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From a painting by Carl Rungius 
Prong horned antelope 
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Dwellers of the Open Country 
Once All But Extinct, Antelope Are Now Increasing in 
Numbers Sufficient to Warrant the Hope That at Some 
Future Date They May Be Reinstated on the Game List 
Y first experience of sport on 
M the plains of our great west 
and in the fastnesses of its 
rugged mountain ranges, dates back 
some thirty years. Like many other 
young men, I was then hardly more 
than a boy, both from the Eastern 
states and from England, the free ac- 
tive life of the cattle country had a 
fascination wholly irresistible, to one 
devoted to an active life in the open. 
Life on a big Wyoming ranch, in the 
foothills of the Rockies, gave one many 
epportunities for sport with both large 
and small game, and when time per- 
mitted, no chance was missed for a day 
after antelope in the open country, or 
a trip back into the hills for blacktail 
deer. Elk were even then only obtain- 
able when a few days could be taken 
for a hunt well back into the moun- 
tains. However, in the autumn after 
the beef round up was over, a good 
hunt of this kind was generally made 
to stock up the ranch with winter meat. 
By CAPTAIN BEVERLEY W. ROBINSON 
Quite apart from the fairly frequent 
opportunities for sport with gun, rod, 
or rifle, ranch life, whether devoted 
mainly either to horses or cattle, had 
much in it to charm a lover of the 
great out-of-doors. And in spite of 
the really hard and oftimes exhausting 
work, few who have ever had a taste 
of the life, look back to it with feel- 
ings of aught but pleasure and a fre- 
quent longing for another good gallop 
over those endless prairies and a breath 
of that pure invigorating air. 
The prong-horned antelope was, at 
the time of which I write, very plenti- 
ful, and afforded frequent opportuni- 
ties for the stalker to test his skill in 
making long shots with the rifle. 
SCATTERED a great many bullets 
over the plains before bringing down 
my first antelope; but in this I do not 
think that my experience was the ex- 
ception, but rather the rule, particu- 
larly for one new to this form of hunt- 
“ing, or a “tenderfoot,” as I then was. 
Many things had to be contended 
with. I was hunting alone, and in a 
country entirely new to me, one of the 
keenest, most sharp-sighted, and shy- 
est of American game animals. 
HE nature of the country most fre- 
quented by antelope, as a rule, af- 
fords the scantiest of cover for the 
hunter, and, until one becomes accus- 
tomed to it, the extraordinarily clear 
atmosphere leads one at first to under- 
estimate greatly the range at which 
his shots are taken. 
Indeed, any sportsman first visiting 
our western plains or mountains, may 
profitably employ any spare moments 
after his arrival in estimating dis- 
tances, and he will be surprised how, 
at first, that small prairie dog’s hill 
that he mentally puts down at 150 
yards, requires nearly 300 of his paces 
before he reaches it. 
Though the march of civilization and 
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