AMONG THE PRONGHORNS. 



B. R. BEYMER. 



It was nearing the middle of October, 

 and the open season on antelope was draw- 

 ing to a close, when my friend, A. C. 

 White, and I started out to hunt for ante- 

 lope in the sand hills on the Apishapaw 

 river, 30 miles Southwest of Rocky Ford. 

 After a long drive we reached the pros- 

 pective hunting grounds. As we pulled up 

 to the spring, our old camping ground, we 

 found a party there who had had no suc- 

 cess, and had decided to break cam. and 

 go home the next morning. We knew they 

 had not found the antelope range and 

 were glad of it, as our game would not 

 be so wild if left undisturbed. We looked 

 wise and kept mum, stretched our canvas 

 and got supper. 



We rolled in early and it seemed to me 

 I was hardly in bed when I heard the 

 other outfit getting breakfast. We soon 

 had our breakfast on the smoke and when 

 it was disposed of we saddled our ponies 

 and made for the hills. 



We had only gone about 2 miles from 

 camp and were riding leisurely, not dream- 

 ing game was near, when to our right, about 

 half a mile, I saw the sun glistening on a 

 big herd of antelope. I tumbled off my 

 horse and it didn't take White long to 

 get next. He had not seen the game, but 

 he smelt it, I told him what I had seen ; 

 we tied our horses and proceeded to in- 

 vestigate. 



I surveyed the hills and valleys between 

 the herd and us and picked out a course. 

 We then made off through the low places 

 vith silent tongues and beating hearts, and 

 soon reached the hill behind which was the 

 game. I peered over and found they had 

 fed South about 150 yards. I had marked 

 them exactly. 



I looked the herd over, and, to my sur- 

 prise, I knew them. For 3 years had I 

 seen their leader on different occasions, 

 and had longed to draw my ivory bead on 

 his breast. The opportunity had arrived. 



I crawled back to White and motioned 

 to him to follow me. When I had crawled 

 up even with the bunch I stopped and 

 whispered to White : "There is a buck 

 over this hill as big as a cow, I have been 

 trying for 3 years to get his head. I shall 

 let you have the standing shot, and if that 

 buck gets away, Mrs. White will be a 

 widow." White grinned. He arose and I 

 showed him his target. 



I knew the buck was doomed by the way 

 White's eyes glistened. It was an awful 

 moment, but it was too good to last longer. 

 White took careful aim and fired. I was 



on my feet in a second and at first thought 

 he had missed. The big buck started to 

 run and I threw down on him intending 

 to fix him the third time he hit the ground. 

 He took 2 jumps as if untouched, but 

 the third time he went up I saw him wilt, 

 I knew White's aim had been true and 

 instead of shooting him I turned and bored 

 another buck which was showing us a 

 cloud of sand mixed with hind feet and 

 legs. My aim was true and I saw him 

 stumble. I shot twice more but failed to 

 down him. White's buck had left the 

 bunch and stood on a little knoll, watching 

 us, too weak to run away, I saw my game 

 leave the rest and I knew we had him 

 also. In the meantime the big buck had 

 fallen and we went to him at once. We 

 dressed him, dragged him to a big cac- 

 tus and tied a handkerchief to it, so we 

 could find him later. Going to where I 

 saw my buck leave the herd, we flushed 

 him from a little gully, and shot several 

 times at him, but he went on. There in 

 council we decided that White should fol- 

 low the antelope and that I should cut in 

 ahead and kill my buck, as I knew about 

 where he would cross the hills. 



I had got nearly to where he should cross 

 when I almost stepped on a big rattle- 

 snake. I stopped to kill it and while thus 

 engaged the antelope passed about 200 

 yards ahead of me. I got to the top just 

 in time to see him go into a big ravine 

 about a quarter of a mile away. I waited 

 until White came up and we made for the 

 hill. I crawled up to the top and peeped 

 over. There stood the buck, looking back 

 to where we had been. I rested my elbow 

 on my knee, held about 6 inches over his 

 back and fired. He sprang into the air and 

 fell on his head. 



White stepped the distance, 290 yards. I 

 struck the antelope on the hip and the ball 

 went through him endways. We found that 

 m Y 38-70 had broken a shoulder the first 

 time I hit him. We dressed him and were 

 quickly in camp. Dinner over we drove 

 the wagon out and got our meat. We 

 dreamed of antelope all that night, but 

 early next morning were off for home, 

 satisfied with our luck. 



We reached home about 24 hours after 

 the other boys and sent each of them a 

 steak. W T hite had the grandpa of those 

 20, and a prouder hunter never lived, 

 as he hung the big fellow in a tree at 

 .home. White has since had the head of 

 the big buck mounted and it is the largest 

 head in these parts. 



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