Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert, without game, and almost without water.  The buffalo had all disappeared, and deer were equally scarce.  We had to content ourselves on the dried meat which we had brought from the settlements.  We were in the deserts of the artemisia.  Now and then we could see a stray antelope bounding away before us, but keeping far out of range.  They, too, seemed to be unusually shy.

On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a swell in the prairie.  My companions were skeptical, and none of them would go with me; so, wheeling out of trail, I started alone.  One of them—­for Gode was behind—­kept charge of my dog, as I did not choose to take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes.  My horse was fresh and willing; and, whether successful or not, I knew I could easily overtake the party by camping-time.

I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object.  It appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail.  It proved more distant—­a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these upland regions.

A curiously formed ridge, traversed the plain from east to west.  A thicket of cactus covered part of its summit.  Toward the thicket I directed myself.

I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently up among the cactus plants, tied him to one of their branches.  I then cautiously crept through the thorny leaves toward the point where I fancied I had seen the game.  To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace of those beautiful animals, was quietly grazing beyond; but alas! too far off for the carry of my rifle.  They were fully three hundred yards distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope.  There was not even a sage bush to cover me, should I attempt to approach them.  What was to be done?

I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks, known in hunter craft, for taking the antelope.  Should I imitate their call?  Should I hoist my handkerchief and try to lure them up?  I saw that they were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful heads, and looked inquiringly around them.  I remembered the red blanket on my saddle.  I could display this upon the cactus-bushes, perhaps it would attract them.

I had no alternative; and was turning to go back for the blanket; when, all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-colored line, running across the prairie, beyond where the animals were feeding.  It was a break in the plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an arroyo, in either case, the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundred yards from it; and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.

Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope toward a point, where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the prairie level.  Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a broad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed of sand and gypsum.