clear space amongst the branches about as long as an elk’s body, and when the cow filled this gap I got the rifle up, and as soon as the point of the bull’s shoulder crossed the sight pressed trigger. He fell over at once and disappeared, all but one motionless horn, while the little cow danced in towards the cliff until she was close under us, and then made off. We found that the bullet had struck the centre of the base of the neck, and the elk had died so instantaneously that his hind-quarters were still hoisted up by the stem of a young birch against which he had fallen under the edge of the bank. Of course in this case, being fired from above, the bullet penetrated downwards, but in my experience, confirmed by that of others, the neck-shot is with elk always very deadly. Even when hit behind the shoulder they will sometimes travel a considerable distance, but when the lead strikes fairly in the centre of the broad neck, they usually drop within a few yards at the outside. In stalking, owing to the utilisation of knolls and other eminences already mentioned, a large proportion of shots are fired from above. Every big-game sportsman has his favourite battery, but it is as well to remember that the elk requires a heavy blow to knock him over and save the trouble of pursuit, and that the vitality of the bulls is often very great, especially just before the rutting season. When hunting in the low forest and with the loose dog, it is seldom necessary to fire at over a hundred yards, and in every rifle used for elk the fixed backsight and the bead, taken full and quickly, should together give this range. But on the higher and more open ground the shooter must be prepared to accept fair chances at much longer ranges up to, say, four hundred yards. At this distance or thereabouts, anyhow with the corresponding sight up, I have myself been several times successful. Most Englishmen will employ a hunter or attendant, but it is scarcely needful to say that, with thoroughly trained and steady dogs, either style of pursuit may be practised alone. In stalking, the leader may be conveniently fastened round a tree or bush while the shot is taken. The shooter must not be over-sanguine of sport. If he spares cows and very young deer, and gets from four to six bulls during his thirty or forty days’ season, he ought to be more than satisfied.