FLAGGING AN ANTELOPE
The days passed pleasantly and swiftly. It was not the season for
killing game, and except when fresh meat was required no hunting was
done. Nevertheless, there was work enough. Every day one man rode off
and made a long round of the basin looking carefully for the tracks of
cattle leading away from it. If fresh tracks were seen, the cattle were
followed, rounded up, and driven back to the home range.
The work on a ranch is never ended. The irrigating ditches had to be
looked after and the water from time to time turned on or off the
hay-fields or the garden-patch. Haying time would come before long,
and in that country hay was money, and worth more than a cent a pound.
When no work was pressing, Jack Danvers and Donald got on their horses
and rode down to the lake, and perhaps lay there on a little knoll and
with their glasses watched the young ducks swimming on the lake, or the
young plover, sandpipers and curlews that fed along its borders. The
first two or three times the boys went down there, all the young birds
hid, and the old ones made a great outcry, the curlews and plovers
flying over them and whistling shrilly as if to frighten them away;
but after a time the birds seemed to become accustomed to the boys and
to regard them as ordinary objects the landscape and no longer to be
feared.
One of Donald's early visits to the lake resulted in a situation
that gave him some discomfort and uneasiness, and cost him a pair of
boots and spurs. He saw a brood of young ducks in a little cove and,
intending to try to capture them, he ran into the water at the cove's
mouth to cut them off from going back into the lake. Almost before
he reached the edge of the water he sank so deep in the soft, soapy
mire that he wished to get back to firm ground, but found that he
could not stir. Jack had not seen what Donald was doing until he had
almost reached the water, and then he called to him to come back. He
now shouted to Donald to stand still. Then he ran back thirty or forty
yards to his horse and, mounting, rode to the edge of the firm ground,
and from there tossed his rope over Donald's head. Donald fixed it
about his chest, close under the arms, and Jack shortened the rope
and tried with his own strength to pull Donald out, but found that
impossible. He was fast in the mire and, while he did not sink, he
could move his legs not at all. Jack took a turn on the rope about the
saddle-horn and started the horse away gradually. This pulled Donald
over, but did not move his legs. Jack rode back again and got Donald's
horse, and threw that rope also over Donald's head; then, stripping off
his own coat, he tossed it to Donald and told him to wrap it around his
chest and so to make a pad against which the ropes could draw.
Having thus put in operation the precise thing that Hugh had done for
him five or six years before, Jack stood the two horses side by side
and slowly led them forward. The strain on Donald was severe. The pull
bowed him forward until his trunk was parallel with the sloping beach
and then suddenly, with a mighty pluck, he was drawn from the mud and
thrown heavily on the ground. Jack stopped the horses, and in a moment
the ropes were loosened and Donald recovered his breath. His legs were
uninjured, and Jack asked him how his chest felt.
"Whew! I feel as if a grizzly bear had been hugging me, and hugging
me tight! Honestly, I thought I heard my ribs crack just before I was
pulled out."
"Well, it's not very good fun. I had Hugh do that precise thing to me
once, when I was a little fellow, and I thought I was going to pull to
pieces."
"Do you mean to say that you ever did so foolish a trick as to walk
into a mud hole like that?"
Jack laughed.
"In my case it was quicksand, but the effect was the same. My feet and
legs from the knees downward were gripped fast and I couldn't get out.
I really don't suppose I ever came as near dying as I did that day. It
was just the accident of Hugh's coming into camp at the right moment,
and seeing and hearing me, that got me out of it. I think on that trip
I learned a couple of lessons about doing what I was told to that I
have never forgotten, and my instruction came in the shape of two huge
scares. Say, you seem to have shed your foot-gear in that mud."
"Yes," Donald replied. "If they had not let go, I would probably be
there still, or at least a part of me. You might have succeeded in
pulling the upper part of my body away, but my feet and legs would have
been down there yet."
"Well," said Jack, "there's no hope of recovering anything from that
mud. You'll have to get new shoes and spurs."
"Spurs I'll have to get, but I have shoes at the ranch."
It was two or three weeks after their elk hunt that the two boys, on
being told that fresh meat was again needed, decided that they would go
over to Willow Creek, twenty-five miles from home, where the Pick ranch
had an old cabin, and camping there would try to kill three or four
buck antelope. Donald was especially keen about that, for though in
previous trips to the United States he had killed one or two antelope
his experience with this curious and interesting animal was limited.
