Hunting the Prong-Buck 107 



avoid getting- tangled in the ropes and rolling down 

 in a heap. Moreover the fire was in such rough 

 places that the carcass could not be twitched fairly 

 over it, and so we could not put it out. Before 

 dawn we were obliged to abandon our fruitless ef- 

 forts and seek camp, stiffened and weary. From 

 a hill we looked back through the pitchy night at 

 the fire we had failed to conquer. It had been 

 broken into many lines by the roughness of the 

 chasm-strewn and hilly country. Of these lines of 

 flame some were in advance, some behind, some 

 rushing forward in full blast and fury, some stand- 

 ing still; here and there one wheeling toward a 

 flank, or burning in a semicircle, round an isolated 

 hill. Some of the lines were flickering out; gaps 

 were showing in others. In the darkness it looked 

 like the rush of a mighty army, bearing triumph- 

 antly onward, in spite of a resistance so stubborn 

 as to break its formation into many fragments and 

 cause each one of them to wage its own battle for 

 victory or defeat. 



On the wide plains where the prong-buck dwells 

 the hunter must sometimes face thirst, as well as fire 

 and frost. The only time I ever really suffered from 

 thirst was while hunting prong-buck. 



It was late in the summer. I was with the ranch 

 wagon on the way to join a round-up, and as we 

 were out of meat I started for a day's hunt. Before 

 leaving in the morning I helped to haul the wagon 



