300 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



He had seen me, of course for antelope are the 

 most quick-sighted of all western game and, being 

 short of cartridges, I forthwith was impelled by a 

 ' contrairy ' fate to waste two of them on a long 

 running right and left shot at the buck without effect. 

 Returning to the Rim a mile or so further on, and 

 looking cannily over its edge, there, halfway down 

 its steep declivity, appeared to my hungry eye a fine 

 young black-tail buck, quietly feeding. It was a 

 sitting chance, but here Fate again took a hand, and 

 compelled me to fire my fourth and last cartridge 

 in order to finish the buck that was shot too far back 

 with my first barrel. Returning leisurely to camp 

 with an empty and useless rifle in my hand, and a 

 fine pair of deer-hams hanging on the saddle behind 

 me, of course I ran on to a bear, walking quietly 

 down a steep gulch, an ideal chance for a quiet 

 approach and certain kill. 



There must be some little imp not from above, 

 but from below that now and then, from pure 

 cussedness or an ill-timed sense of humour, delights 

 in producing incongruous and impossible sporting 

 situations. Here I had been riding this country, off 

 and on, for a fortnight or so, always with a rifle on 

 the saddle and plenty of cartridges in my pocket. 

 The very first time I found myself two miles from 

 camp without any ammunition was the very moment I 

 must needs run on to a bear, and a bear, moreover, 

 that had not seen me, and in a place easy of approach. 



There was, however, a chance left. I executed a 

 strategic movement to the rear, then a careful detour 

 down wind, then a headlong gallop back to camp, 

 and in half an hour or so I was back again where 

 I had last sighted Bruin, with a pocketful of car- 



