Chapter 27 - The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid
Decoying an Antelope
They had not rested more than five minutes, when their attention was again attracted to the prairie. Another herd of antelopes! Strange to say, it was; and, like the former, these were making directly for the spring. The hunters knew they were not the same; for this herd was much larger, and there were several males in it, easily distinguishable by their forked horns.
The guns were again loaded, and Marengo was called up—lest he might frighten them off.
These, like the others, marched in order, in single file—led by a large buck. There appeared to be about thirty or more in this herd. They had, no doubt, been pasturing all day on some far plain, and were now on their way to the water, determined to have a good drink before going to rest for the night.
When they had arrived within four or five hundred yards of the spring, they turned slightly to the left. This brought them at once to the rivulet—where they entered, and having drunk, went out again, and commenced browsing along the bank. It was evident they did not intend coming any nearer to the butte, or the grove of willows, where our hunters had concealed themselves. This was a disappointment. All three had once more set their minds upon an antelope supper; and now their chances of getting it seemed every moment growing less—as the animals, instead of coming nearer, were browsing away from them over the prairie. There was no cover by which they might be approached. What, then, could the hunters do, but leave them to go as they had come?
But there was an expedient which suggested itself to the mind of Basil. He had heard of it from old hunters; and the curious conduct of the first herd, so lately shown in regard to the wolves, recalled it to his remembrance. He resolved, therefore, to try this expedient, and secure an antelope if possible.
Cautioning his brothers to remain quiet, he took up one of the red blankets that lay near. He had already cut a long forked sapling, and sharpened it at one end with his knife. He now spread out the blanket, holding it up before him; and, with his rifle in one hand, and the sapling in the other, he passed out of the willows into the open ground—keeping the blanket between him and the animals, so that his body was completely hidden from them. In this way he advanced a few paces, walking in a bent attitude, until he had attracted the attention of the antelopes. He then stuck the sapling firmly in the ground, hung the blanket upon its forks, and knelt down behind it.
An object so odd-looking, both as regarded form and colour, at once excited the curiosity of the herd. They left off feeding, and commenced approaching it—halting at short intervals, and then continuing to advance. They did not move in single file—as the former herd had done—but first one, and then another of the bucks took the lead, each wishing to make a display of his courage. In a few minutes one of the largest was within range; when Basil, who was lying flat along the grass, took sight at the animal’s breast and fired.
The buck leaped up at the shot; but, to the great disappointment of the marksman, turned in his tracks, and fled along with the rest of the herd, all of which had bounded off on hearing the crack of the rifle.
Basil beheld this with some surprise. He had taken deliberate aim; and he knew that when he did so, it was seldom that his rifle failed him. He had missed this time, however, as he thought, when he saw the antelope run off apparently unhurt; and, attributing his failure to the hurried manner in which he had loaded his piece, he took up the blanket, and turned with a mortified look towards his companions.
“Look yonder!” cried François, who still watched the retreating antelopes; “look at the wolves! Away they go after.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Lucien, “you have wounded the buck, brother, else the wolves would never follow. See! they are running upon his track like hounds!”
Lucien was right. The animal was hit, or the wolves would not have embarked in a chase so hopeless as the pursuit of a prong-horn; for, strange to say, these cunning creatures can tell when game has been wounded better than the hunters themselves, and very often pursue and run it down, when the latter believes it to have escaped! It was evident, therefore, that Basil had hit the animal—though not in a deadly part—and the wolves were now following with the hope of hunting it down.
A new idea came into Basil’s mind. He thought he might yet be in at the death; and with this idea he ran up to his horse, drew the picket-pin, and leaping upon his bare back, directed him after the chase. He was soon in full gallop over the prairie, keeping the wolves in sight as he went. He could see the antelope, he had fired at, some distance ahead of the wolves, but far behind the rest of the herd, and evidently running heavily and with pain.
It cost the young hunter a five-mile gallop; and, at the end of that, while he was yet half-a-mile in the rear, he saw the wolves come up with the wounded antelope, and drag it down upon the prairie. He made all the haste he could—putting Black Hawk to the top of his speed. In a few minutes he was upon the ground, and scattered the wolves as he galloped among them; but once more he had arrived too late. The body of the antelope was torn to pieces, and more than half devoured; while only half-picked bones and pieces of skin remained to reward him for his long ride!
With an ejaculation, which came very near being a French oath, the disappointed hunter turned his horse, and rode slowly back—wishing the wolves far enough as he went.
When he returned, François assisted him in his maledictions; for François was tired of the bear-meat, and was vexed at being thus a second time cheated out of something fresh for supper.
Lucien, however, assured them both that the flesh of the antelope, as he had heard, was “no great eating,” after all; and this, in some degree, pacified them—so that, with a stew of the jerked bear and parsnips, and some piñon bread, which Lucien had prepared according to the Indian fashion, all three made a supper that was not to be sneered at under any circumstances. When it was eaten, they brought their horses closer to the camp—so as to have them near in case of necessity—and, having wrapped themselves in their blankets, they once more sought the refreshment of sleep.