ALTHOUGH George and Victor Shelton parted for the time from Deerfoot with regret, it cannot be said that either felt any misgiving. There could be no doubt of the Shawanoe’s ability to track them all the way to the Pacific if necessary, for the trail would be plain except when they took to the water, which was not likely to be for a long time to come. Moreover, Mul-tal-la had said that little was to be feared from the Indians of the country through which they must make their way. Had the boys been alone danger might threaten, for most of the hunters and trappers who penetrated those vast solitudes looked upon and treated the red men as their enemies, and naturally were thus looked upon and treated in their turn.

The Blackfoot and his companion met with no trouble of this nature on their eastward journey. They were always able to make clear their meaning by signs, and the fact that the two belonged to the same race with the different tribes was a sufficient passport. It seemed reasonable, therefore, to believe that the presence of Mul-tal-la gave all the protection that could be needed.

The Blackfoot took Deerfoot’s place as leader, the brothers riding a little to the rear, with Zigzag plodding in his usual indifferent fashion. Just now the chief concern of the boys was as to how they were to obtain a meal, for the thought of going to sleep without food was intolerable.

To the left, in the direction of the foothills, they descried a half-dozen elk browsing; but the game were as timid as antelopes, without their fatal defect of overwhelming curiosity, and they made off long before our friends could get within range. Several miles to the eastward a dark undulating mass which covered hundreds of acres showed where another vast herd of bison were moving southward. Victor was disposed to ask Mul-tal-la to change their course so as to get a shot at one of the animals, but his brother urged him to wait in the hope of a better chance to bring down something edible.

An hour later this chance presented itself. Three graceful antelopes came in sight as the horsemen rode over an elevation. They were cropping the grass on the slope of a hill nearly a half-mile distant. George brought his glass to his eye and saw that the alert creatures had already caught sight of them. They were standing with heads erect and staring at the strangers, ready to dash off like the wind on the first demonstration or further move toward them.

“There’s our supper!” exclaimed Victor, as the three halted, for the Blackfoot was also interested in the sight. “I know they aren’t the best food in the world, but I’m too hungry to be particular. Mul-tal-la, how are we to manage it?”

“I will let my brother shoot one of them,” replied the Blackfoot, who, as you know, had caught Deerfoot’s manner of speech.

“That suits me. George, you don’t mind. It will be your turn next time.”

“I’m satisfied,” returned his brother; “but you must remember and not let your impatience run away with you. Keep cool or we shall have to go without supper.”

“Don’t fear for me,” remarked the ardent Victor, who slipped out of the saddle and set off without delay; “I know what’s at stake.”

Had he gone directly toward the antelopes they would have been off on the instant. Instead, he went back over the ridge just crossed, thus interposing that screen between him and the animals. By following this he could approach within a fourth of a mile of the game, and from that moment the utmost caution and skill would be necessary. His brother and the Blackfoot withdrew so as to occupy a position on the crest of the elevation, where they could observe the actions of Victor from the beginning and at the same time keep an eye upon the antelopes themselves.

The latter fixed their attention upon the point where the horsemen had first come into view, hesitating whether to break away in swift flight or to wait until they could gratify their resistless curiosity. George Shelton and Mul-tal-la had dismounted, and lying down in the grass, took care not to show themselves, through fear of alarming the game, for, if the antelopes should make off, slight chance of securing a meal would remain.

Meanwhile Victor was stealing along the ridge until, as he judged, he had reached a point nearly opposite the animals, who were a furlong distant. Then he crept up the elevation, whose crest fortunately was crowned with the same exuberant growth of grass that grew in the valley beyond.

So painstaking was he that his friends lost sight of him and did not know when he was at the crest of the elevation until the antelopes showed by their excitement that they had detected him. They had resumed cropping the grass, when all three abruptly raised their heads and dashed off at the height of their astonishing speed. A moment later Victor was seen running down the slope until a little beyond the base, when he dropped on his face.

Immediately after, while his body was screened from sight, he raised the ramrod of his rifle, with his cap on the upper end. The lower point was pushed down into the earth so that unaided it supported the headgear. He had improved on the method of the Blackfoot.

At first it looked as if this artifice had come too late, for the antelopes continued running. When first seen they were in a valley-like depression with a width of a third of a mile. They made a pretty picture as they skimmed up the opposite slope with their bodies showing in relief against the green background.

