I3S 



RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



in a few minutes more, when it was close on midnight, we were warm- 

 ing" our hands at the great camp-fire, and hungrily watching the venison 

 steaks as they sizzled in the frying-pan. 



The morning after this adventure I shot an antelope before breakfast. 

 \\*e had just risen, and while sitting round the smoldering coals, listen- 



A PRONG-HORN BUCK VISITS CAMP. 



ing to the simmering of the camp-kettle and the coffee-pot, we suddenly 

 caught sight of a large prong-horn buck that was walking towards us 

 over the hill-crest nearly half a mile away. He stopped and stared fix- 

 edly at us for a few minutes, and then resumed his course at a leisurely 

 trot, occasionally stopping to crop a mouthful of grass, and paying no 

 further heed to us. His course was one that w^ould lead him within a 

 quarter of a mile of camp, and, grasping my rifle, I slipped off as soon as 

 he was out of sight and ran up over the bluff to intercept him. Just as 

 I reached the last crest I saw the buck crossing in front of me at a walk, 

 and almost two hundred yards off. I knelt, and, as he halted and turned 

 his head sharply towards me, pulled trigger. It was a lucky shot, and he 

 fell over, with his back broken. He had very unusually good horns; as 

 fine as those of any of his kind that I ever killed. 



Antelope often suffer from such freaks of apathetic indifference to 



