It was fully as exciting as Oscar thought it would be, but he did not take as much interest in it as his friends did, for he could not help feeling sorry for the terrified creatures, who had nothing but their speed to depend upon.

Like the rest, he urged his horse forward at her best pace, in order to obtain as good a view of the run as he could; but his sympathies were all with the game, and he could not repress a shout of exultation when he saw one of the antelope suddenly turn at bay and tumble the nearest hound over with a vicious prod from his sharp little horns.

The Camp in the Foot-Hills — Part 63

But, before it could repeat the blow, the other hound—the sagacious animals hunted in couples—pulled it down and ended its struggles in a moment.

The Camp in the Foot-Hills — Part 63

Three antelope were captured during the run; and, as both horses and dogs were pretty well tired out by this time, the hunters dressed their game on the spot, and then set out for camp. Supper was waiting for them, and they were hungry enough to do ample justice to it.

The Camp in the Foot-Hills — Part 63

There was still one way of hunting prong-horns that our hero had not tried, and when the colonel had smoked his after-supper cigar he proposed to show Oscar how it was done.

Leaving the rest in camp with the hounds, they rode back to the plateau on which they had first sighted game in the morning, each carrying his rifle slung over his shoulder, and in his hand a long pole, with a red handkerchief attached to it.

The animals they had pursued in the morning, having got over their fright, had returned to their feeding grounds, and the colonel’s first move was to attract the attention of some of them, which he did by riding slowly back and forth on the edge of the plateau.

Then he and Oscar dismounted, and, after hobbling their horses, planted their poles in the ground a few rods apart, and lay down in the grass to await developments.

The prong-horns watched all their motions with the keenest interest, and, as if by a common impulse, began circling around the fluttering handkerchiefs as if trying to learn what they were put there for.

Three of their number, one of them being the finest buck in the herd, very soon found out; for, the instant they came within range, the ready rifles cracked, and both the bullets went straight to the mark.