HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 125 



let them feed; sometimes they vanish in the first gray 

 light of dawn. 



On the Turin plain we had a delightful glimpse of 

 antelope babyhood. The great herds which we had 

 found were largely composed of does just ready to drop 

 their young, and after a few days they scattered widely 

 into groups of from five to twenty. 



We found the first baby antelope on June 27. 

 We had seen half a dozen females circling restlessly 

 about, and suspected that their fawns could not be far 

 away. Sure enough, our Mongol discovered one of the 

 little fellows in the flattest part of the flat plain. It 

 was lying motionless with its neck stretched out, just 

 where its mother had told it to remain when she saw us 

 riding toward her. 



Yvette called to me, "Oh, please, please catch it. We 

 can raise it on milk and it will make such an adorable 

 pet." 



"Oh, yes," I said, "let's do. I'll get it for you. You 

 can put it in your hat till we go back to camp." 



In blissful ignorance I dismounted and slowly went 

 toward the little animal. There was not the slightest 

 motion until I tossed my outspread shooting coat. 

 Then I saw a flash of brown, a bobbing white rump- 

 patch, and a tiny thing, no larger than a rabbit, speed- 

 ing over the plain. The baby was somewhat "wab- 

 bly," to be sure, for this was probably the first time 

 it had ever tried its slender legs, but after a few hun- 

 dred yards it ran as steadily as its mother. 



I was so surprised that for a moment I simply stared. 



