Hunting in the Cattle Country 



we saw the antelope at once, now stopping to 

 graze. Drawing back, we ran along some lit- 

 tle distance nearer, then drew up over the 

 same rise. He was only about 125 yards off, 

 and this time there was no excuse for my fail- 

 ing to get him ; but fail I did, and away the 

 buck raced again, with both of us shooting. 

 My first two shots were misses, but I kept cor- 

 recting my aim and holding further in front of 

 the flying beast. My last shot was taken just 

 as the antelope reached the edge of the broken 

 country, in which he would have been safe; 

 and almost as I pulled the trigger I had the 

 satisfaction of seeing him pitch forward and, 

 after turning a complete somersault, lie mo- 

 tionless. I had broken his neck. He had 

 cost us a good many cartridges, and, though 

 my last shot was well aimed, there was doubt- 

 less considerable chance in my hitting him, 

 while there was no excuse at all for at least 

 one of my previous misses. Nevertheless, all 

 old hunters know that there is no other kind 

 of shooting in which so many cartridges are 

 expended for every head of game bagged. 



As we knelt down to butcher the antelope, 

 the clouds broke and the rain fell. Hastily we 

 took off the saddle and hams, and, packing 



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