As the late summer sun radiates down upon your face with penetrating strength, as if the sun is not yet ready to yield its power to the inevitable autumn, a cool mountain breeze descends from the high country delivering with it a brief moment of reprieve as it rattles the now yellow leaves of the quakies, and through the subtle sounds drifts the almost indiscernible whistle of the end of a far-off bugle, and with it, your heart and your optimism are full again with the promise of your good fortune which must surely be near. To hunt elk in
