AFTER ANTELOPE
The wolf went over me and before he could turn, a shot rang out. The
captain had arrived on the scene.
The wolf threw himself in the air and fell with a thud upon the ground.
"I hope you will go a little slower next time," said the captain,
severely. "It's a wonder that you did not have your throat torn out."
It took me about a minute before I recovered so that I could say
anything, and then I had nothing to say, for it was a foolish and
dangerous performance.
"Why, don't you know that these wolves are about as dangerous customers
as you can find in the mountains?" he remonstrated. "This is certainly a
fine specimen, the king of the pack."
With some difficulty we got the wolf to the camp.
"Let's fool the boys if they are asleep," I said. They were sleeping the
sleep of the just and making a considerable racket about it too. I
leaned his wolfship in position against a rock and propped up his head.
Then I laid down for a moment. "Gracious, Tom!" I whispered, "what's
that over by that rock?"
"Where?" he cried, sitting up alarmed by my tone.
"There," I said, "don't you see?"
"Heavens, it's a wolf! Where's my rifle?" he cried.
"I'm going to catch it," I said, springing up.
"Wake up, Jim," yelled Tom, "Jo's gone crazy. He's going to catch a live
wolf."
Jim sat up and looked around. "You lumax," he said, "that wolf is dead.
You don't suppose a live wolf would stand for all this racket."
He went over to examine our prize. "Where did you capture him?" asked
Jim.
"Down the canyon," I said, "Santa and he had a mix up."
"In which Jo joined," remarked the captain, "a foolhardy affair, but I
can understand how Jo was carried away for the moment. As we get older
we become more cautious."
"I see where you landed on him a couple of times with your knife," said
Jim. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"If you are waking call me early, mother dear," I quoted.
"Never mind your poetry, the next time Brer Wolf calls, I'm going to
answer," said Jim.
"It will be a nice thing to add to our collection, along with the bear
skin," I remarked.
We found that Santa Anna was pretty well chewed up about the neck, and
the captain had to doctor him up and also do some surgical work.
As we sat around the campfire in the morning eating our breakfast, the
captain made a suggestion.
"I was thinking, Jim," he said, "that we might put in a day or two
hunting before we go on. If I remember rightly this is a pretty fair
section for game."
"It's a fine idea," said Jim, "let's start out to-day."
"I have done my share of hunting," I said, "and I think I will take a
rest."
"You have certainly earned it," replied the captain.
"The next time you cry 'wolf' to me, I won't pay any attention," said
Tom.
"All right, Tommy," I replied, "then I will have to think up something
new."
"Would it not be a good idea to split our party?" suggested the captain.
"I think it would," replied Jim.
"Then I and Tom will go back into the mountains," continued the captain.
"Jo and I for the plains," cried Jim.
"We will look for the mountain sheep," remarked the captain.
"Jo and I will look for antelope," said Jim.
"And look out for Apaches," said the captain. "Keep a sharp lookout for
any signs of smoke," he continued, "don't rush into an ambush. Keep in
the open, watch the ridges and the gullies."
"We will remember," promised Jim.
So we proceeded to saddle our mustangs. We had the heavy, easy riding
saddles called Mexican, with high pommels and also a high back of carved
leather; above the stirrups were also broad bands of carved leather.
Though heavy they were not in any manner hard on our tough little
ponies. The weight was also offset by the fact that we were light, and
compared to the stalwart Indians we must have seemed like mosquitoes to
our ponies.
We likewise took along a good quantity of jerked beef, enough to last us
several days and also some ground corn, for we were old campaigners
enough to prepare for an emergency even if everything appeared safe.
We also took our canteens with us. Being thus ready we swung into our
saddles.
"Good-bye and luck to you," waved the captain, as we started.
"Good-bye," we returned, and Jim laughingly added, "Take good care of
Tommy."
Down the rocky slope we went and then trotted slowly down the canyon,
sitting loosely in our saddles and moving to the gait of our ponies like
the cowboys, and not sitting straight like Uncle Sam's cavalry.
We found this the easiest way and it was not ungraceful; sometimes when
we were tired we rode sideways on the saddle, or with one leg over the
pommel.
We were in high spirits as we jogged down the canyon. We were feeling
fine and fit. Our constant life out of doors had enured us to hardships
and made us impervious to fatigue.
Our muscles were supple and tireless and we were also much better able
to endure thirst, cold, and hunger than we had been at first.
In a short time we reached the end of the canyon where grew the pine and
cottonwood trees.
"Let's fill our canteens here," advised Jim, "because when we leave the
canyon there is no telling when we will strike water again."
"All right," I said, and I swung off my horse and filled my canteen as
well as Jim's.
In a short time we left the canyon and rode out on the plains.
"It looks to me as if we might have rain to-day," said Jim.
"It would be a pity if we got wet," I laughed, "might spoil our fine
clothes and new sombreros. What makes you think it is going to rain?"
"You can generally count on that mackerel sky furnishing a rain," he
said.
"It looks pretty anyway," I said.
It certainly did, the blue morning sky being dappled with numberless
little clouds that gave a softness to the sunlight without dimming it to
a shadow.
"Let's keep near the foot hills," I said, "because the brush and rocks
give us some shelter and the antelope will not be so apt to see us."
"It's a good scheme," assented Jim.
So we rode southward through the broken country, crossing ravines,
riding through the scrub oaks and keeping a wary eye on the plains
below.
We had gone about five miles, when I called a halt.
"What are those specks way off there on the plain?" I enquired.
Jim took a long look in the direction that I had indicated.
"I can see them move," he announced, "they are antelope, all right."
"How far do you think they are?" I asked.
"About four miles, I reckon," said Jim. "It looks perfectly level, how
in the mischief are we going to get within range?"
Jim studied the situation for a while carefully.
"There is a ravine that runs into a gully," he said, "that appears to be
a half a mile south of them, though it may be further."
"We'll try it," I said.
So we made our way carefully, keeping ourselves screened as much as
possible by the brush and rocks. Finally we struck the ravine without
being observed by the antelope.
We rode down this, until it became a deep, narrow gully. In some places
the way was difficult, especially where the gully had been terraced into
water falls.
Occasionally our horses seemed to be standing on their heads as they
jumped their way down, nimble as goats. We had to tighten the back
cinches to keep the saddles from sliding forward.
"Talk about circus riding," I cried after I had come near falling off
when Coyote had jumped down five feet, "this is plenty exciting enough
for me."
After a while the gully became less broken and broader, the bottom
covered with sand, and tall grasses growing wherever there was a
foothold.
It was hot in the gully as the breeze was shut off and the sun looked
down directly upon us. It was "snug" too, because we felt secure from
being seen by any wandering parties of Apaches.
After we had been riding for about a half hour, Jim stopped his horse
and dismounted, throwing the bridle over Piute's head. "I am going to
reconnoiter," he said.
I watched him as he cautiously climbed up the wall of the gully and
looked over the edge through a screen of grass. Almost instantly he
dropped down again.
He motioned for me to dismount and I swung off, throwing the bridle over
Coyote's head, the ends just trailing on the ground. This is the only
kind of hitching post that a broncho needs.