Bench after bench he had ascended, and the higher he got the denser and more numerous became the aspen thickets and the more luxuriant the grass.  Presently the long black slope of spruce confronted him, with its edge like a dark wall.  He entered the fragrant forest, where not a twig stirred nor a sound pervaded the silence.  Upon the soft, matted earth the hoofs of the horses made no impression and scarcely a perceptible thud.

Wade headed to the left, avoiding rough, rocky defiles of weathered cliff and wind-fallen trees, and aimed to find easy going up to the summit of the mountain bluff far above.  This was new forest to him, consisting of moderate-sized spruce-trees growing so closely together that he had to go carefully to keep from snapping dead twigs.  Fox trotted on in the lead, now and then pausing to look up at his master, as if for instructions.

A brightening of the dark-green gloom ahead showed the hunter that he was approaching a large glade or open patch, where the sunlight fell strongly.  It turned out to be a swale, or swampy place, some few acres in extent, and directly at the foot of a last steep, wooded slope.  Here Fox put his nose into the air and halted.

“What’re you scentin’, Fox, old boy?” asked Wade, with low voice, as he peered ahead.  The wind was in the wrong direction for him to approach close to game without being detected.  Fox wagged his stumpy tail and looked up with knowing eyes.  Wade proceeded cautiously.  The swamp was a rank growth of long, weedy grasses and ferns, with here and there a green-mossed bog half hidden and a number of dwarf oak-trees.  Wade’s horse sank up to his knees in the mire.  On the other side showed fresh tracks along the wet margin of the swale.

“It’s elk, all right,” said Wade, as he dismounted.  “Heard us comin’.  Now, Fox, stick your nose in that track.  An’ go slow.”

With rifle ready Wade began the ascent of the slope on foot, leading his horse.  An old elk trail showed a fresh track.  Fox accommodated his pace to that of the toiling hunter.  The ascent was steep and led up through dense forest.  At intervals, when Wade halted to catch his breath and listen, he heard faint snapping of dead branches far above.  At length he reached the top of the mountain, to find a wide, open space, with heavy forest in front, and a bare, ghastly, burned-over district to his right.  Fox growled, and appeared about to dash forward.  Then, in an opening through the forest, Wade espied a large bull elk, standing at gaze, evidently watching him.  He was a gray old bull, with broken antlers.  Wade made no move to shoot, and presently the elk walked out of sight.

“Too old an’ tough, Fox,” explained the hunter to the anxious dog.  But perhaps that was not all Wade’s motive in sparing him.