Deerfoot on the Prairies

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

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: