Hunting the Prong-Buck 117 



to every hard-working and successful hunter, we sat 

 for half an hour or so round the fire, and then turned 

 in under the blankets, pulled the tarpaulins over us, 

 and listened drowsily to the wailing of the coyotes 

 until we fell sound asleep. 



We determined to stay in this camp all day, so 

 as to try and kill another prong-buck, as we would 

 soon be past the good hunting grounds. I did 

 not have to go far for my game next morning, for 

 soon after breakfast, while sitting on my canvas bag 

 cleaning my rifle, the sheriff suddenly called to me 

 that a bunch of antelope were coming toward us. 

 Sure enough there they were, four in number, rather 

 over half a mile off, on the first bench of the prairie, 

 two or three hundred yards back from the creek, 

 leisurely feeding in our direction. In a minute or 

 two they were out of sight, and I instantly ran along 

 the creek toward them for a quarter of a mile, and 

 then crawled up a short shallow coulie, close to the 

 head of which they seemed likely to pass. When 

 nearly at the end I cautiously raised my hatless 

 head, peered through some straggling weeds, and 

 at once saw the horns of the buck. He was a big 

 fellow, about a hundred and twenty yards off; the 

 others, a doe and two kids, were in front. As I 

 lifted myself on my elbows he halted and turned 

 his raised head toward me; the sunlight shone 

 bright on his supple, vigorous body with its mark- 

 ings of sharply contrasted brown and white. I 



