the river.
From several sand dunes their landing on the opposite bank near the
ending of the salt plain could be distinctly seen. As they came out
of the river, half a dozen six-shooters were paying them a salute in
lead; but the excitability of the horses made aim uncertain, and they
rounded the cut-bank at the upper end and escaped.

While the deer were making their escape, a band of antelope were
sighted sunning themselves amongst the sand dunes a mile below;
attracted by the shooting, they were standing at attention. Now when
an antelope scents danger, he has an unreasonable and unexplainable
desire to reach high ground, where he can observe and be observed--at
a distance. Once this conclusion has been reached, he allows nothing
to stop him, not even recently built wire fences or man himself, and
like the cat despises water except for drinking purposes. So when
this band of antelope decided to adjourn their _siesta_ from the warm,
sunny slope of a sand dune, they made an effort and did break the
cordon, but not without a protest.

As they came out of the sand dunes, heading straight for the line,
all semblance of control was lost in the men. Nothing daunted by the
yelling that greeted the antelope, once they came within range fifty
men were shooting at them without bringing one to grass. With guns
empty they loosened their ropes and met them. A dozen men made casts,
and Juan Mesa, a Mexican from the Eagle Chief, lassoed a fine buck,
while "Pard" Sevenoaks, from the J+H, fastened to the smallest one
in the band. He was so disgusted with his catch that he dismounted,
ear-marked the kid, and let it go. Mesa had made his cast with so
large a loop that one fore leg of the antelope had gone through, and
it was struggling so desperately that he was compelled to tie the rope
in a hard knot to the pommel of his saddle. His horse was a wheeler on
the rope, so Juan dismounted to pet his buck. While he held on to the
rope assisting his horse, an Eagle Chief man slipped up and cut the
rope through the knot, and the next moment a Mexican was burning the
grass, calling on saints and others to come and help him turn the
antelope loose. When the rope had burned its way through his gloved
hands, he looked at them in astonishment, saying, "That was one bravo
buck. How come thees rope untie?" But there was none to explain,
and an antelope was dragging thirty-five feet of rope in a frantic
endeavor to overtake his band.

The line h