It was proposed that Jack Mason should go along. Each man would take
his saddle horse and while two would ride, the third would drive the
wagon, his saddle animal carrying the saddle being tied up to the hames
of one of the team horses. In the wagon they would take a tent and
three or four days' grub.
They started one morning in good season and were four or five miles
from the ranch before the sun showed its face over the high eastern
hills.
A little farther on, as Jack and Donald rode up on a low ridge, Jack
saw off to the left a yearling buck antelope, distant not more than
sixty or seventy yards, which gazed steadily at them. Jack pulled up
and motioned to Donald to get off his horse and kill the yearling,
which, notwithstanding their movements, stood looking at them. Donald
gave Jack his reins and stepped behind the horses, where he threw a
cartridge into his gun and fired at the antelope. At the report the
yearling trotted a few steps toward them, and Jack saw the ball strike
the prairie far beyond the animal. Again Donald fired, and again the
antelope advanced a few steps. Jack saw the second bullet knock up the
dust far toward the hillside.
"You're shooting too high!" he called to Donald; "you're seeing too
much of your foresight. Draw down a good deal finer and aim at the
point of his breast."
The third time Donald shot; and this time the antelope fell.
"Where did you hold for that last shot?" asked Jack, as the two rode up
to the fallen animal.
"Square for the breast," said Donald.
"Well, if that's the case, you must draw your sight still finer, for I
believe you hit that antelope in the neck, high up."
When they dismounted this proved to be the fact. The antelope's neck
was broken by a ball which had entered the throat only about three
inches beneath the head.
"Was this antelope insane?" Donald asked Jack, as they began the work
of dressing the animal. "Why did he not run away? Instead of doing that
he kept coming closer at each shot."
"That's easily explained. In the first place, the sun was shining
square in his eyes, and we were between him and the sun, therefore he
could not make out what we were. Besides that, you see he's a yearling,
and it's quite possible that he never before heard the sound of a gun.
Evidently it did not scare him at all."
"Well," said Donald, "I'm glad to have that explained. If you had not
told me how it was, I should certainly have believed that I had killed
a patient that had escaped from some antelope lunatic asylum."
"That conundrum was an easy one," laughed Jack. "One trouble with most
of us is that we look at things from our own little view-point, and
imagine that other creatures look at things as we do. You ought to talk
to Hugh about that. He's thought more about it than anybody I ever
talked to, and he's given me whatever ideas I may have."
By this time the antelope was dressed and the team had driven up close
to it. The carcass was loaded in and they went on again. About eleven
o'clock they crossed a little stream which was the last water they
would find until they reached camp at night, and they would have a long
drive of twelve or fifteen miles across a dry flat. Accordingly they
stopped here, unsaddled their horses and let them drink and feed, and
cooked themselves a cup of coffee. An hour later, hitching up again,
and with Jack in the wagon as driver, they started on; and an hour or
two before sundown reached the willow-grown bottom where their camp was
to be pitched.
As Jack and Donald were unhitching the team horses, Jack Mason, who had
been riding off to one side, galloped up and, dismounting and throwing
down his reins, jumped into the wagon and began rapidly to throw out
the beds, tent and tent-poles. Donald took the team horses down to
water, and the grub box and meat were lifted out. In a moment they had
picked out a place for the tent and were soon putting in the tent-poles.
"Before we unsaddle, Jack," Mason said, "you and I had better ride off
to take a look at some cattle that I see feeding on the prairie off to
the north. If they should happen to be Mr. Sturgis' cattle, we ought to
turn 'em back to the ranch. It seems to me I heard Rube speak the other
night of seeing some tracks leading off in this direction, but somehow
he lost the trail and couldn't find 'em. It may be that these are the
cattle, and if there's any beef among 'em they certainly ought to be
thrown back now."
"Right you are," said Jack. "Let's get the tent up and then we'll leave
Donald to pack wood and water and build the fire, and we'll go off and
look at the cattle."
Donald was ready to attend to the cooking so far as he could. There
really was not much to do, for they had brought some bread; and all
that was necessary was to cut and fry some meat, and boil the coffee.
