Coursing the Prongbuck 



trying to break out of the herd, or whether 

 he was overcome by dim reminiscences of 

 buffalo-hunting in his Indian youth, I know 

 not. At any rate, after the doe he went, and 

 in a minute or two I found I was drawing up 

 to it. I had a revolver, but of course did not 

 wish to kill her, and so got my rope ready 

 to try to take her alive. She ran frantically, 

 but the old pony, bending level to the 

 ground, kept up his racing lope and closed 

 right in beside her. As I came up she fairly 

 bleated. An expert with the rope would 

 have captured her with the utmost ease; but 

 I missed, sending the coil across her shoul- 

 ders. She again gave an agonized bleat, or 

 bark, and wheeled around like a shot. The 

 cow-pony stopped almost, but not quite, as 

 fast, and she got a slight start, and it was 

 some little time before I overhauled her 

 again. When I did I repeated the perform- 

 ance, and this time when she wheeled she 

 succeeded in getting on some ground where 

 I could not follow, and I was thrown out. 



I have done a good deal of coursing with 

 greyhounds at one time or another, but al- 

 ways with scratch packs. The average fron- 

 9* 133 



