H tinting the Pivng-Buck. 75 



Often I have killed prong-bucks while riding between 

 the outlying line camps, which are usually stationed a 

 dozen miles or so back from the river, where the Bad 

 Lands melt into the prairie. In continually trying long 

 shots, of course one occasionally makes a remarkable hit. 

 Once I remember while riding down a broad, shallow 

 coulie with two of my cow-hands — Seawell and Dow, 

 both keen hunters and amonor the staunchest friends I 

 have ever had, — rousing a band of antelope which stood 

 irresolute at about a hundred yards until I killed one. 

 Then they dashed off, and I missed one shot, but with my 

 next, to my own utter astonishment, killed the last of the 

 band, a big buck, just as he topped a rise four hundred 

 yards away. To offset such shots I have occasionally 

 made an unaccountable miss. Once I was hunting with 

 the same two men, on a rainy day, when we came on a 

 bunch of antelope some seventy yards off, lying down on 

 the side of a coulie, to escape the storm. They huddled 

 together a moment to gaze, and, with stiffened fingers I 

 ^ook a shot, my yellow oilskin slicker flapping around me 

 ^ in the wind and rain. Down went one buck, and away 

 went the others. One of my men walked up to the fallen 

 beast, bent over it, and then asked, " Where did you aim ? " 

 Not reassured by the question, I answered doubtfully, 

 " Behind the shoulder " ; whereat he remarked drily, " Well, 

 you hit it in the eye ! " I never did know whether I killed 

 the antelope I aimed at or another. Yet that same day I 

 killed three more bucks at decidedly long shots ; at the 

 time we lacked meat at the ranch, and were out to make 

 a good killing. 



