DROVES OF ANTELOPES, 135 
goes by the name of timber-snake, much larger and ‘totally 
different in color from the prairie rattlesnake, or massa- 
sauga, which is always black, and never exceeds eighteen or 
twenty inches in length. 
Having found no game in the timber, I struck out for the 
open land, and, riding several miles, I saw two small droves 
of antelopes. This beautiful animal is very difficult to 
stalk; but as there appeared to be no other means of get- 
ting on intimate terms with them, I hobbled my horse, and 
taking advantage of all intervening obstacles, managed un- 
seen to get within five hundred yards. Farther. approach 
now looked impossible, and I had almost relinquished the 
idea, when it struck me that, by making a slight détour to 
leeward, I could find shelter from a dip that appeared to 
lead in the direction of the game. On hands and knees, 
slowly I crossed the open, my stomach almost on the ground. 
The antelopes still continued feeding; so far they had not 
been alarmed. Twenty yards more would again place me 
under cover. He who wishes successfully to stalk game 
must never deem precaution thrown away. On the care 
with which you pass over an open space depends often the 
success of your labor. With a feeling of gratification I re- 
gained shelter, and such shelter as I was able to take the 
“twists and knots out of my legs and arms with the con- 
sciousness that I could do so without imperiling success. 
A few moments’ inspection of the game sufficed. With 
renewed care, slowly but steadily, I made for the shelter of 
an unusually high prairie-dog’s earth. From the back of 
it I would be within eighty or a hundred yards of my prey. 
The antelopes, perfectly ignorant of my presence, were 
quietly feeding, while occasionally one or two of the young- 
sters, like kids, would shake their heads at each other, rear 
up, or stamp with their feet, and make other grotesque 
threatenings of attack. The prospect of venison was now 