Jack suggested that Donald might skin the antelope and get the meat
ready for frying. It would take the two Jacks only a short time to ride
over to the cattle, but if they proved to be Sturgis' cattle they ought
to be looked after. If they had located themselves up on the high bench
and were likely to stay there, there was no special reason for driving
them back into the Basin; on the other hand, if they were slowly
traveling away from the Basin they ought to be turned back.
When the boys reached the cattle--only fifteen or eighteen head--they
found that they were Sturgis' cattle, chiefly cows and young stock,
but with them four or five steers, some of which would be ready for
shipment that autumn. A careful look over the ground, and the discovery
of a more or less worn trail where the cattle seemed for several days
to have been going to water, made the men think that the animals were
not traveling, but would stay there, or thereabout, for some time.
"Well," said Jack Danvers, "I believe these cattle have stopped here.
Why not leave them alone, and keep an eye on them for the day or two
that we are hunting here, and then when we start back two of us can
drive them along to the ranch and turn them loose down by the lake?"
"I guess that's the thing to do," agreed Jack Mason. "Meantime, if they
should move away, one of us can pick up the trail and probably overtake
'em. I don't seem to remember any of these cows on the round-up, but of
course they were there."
"I remember that black and white cow and her calf, and that bob-tailed
bay steer over there. I think the day they were cut out was about the
time you went into town to interview your friend Claib Wood."
Mason laughed.
"I just envy you fellows the fun you had out of that little argument
that Claib and I had in town. I believe I've been better than a comic
paper to that round-up camp, and it didn't cost 'em anything, either."
When they returned to camp they found that Donald had been busy. The
beds were in the tent ready for unrolling; the antelope had been
skinned and meat cut for frying; the coffee had been boiled and was
standing in the ashes near the fire where it would keep hot. Donald had
unsaddled his horse and turned it loose with drag-rope, and had tied
the ropes of the two work horses to bunches of sage-brush.
"Bully for you!" called Jack. "This looks like business. Just as soon
as we picket our horses we can have supper."
The work of picketing the horses so that they could get as much grass
as possible and yet would not get tangled in one another's ropes was
soon over, and before the sun had set the simple meal was finished and
the dishes washed, ready for breakfast.
The night was clear and warm, with a full moon, and nothing disturbed
the rest of the hunters, though as they fell asleep they heard the
chorus of coyotes from the nearby hills.
It was not light the next morning when Jack Danvers heard Mason putting
on his shoes, and a moment later pushing aside the flap of the tent.
Jack also began to dress and in a very few minutes the two men were
preparing breakfast around the dancing fire. Dawn had come and was
swiftly spreading over the sky. Jack called to Donald, who groaned
a response but before long appeared at the fire just in time to be
saluted by Jack, who had returned from the stream with the bucket and
the coffee-kettle filled with water.
After breakfast, the three rode a little way to the north, where from
a high knoll they could see the cattle, placed just about as they had
been the night before; and then, turning east and passing through some
broken country, they came to a rolling plateau more or less interrupted
by ravines, where they saw not a few antelope. Most of these were
busily feeding on the higher ground and for a time the boys could see
no way of approaching any of them. Finally Donald and Jack Danvers,
leaving their horses, set out to crawl up a low swale which they hoped
might bring them within long shot of a herd of eight or ten antelope
guarded apparently by a big buck. They crawled and crawled under the
hot sun, and Donald thought that he had never been in any place where
it was so hot as this. Moreover, flies--small but very hungry--buzzed
about his head, and stung his neck and ears, and he seriously wondered
whether the antelope they were after were worth all this effort.
They were still a long way from the game when the little water-course
in which they were crawling spread out and became so shallow that it
was impossible to proceed farther without being seen.
"This seems to be our finish," Jack said, "unless you feel like
shooting at them at this distance; and if I were you, I wouldn't do it.
There's a possibility of hitting, but no more than that; and if you
miss, when these antelope run, everything that sees them will be on the
lookout and ready to run."
"It isn't likely that I could hit at this distance," answered Donald.
"I wish that they would come up nearer."
"I'm afraid wishing won't do you much good," laughed Jack.
"Say, I used to read about flagging antelope. Have you ever tried it?"
"No; I never have. I guess likely they used to do it in old times,
but I fancy in these days the antelope are too smart to be fooled by
anything like that. To be sure, I've seen antelope come back to look
a second time, or a third time, at something that they had seen but
couldn't make out; but I'm afraid the flagging business won't work."
