THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ANTELOPE, 



I cannot tell you the exact date of 

 my birth. As I was separated from my 

 mother at a very early age, this lack of 

 knowledge on my part, i think, should 

 be excused. But Polly has often told 

 me it was the second day of April, 1866, 

 that I came into her possession. 



On that particular morning the wind 

 was very high and had a stinging bite in 

 it and my mother, after giving me my 

 breakfast, left me nestled down in a 

 bunch of tall, dry grass, and went out 

 for her own breakfast. 



I soon fell asleep. How long I had 

 slept I do not know, when I was sud- 

 denly aroused from my comfortable nap 

 by a large, dark animal snorting right 

 over me. Of course, I was very much 

 frightened and wished my mother would 

 come to me. If I had not been so shaky 

 on my legs I would have run away in 

 search of her, but my feet had an un- 

 comfortable way of getting too far apart, 

 and my body seemed entirely too heavy 

 for my legs ; so I lay very still, hoping 

 that this strange object might pass on 

 and not disturb me. But a few mo- 

 ments later there bent over me what I 

 soon after learned was a man. 



''Hello!" he said, ''here is a baby an- 

 telope. There — don't struggle so, or you 

 will break your pipe-stem legs." 



Soon I found that it was useless for 

 me to try to free myself from his grasp, 

 for while he was not at all rough, he 

 held me quite firmly. Then I began to 

 shiver from fear; also from the cold 

 wind. 



"Poor little fellow — he is cold," the 

 man said, soothingly, and he took a 

 blanket from the pommel of his saddle 

 and wrapped it around me. Then, mount- 

 ing his horse, with me still in his arms, 

 we set out across the prairie. After about 

 half an hour he stopped at a gate, where 

 there were several log cabins huddled 

 together. 



"Polly! Come here, Polly!" the man 

 called, and a little flaxen-haired girl 

 came running from one of the cabins. 



"What is it, papa?" she called, as she 

 opened the heavy gate. 



"It is a new pet for you — a baby ante- 

 lope," and he handed me down to her. 



Polly put me on the ground and lifted 

 the blanket from around me. 



"Oh, the funny little darling!" she 

 cried. "Papa, he is all legs and spots, 

 and — and ears." 



"Yes," the man replied; "he will soon 

 lose his spots, but his legs and ears will 

 stay with him, and it won't be very long 

 until he will show you how he can use 

 those long legs of his." 



The man rode away, and Polly carried 

 me into the house, where everybody han- 

 dled and looked at me, all of which made 

 me feel forlorn indeed. But when Polly 

 put me into a box half full of nice, clean 

 hay, in a sunny nook between two of the 

 cabins, I felt that the best thing for me 

 to do was to lie down and go to sleep. 



After a comfortable nap I awoke, i 

 ing very hungry, and began to call feebly 

 for my mother. But it was Polly, hence- 

 forth my foster mother and beloved 

 friend, that came in answer to my call. 

 She carried me into the kitchen, where 

 a bottle, with a quill wrapped with a soft 

 rag for a stopper, was standing by the 

 fire. Polly took the bottle and put the 

 stopper into my mouth. The rag was 

 not pleasant to my taste, and the quill, 

 although disguised by many soft wrap- 

 pings, was hard and unyielding. Natur- 

 ally, I objected, but Polly persisted, and 

 after a while I got a taste of the warm 

 milk that flowed through the quill. Then 

 I ceased to struggle and proceeded to 

 take my dinner in the only way I knew. 



At an early age I was taught to eat 

 cornmeal and wheat bran, both of which 

 I liked very much. 



Soon the yard became entirely too 

 small for me. I longed to go outside, 

 where there was room for me to use my 

 legs, and I got to watching for the gate 

 to be opened. Polly noticed my desire 

 to get outside the gate, and one day 

 when I was standing near it, looking out 

 through a crack in the fence, she came 

 and put her arms around my neck. 



"Lopez," and her voice had a note of 

 sadness in it that I had never heard be- 



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