CHAPTER XIII 
PRONGHORN OF THE PLAINS 
Great Plains to find that in the dark I had 
camped near the nursery of a mother ante- 
lope and her two kids. It was breakfast time. 
Commonly both antelope children nurse at 
once, but this morning it was one at a time. 
Kneeling down, the suckling youngster went 
after the warm meal with a morale that never 
even considered Fletcherizing. Occasionally he 
gave a vigorous butt to hasten milk delivery. 
Breakfast over, the mother had these young- 
sters lie low in the short grass of a little basin. 
She left them and began feeding away to the 
south. The largest objects within a quarter of 
a mile were a few stunted bunches of sagebrush. 
I moved my sleeping bag a short distance into 
an old buffalo wallow and watched her. She 
fed steadily up a moderate slope but was always 
in position where she could see the youngsters 
and the approach of anything in the unob- 
structed opening roundthem. This mother was 
not eating the abundant buffalo grass celebrated 
175 
if AWAKENED one morning out on the 
