The Pronghorn Antelope 117 



the hills was very lovely. It was beautiful to see 

 the red dawn quicken from the first glimmering 

 gray in the east, and then to watch the crimson 

 bars glint on the tops of the fantastically shaped 

 barren hills when the sun flamed, burning and 

 splendid, above the horizon. In the early morn- 

 ing the level beams brought out into sharp relief 

 the strangely carved and channelled cliff walls of 

 the buttes. There was rarely a cloud to dim the 

 serene blue of the sky. By the time the heat had 

 grown heavy I had usually reached the spring or 

 pool, where I unsaddled the horse, watered him, 

 and picketed him out to graze. Then, under the 

 hot sun I would stride off for the hunting proper. 

 On such occasions I never went to where the 

 prairie was absolutely flat. There were always 

 gently rolling stretches broken by shallow water- 

 courses, slight divides, and even low mounds, some- 

 times topped with strangely shaped masses of red 

 scoria or with petrified trees. My object, of course, 

 was, either with my unaided eyes or with the help 

 of my glasses, to catch sight of the prongbucks 

 before they saw me. I speedily found, by the 

 way, that if they were too plentiful this was almost 

 impossible. The more abundant deer are in a 

 given locality the more apt one is to run across 

 them, and of course if the country is sufficiently 

 broken, the same is true of prongbucks; but 

 where it is very flat and there are many different 



