The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water, except where the ridge impinged upon the stream.  Here there was a high bluff; and, hurrying around its base, I entered the channel, and commenced wading upward.

As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, after running parallel to the ridge, swept around and canoned through it.  At this place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank.  The antelopes had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but they were yet far above my position.  They were still quietly feeding, and unconscious of danger.  I again bent down and waded on.

It was a difficult task proceeding in this way.  The bed of the creek was soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently, lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the prospect of fresh venison for my supper.

After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small clump of wormwood bushes, growing out of the bank.  “I may be high enough,” thought I, “these will serve for cover.”

I raised my body gradually, until I could see through the leaves.  I was in the right spot.  I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for the heart of the buck, and fired.  The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back lifeless.  I was about to rush forward, and secure my prize, when I observed the doe, instead of running off as I expected, go up to her fallen partner, and press her tapering nose to his body.  She was not more than twenty yards from me, and I could plainly see that her look was one of inquiry and bewilderment.  All at once, she seemed to comprehend the fatal truth; and, throwing back her head, commenced uttering the most piteous cries, at the same time running in circles around the body.

I stood wavering between two minds.  My first impulse had been to reload, and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me of all hostile intentions.  Had I dreamed of witnessing this painful spectacle, I should not have left the trail.  But the mischief was now done.  “I have worse than killed her,” thought I, “it will be better to despatch her at once.”

Actuated by these principles of common, but to her fatal, humanity, I rested the butt of my rifle, and reloaded.  With a faltering hand, I again leveled the piece and fired: 

My nerves were steady enough to do the work.  When the smoke floated aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass—­her head resting upon the body of her murdered mate.

I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when, to my astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet.  I was held firmly as if my legs had been held in a vice.