124 Deer and Antelope of North America 



was out of range to linger around, shifting his 

 position as I shifted mine, until by some sudden 

 gallop or twist I was able to get close enough to 

 empty my magazine at him. 



When the shadows had lengthened, but before 

 any coolness had come into the air, I would head 

 for the appointed camping-place. Sometimes 

 this would be on the brink of some desolate little 

 pool under a low, treeless butte, or out on the 

 open prairie where the only wood was what we 

 had brought with us. At other times I would 

 find the wagon drawn up on the edge of some 

 shrunken plains river, under a line of great cotton- 

 woods with splintered branches and glossy leaves 

 that rustled all day long. Such a camp was al- 

 ways comfortable, for there was an abundance of 

 wood for the fire, plenty of water, and thick feed 

 in which the horses grazed one or two being 

 picketed and the others feeding loose until night 

 came on. If I had killed a prongbuck, steaks 

 were speedily sizzling in the frying-pan over the 

 hot coals. If I had failed to get anything, I would 

 often walk a mile or two down or up the river to 

 see if I could not kill a couple of prairie-chickens 

 or ducks. If the evening was at all cool, we built 

 a fire as darkness fell, and sat around it, while 

 the leaping flames lit up the trunks of the cotton- 

 woods and gleamed on the pools of water in the 

 half dry river bed. Then I would wrap myself 



