Hunting the Prong-Buck 101 



ground I knew. The old horse threaded his way at 

 a lope along the familiar game trails and cattle 

 paths ; in a couple of hours I caught the gleam from 

 the firelit windows of the ranch house. No man 

 who, for his good-fortune, has at times in his life 

 endured toil and hardship, ever fails to appreciate 

 the strong elemental pleasures of rest after labor, 

 food after hunger, warmth and shelter after bitter 

 cold. 



So much for the winter hunting. But in the fall, 

 when the grass is dry as tinder, the antelope hunter, 

 like other plainsmen, must sometimes face fire in 

 stead of frost. Fire is one of the most dreaded ene 

 mies of the ranchmen on the cattle ranges ; and fight 

 ing a big prairie fire is a work of extraordinary 

 labor, and sometimes of danger. The line of flame, 

 especially when seen at night, undulating like a ser 

 pent, is very beautiful; though it lacks the terror 

 and grandeur of the great forest fires. 



One October, Ferguson and I, with one of the 

 cow-hands, and a friend from the East, took the 

 wagon for an antelope hunt in the broken country 

 between the Little Missouri and the Beaver. The 

 cowboy drove the wagon to a small spring, near 

 some buttes which are well distinguished by a num 

 ber of fossil tree-stumps ; while the rest of us, who 

 were mounted on good horses, made a circle after 

 antelope. We found none, and rode on to camp, 

 reaching it about the middle of the afternoon. We 



