Imagine you're in Wyoming, hunting pronghorn antelope and elk after a 10-day stretch of incessant rain.

Strange culmination, I know.

The desert terrain around you is so soggy you can't drive off main roads.

So you've hiked two and a half miles into prime pronghorn country.

Fog rolls through a massive bank as the storm releases its grasp, and it's so thick that

you and your buddy can use it for stocking cover, as long as you don't get caught in the

open when a break blows through.

A good pronghorn buck shows, 198 yards away and facing you straight on.

He's aware that something's not right.

Torn by curiosity and concern, he stands staring a few seconds too long.

An 150-grain Barnes-tipped triple-shock bullet fired from your 280-acly improved rifle catches him right at the base of his throat,

crumpling him without a twit.

After a grueling packout with that antelope hung by his feet from a pole, because you

neglected to bring your backpacks, you later find the perfect mushroomed bullet lodged

under the skin next to his tail, having penetrated,

gosh, more than three feet of antelope. This is your first kill with a two-ediacly, and it's a great

confidence builder, inspiring trust in your new rifle and faith that your choice of bullet will do just fine on a big bull elk.

Now a few days later you get a chance to find out.

A lone atypical bull, meaning he's a 4 by 6 with a broken pedicle and a deformed antler on the 4 point side,

well, he's standing 519 yards across a giant canyon.

There's no way to close the distance.

Getting into a rock-steady shooting position, you confirm there's no wind.

...