CAMPING ON THE PLAINS 83 



one of them called, pleasantly, as he viewed my 

 equipment scattered around the water hole. 



"The kid has more kitchenware than the cook 

 at our cow camp," said the other kindly but 

 merrily as they rode off. 



The prairie dogs were yapping and scampering 

 about and I threw my belongings into a heap 

 and went toward the nearest dog town. They 

 were excited over my presence: sat up and barked 

 and chattered, and I am certain used bad 

 language because I did not move on. When I 

 approached nearer than twenty feet they ducked 

 into their holes. They looked and acted more 

 like fat woodchucks than dogs. 



In a shallow ravine near camp I came close to a 

 mother antelope and her two kids. She made 

 the youngsters lie down the instant she saw me 

 and then edged off, plainly with the hope of 

 leading me to follow. But I wanted a closer 

 view of the kids. 



When I reached the spot where I supposed 

 them lying I could not see them. A young ante- 

 lope blends with the plains, plants, and soil so that 

 it is well hidden when it flattens down. I stum- 

 bled over one of the youngsters. He leaped up 

 and then I spied the second. But not until I 

 had touched it with my hand did it quit playing 

 dead and rush off with the other toward the 

 mother. 



