Having picketed his horse and placed his saddle and bridle under the wagon with the others, Oscar joined the group about the fire, who were preparing to dispose of a second supper before going to bed—their long ride in the keen air having given them a most ravenous appetite. Oscar was as hungry as the rest, and never did he partake of homely fare with more relish than he did that night. The black coffee sweetened with brown sugar, and served up without milk, was equal to any his mother had ever made; the fat bacon was better than most beef, and the hardtack was to be preferred to pastry.
He ate his full share of the viands, and then rolled himself up in his blankets, and, with his saddle for a pillow, slept the sleep of the weary, until he was aroused by the voices of 138the teamsters, who, with the help of the Indian, had kept watch of the horses during the night.
A dash of cold water in his face, and a hasty breakfast, prepared him for the hunt, the details of which were arranged while the horses were being brought up.
“Now, Oscar,” said the colonel, as he sprang into the saddle and led the way toward a plateau that lay about two miles distant from the camp, “stay as close to me as you can, and if we don’t secure a specimen of something before another meal is served up to us, it will not be our fault. What do you intend to do with that rifle, I’d like to know?”
“Why, I am going to shoot a prong-horn with it if I get the chance,” answered Oscar.
“Take it back to camp, and tell the teamsters to take care of it until you return,” said the colonel. “It will only be in your way. Your revolver and lasso are what you must depend on this morning.”
Oscar hastened to obey, and, when he reached the camp, he found that the colonel 139had not brought his hounds along. As soon as he came up with the officer again he asked why he had not done so.
“We want to see some sport while our horses are fresh,” was the reply, “and the best way to get it is to run the game down ourselves. A dash of three or four miles will take all the breath out of them, and then we’ll give the hounds a chance. This afternoon we will try still-hunting, which has gone almost out of style, except among the Indians and a few white pot-hunters, and then you can use your rifle.”
During the ride to the plateau the colonel improved the opportunity to give Oscar some instructions in regard to the manner in which antelope were hunted, and the course he must pursue to make the hunt successful.
He showed him how to throw the lasso, and, although the boy tried hard to imitate him, he did it simply out of politeness, and not because he believed that he would ever be able to capture anything with that novel weapon.
He could throw the lasso with all ease as far as its length would permit, and sometimes the 140noose would go, and sometimes it wouldn’t. He was not very expert with the revolver either, and often wished he had held fast to his rifle.
When the hunting party mounted the hills that led to the plateau, Oscar obtained his first view of a prong-horn.
He was disappointed, as almost everybody is who sees for the first time something he has often read or heard about. He knew that the antelope seldom exceeds three feet in height at the shoulders, and that it rarely weighs more than sixty or seventy pounds; but still he did not expect to find it so diminutive a creature.
There were several small herds grazing quietly within range of his vision, and but for their color they might have been taken for so many sheep.
Having carefully marked the position of the different herds, the hunters drew silently back down the ridge, and following in the lead of the colonel made a detour of a mile or more, in order to reach some hillocks on the leeward side of the game, under cover of 141which they could approach some hundreds of yards nearer to the spot on which they were grazing.
On reaching this place of concealment, they dismounted for a few minutes to tighten their saddle-girths, arrange their lassoes and look to their revolvers; and, when everything was ready for the exciting chase that was to follow, they rode out on the plateau and showed themselves to the antelope.
The actions of the animals, who were thus disturbed at their quiet repast by the sudden appearance of enemies whose presence they had never suspected, astonished Oscar.
Instead of setting off in full flight at once, as he had expected they would, they one and all made a few “buck-jumps”—that is, sprang straight up and down in the air; and then, running together in a group, stood and stared at the intruders.
But when the colonel, with a wild Indian yell and a wave of his hat, dashed toward them at the top of his speed, they scattered like leaves before a storm, and made off at their best pace.
142Oscar followed close at the colonel’s heels, the gallant little black on which he was mounted easily keeping pace with the officer’s more bulky horse; and presently he saw a full-grown doe, with a couple of fawns at her side, break away from the others and direct her course across the plateau toward the lower prairie that lay beyond.
“There’s your chance, Preston!” shouted the colonel. “Shoot the doe and lasso the youngsters. You’ll never find finer specimens if you hunt until your hair is as white as mine. Go it, now, and don’t forget that the louder you yell the more fun you’ll have!”
The hubbub that arose behind him made Oscar believe that the other members of the party must be of the same opinion.
The chorus of whoops and howls that rent the air when the game was seen in full flight was almost enough to raise a doubt in his mind as to whether his hunting companions were friendly white men or hostile Indians.
 
Oscar shoots the Prong-horn.
143The colonel kept on after a magnif............