HUNTING THE PRONG-BUCK. 105 



were obliged to abandon our fruitless efforts 

 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 for- 

 ward in full blast and fury, some standing 

 still,- here and there one wheeling towards a 

 flank, or burning in a semicircle, round an 

 isolated hill. Some of the lines were flicker- 

 ing out; gaps were showing in others. In 

 the darkness it looked like the rush of a 

 mighty army, bearing triumphantly onwards, 

 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 across the river. It 

 was fortunate I stayed, as it turned out. 

 There was no regular ford where we made the 

 crossing ; we anticipated no trouble, as the 

 water was very low, the season being dry. 

 However, we struck a quicksand, in which 

 the wagon settled, while the frightened horses 

 floundered helplessly. All the riders at once 



