“Dat is cumfer’able to tink upon,” remarked Henri.

“More comfortable to think o’ than to undergo,” said Dick; “but I s’pose there’s little chance o’ that.”

“Well, not much,” replied Joe Blunt, patting his horse’s neck, “but d’ye see, lad, ye niver can count for sartin on anythin’.  The deer and buffalo ought to be thick in them plains at this time—­and when the buffalo are thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly see the end o’ them; but, ye see, sometimes the rascally Redskins takes it into their heads to burn the prairies, and sometimes ye find the place that should ha’ bin black wi’ buffalo, black as a coal wi’ fire for miles an’ miles on end.  At other times the Redskins go huntin’ in ‘ticlur places, and sweeps them clean o’ every hoof that don’t git away.  Sometimes, too, the animals seems to take a scunner at a place, and keeps out o’ the way.  But one way or another men gin’ rally manage to scramble through.”

“Look yonder, Joe,” exclaimed Dick, pointing to the summit of a distant ridge, where a small black object was seen moving against the sky, “that’s a deer, ain’t it?”

Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestly at the object in question.  “Ye’re right, boy; and by good luck we’ve got the wind of him.  Cut in an’ take your chance now.  There’s a long strip o’ wood as’ll let ye git close to him.”

Before the sentence was well finished Dick and Crusoe were off at full gallop.  For a few hundred yards they coursed along the bottom of a hollow; then turning to the right they entered the strip of wood, and in a few minutes gained the edge of it.  Here Dick dismounted.

“You can’t help me here, Crusoe.  Stay where you are, pup, and hold my horse.”

Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastened to the horse’s nose, in his mouth, and lay down on a hillock of moss, submissively placing his chin on his forepaws, and watching his master as he stepped noiselessly through the wood.  In a few minutes Dick emerged from among the trees, and creeping from bush to bush, succeeded in getting to within six hundred yards of the deer, which was a beautiful little antelope.  Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all was bare open ground, without a shrub or a hillock large enough to conceal the hunter.  There was a slight undulation in the ground, however, which enabled him to advance about fifty yards farther, by means of lying down quite flat and working himself forward like a serpent.  Farther than this he could not move without being seen by the antelope, which browsed on the ridge before him in fancied security.  The distance was too great even for a long shot; but Dick knew of a weak point in this little creature’s nature which enabled him to accomplish his purpose—­a weak point which it shares in common with animals of a higher order—­namely, curiosity.