Jack was on his knees behind Donald and had his pistol ready, but nothing stirred.
"You must have got him!" Jack cried.
The boys quickly jumped to their feet and climbed up the bank, and there was the antelope, his head stretched out before him.
"Let's get a knife into him!" exclaimed Jack. "He may be only creased."
A few steps brought the boys to him, and taking hold of the antelope's horn Jack thrust in his knife at the point of the breast. Then he saw that the ball had entered just below the head and had broken the antelope's neck.
"By Jove!" he cried, "that was a good shot, and a quick shot! If that wasn't an accident, it was certainly a way up shot. I'd give a good deal to be able to shoot a pistol like that three times out of five."
"It was a lucky shot, sure enough," laughed Donald. "I can't do that sort of thing three times out of five, nor three times out of ten. I wish I could."
"Well, we'll have to have some pistol practise when we get back to the ranch, for if you can do this thing often, I'll want you to give me some lessons."
The boys dressed the antelope, which was a fine old buck with a pair of long, spreading horns.
"This will tickle Hugh," said Jack, "for it's just what he asked for—a good piece of wild meat."