It allowed Oscar to come pretty close to it before it took the alarm; but when it was fairly started it made up for lost time. It ran faster than it did before; and it was only after a two-mile chase that Oscar was near enough to it to use his lasso.
He threw until his arm ached, and was on the point of settling the matter with a shot from his revolver, when the fawn, in the most accommodating manner, ran its head directly into the noose and was quickly pulled to the ground.
“There!” exclaimed Oscar, panting loudly after his exertions, “I did it, didn’t I? Now, Gipsy, I am going to see if you are as smart as your master thinks you are. I want you to hold that fellow for me until I see what he looks like.”
Oscar had often heard and read of the wonderful intelligence exhibited by trained horses in assisting their riders to secure animals that had been lassoed in the chase, but he had never put the least faith in it. Now he had an opportunity to test the matter for himself, and the result proved that their skill had not in the least been exaggerated.
Having wrapped his lariat around the horn of his saddle, Oscar dismounted to take a nearer look at his captive.
As he approached, the little creature sprang to its feet, but was almost instantly pulled down again by a quick movement on the part of the horse, which stepped backward, throwing her weight upon the lasso as she did so.
“I declare, you do understand your business, after all, Gipsy!” exclaimed the boy, who watched her movements with great admiration. “Now, how am I going to tie this fellow? I believe I’ll slip that noose under his forelegs, and make him walk to camp. If he doesn’t feel like going peaceably, I can make the mare drag him. Hollo! What’s that?”
Oscar, who had bent over his captive in readiness to carry out the plan he had hit upon, suddenly straightened up, and burying his hands deep in his pockets, looked first toward a distant swell, down which the lieutenant was coming at headlong speed, waving his hat in the air and uttering triumphant yells, and then he looked at the fawn.
He was a born hunter, and whenever he bagged any game of which he had long been in search, and which promised, when mounted, to make an unusually fine specimen, he was a proud and happy boy; but just now he felt anything but pride in his success.
His little captive shed tears so copiously, and looked up at him with so appealing an expression, that Oscar, for the moment, was completely unnerved.