The cap, however, on top of the ramrod was so conspicuous that they were not long in discovering it. The three stopped, turned sideways and stood a few minutes gazing intently at the strange object. Then all three broke into a gentle trot toward it, keeping side by side most of the way. One of the trio had more sense or possibly more timidity than his companions, for he abruptly stopped and refused to go any farther. Strangely enough, the others showed no hesitation until within a hundred yards of where the boy, stretched out in the grass, was waiting for the moment when he could make his aim sure.

“I wonder if they ain’t twins like me and George,” was the whimsical fancy of the lad, as he watched the similarity of action on the part of the two antelopes. They had halted at precisely the same second, and now moved forward again, both stepping high and advancing with a curious hesitation which indicated the mental struggle between fear and curiosity.

One turned to the left and ran nimbly in a circle of several rods diameter, coming around and facing the ramrod and cap again, as if hypnotized. At the same moment the other described a similar circle to the right, returning like his companion, so that the two stood side by side, with heads raised, and stepped off again, as if keeping time with the signals of some one who had trained them to the performance.

Victor was impatient, but he had too much prudence to throw away the opportunity that he knew would come to him in a few minutes. When both animals were nigh enough for him to be sure of his aim he still hesitated, with gun pointed, hammer raised and finger on the trigger. He was wondering how much nearer they would approach. Surely, when they caught sight of him in the grass, their curiosity would vanish, and they would dash off in the very extremity of terror. He lay low and waited.

His plan was to hold his fire until the discovery should burst upon the antelopes and they wheeled to flee. This turning would give him his best chance, and he intended to shoot at the crisis of the change of direction.

One of the creatures paused, as if he had observed something that warned him to halt. His companion took three steps more and then halted, with head high in air and one foot lifted and poised like a pointer dog.

It was at this juncture that Victor Shelton bore hard on the trigger, for he dared wait no longer, though he had decided a moment before to fire as the animals wheeled.

To his dismay the hammer of his rifle did not descend. He pressed harder, but the iron claw which grasped the flint remained immovable. Then the truth flashed upon him. In his excitement he had only half-cocked his gun. There should have been three clicks when he drew back the hammer, but there were only two. In that position it would not obey the trigger, no matter how hard the pressure. It must be drawn to a full cock.

Without shifting his posture, he raised his thumb from the trigger guard, so that it passed over the hammer, and then pulled it back as far as it would go. It was at full cock, but in reaching that point it emitted a single click.

Faint as was the sound, it was heard by the two antelopes fully fifty yards away, and they whirled to dash off. At the instant that their sides were toward him, Victor discharged his gun and sent the bullet straight and true. One antelope kept on running, his head flung back, while he sped across the valley like a swallow on the wing. The one that had been smitten flirted back again and then came on a full run straight for the spot in the grass from which the fatal missile had been fired, as if determined to slay his foe before his own strength failed him.

“Great CÆsar!” exclaimed the scared Victor; “I didn’t know an antelope was that sort of beast. I’ve got to get out of here mighty quick!”

There was no time to reload his weapon. Never did he leap to his feet and make off at greater speed than when he saw the antelope bearing down upon him, and it may be added that never did he run so fast as in going up the slope and down the other side, and then in a line for his companions.

At such critical moments a boy does not consider his duty done unless he does all he can in the way of yelling. The shouts that Victor Shelton sent resounding over the surrounding country must have reached several miles. He did not look behind him, for that would have interfered to a fractional extent with his speed, but ran with might and main, marking each leap by a tremendous outcry.

He expected with every breath to feel the antelope’s razor-like hoofs carve their way downward into his shoulders. That several minutes passed without such carving he accepted as proof that he was making as good time as his furious pursuer. If this was gratifying it was also surprising, for Victor had never been noted for his fleetness of foot, and he knew something of the fleetness of the antelope. He concluded that there was no telling what a boy of his age can accomplish in the way of running until the actual necessity for it arises.

All this time Victor did not forget to yell. But after awhile the expenditure of so much breath began to affect his strength. So he closed his mouth and gave his whole attention to getting over the ground in the best possible time.

Because of this cessation of his outcries he became aware that his brother was also shouting. Listening carefully, Victor was finally able to catch his words:

“What are you running for?”

“That’s a pretty question!” he reflected, “when he can see for himself that the antelope is determined to have my life!”

It occurred to the fugitive to look around and see how far he was leaving his fearful enemy behind. He was not in sight. He had not even come over the ridge, but had fallen before taking more than a dozen steps in the direction of the lad. This spurt was a blind, aimless flight, its direction being involuntary. The antelope would not have dared to attack the boy any more than it would have dared to assail a grizzly bear.