"Well," suggested Donald, "why not try it anyhow? If we don't show
ourselves it isn't likely to scare them; and it's possible that they
may notice it."
"How are you going to work it?" Jack asked.
"This red handkerchief around my neck will do for a flag. But there's
nothing to tie it to except our two guns, and if it succeeds we ought
to use them for another purpose."
"Why, here," said Jack, "I'll take this rod from my rifle and we can
tie the flag to that."
Jack's rifle was fitted with tubes below the barrel and through these
ran the slender steel rod which might be used to drive out a shell, if
by any chance one should stick in the breech of the gun.
Jack took the rod from its place and tied Donald's handkerchief to one
end and then slowly raised it in the air and waved it in plain sight
of the antelope. For a short time they did not notice it, and then
an old doe faced around toward the boys and stood there looking; and
in a moment all of them were looking. Presently the old doe started
off on a canter to get nearer to the flag. She galloped for forty or
fifty yards, then stopped and looked. Then she turned and trotted off
a short distance, and turned and looked again; and then galloped up
still nearer. And what this old doe did all the others did. Presently
it seemed as if the buck took courage--as if perhaps he wanted to show
off before his family. He galloped up to within seventy-five or eighty
yards, and then, turning to the left, made as if he would circle around
this strange thing that fluttered to the wind.
"Now!" whispered Jack. "He may not come any nearer. If you can, hit him
when he is trotting; or, if you'll wait for him to stop, I believe you
can get him. I think I would wait; he'll probably stop before he has
gone far."
So it turned out. Before long the buck stopped and faced squarely
around, and Donald, with the memory of the previous night's shooting
in his mind, drew a very fine sight on the antelope's chest, low down,
and fired. The buck reared on his hind legs and, holding his fore legs
stiffly out before him, fell over backward. The does looked at him for
a moment and then scurried off like so many frightened rabbits, while
the boys, rising from the ground, stretched their cramped limbs and
stamped about to restore the circulation.
"That was another good shot, Donald. I'd like to know how you held, and
we'll see just where the ball hit."
"I drew the sight just as fine as I possibly could, and held on the
very lower edge of his breast. If the ball flew as high as last night
it seems to me it ought to have broken the lower part of his neck, but
if I held right, and the life line is as low as I fancy you say it is,
I believe that I must have hit his heart."
When they reached the buck, they found that Donald had done just that.
The ball had entered an inch and a half or two inches above the lower
level of the breast, and a little to one side of the breast-bone; had
pierced the heart and gone entirely through the antelope.
Jack shook hands with Donald.
"A good shot!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't be surprised if you could
beat us all with the rifle."
The shot had so thoroughly bled the antelope that it was unnecessary
to cut its throat, and when it was ripped up all the blood in its body
seemed to have gathered in the visceral cavity.
Before the antelope was dressed Jack Mason came up with their horses.
"My!" he exclaimed, bending over and resting on the saddle-horn as he
watched the boys at work, "that's a fine head. You don't often see one
like that. Why don't you take it, Donald, and carry it back to the old
country to ornament the walls of your baronial hall?"
"I believe I will, Mason," said Donald; "and when I get it hung on
those walls, I'll invite you and Claib Wood to come over and give us
your little barroom act. We can have lots of Western color in the
village where I live, with just a few of the properties."
Mason laughed.
"I believe it would have been better if I'd killed Claib," he said.
"You fellow's wouldn't have so much to josh about then."
The two following days spent at this camp resulted in the capture of
three more buck antelope, and the next morning camp was broken and
the wagon started back to the basin. Donald drove, while Jack Mason
and Jack Danvers rode well out on the prairie and rounded up all the
cattle they could see and drove them slowly toward the ranch. In the
early part of the day the cattle were slow to move, but after the sun
got hotter and more directly overhead they seemed to work along better,
and shortly after noon had the appearance of really striking out after
water, which, of course, in due time they found.
At the place where the road crossed the water Donald had stopped,
unhitched his team, taken off the bridles and tied the animals out to
feed; and Mason and Jack were delighted when they came in sight of the
camp to see Donald fussing about the fire and to find a good meal just
about ready.
A few hours later the cattle were turned loose just outside the big
pasture beyond the lake, and the little hunting party rode up to the
ranch, its mission accomplished.