"I dunno. They look sort of like deer, but they ain't deer."
Joe got his rifle and turned to Emma. "You and Bobby feed the youngsters
and have your own supper, will you? Expect Tad and me when we get back."
To Tad he said, "Show me where they are!"
Tad tied Mike to the wagon wheel and led the way up the knoll. He
slipped down the other side, and Joe noted with pride that he walked
carefully. He avoided rustling grass and stones, anything at all that
might make a noise. Joe reflected that, one day, Tad would be a
wonderful hunter. Tad crawled up the opposite knoll as carefully as he
had descended the first and stopped. He pointed.
"They're just on the other side," he whispered. "There's four of 'em."
"Come on, son."
They dropped to their hands and knees and crawled very slowly. Nearing
the crest of the knoll, they wriggled on their bellies. With only their
heads showing, they looked down the other side of the knoll. Tad
whispered,
"There they are!"
The knoll sloped into a shallow gulley that was about three hundred
yards long by two hundred wide. Joe saw the animals, a big buck with
three does, and though he himself had never before seen any, he knew
from the descriptions of people who had been west that they were
pronghorns, or antelope. His practiced hunter's eye told him that they
were already suspicious; they had either seen Tad or else they had seen
Joe and Tad. They were grazing nervously near the far end of the gully,
hopelessly out of range.
"They were a lot closer before," Tad whispered.
"Sh-h! Maybe they'll come nearer!"
Joe lay perfectly still, trying desperately not even to wink an eye as
he watched the antelope. By sheer force of will he yearned to draw them
closer. One of them, just one, and his family would have enough food
again. One of the does slashed at another with an angry hoof, and they
drifted a little farther away. Joe began to worry. In another twenty
minutes it would be too dark to shoot. He whispered,
"We have to do something!"
"Yes?"
"Do you know right where they are, Tad?"
"Sure."
"Can you slip down this knoll, see if you can work around behind 'em,
and scare 'em toward me?"
"Sure, Pa."
Tad slipped away and Joe concentrated his fierce, yearning gaze on the
antelope. He must not miss. They had to have one of the antelope, and
the thought made him tense. Joe forced himself to relax so that he would
be able to shoot more truly. Minute by minute, the night shadows
lowered. The rifle's sights were already beginning to blur when the
antelope moved.
They sprang away suddenly, but instead of running toward Joe, they
quartered across the gully. Knowing that they were still out of range,
but wanting desperately to get one, Joe aimed at the running buck. He
squeezed the trigger, and the rifle belched red flame into the
gathering twilight. But the antelope continued to run.
Joe stood up, sweating, and it was as though a heavy weight was suddenly
upon his heart. He felt a little nauseated, and he wet dry lips with his
tongue. It seemed, somehow, that he was guilty of a terrible and
unforgivable sin. But even while he berated himself, Joe knew pride when
Tad appeared where he should have been. The youngster had done his part
exactly right. It was no fault of his if the antelope had run exactly
wrong.