Then, too, its forelegs were lacerated, the skin having been cut away by repeated blows from the sharp points of the hinder hoofs, and Oscar knew that it must be suffering intensely.
Besides this, Gipsy, who was doing her duty faithfully, was leaning back so heavily on the lariat that the iron ring which formed the noose was pressed down upon the little creature’s throat until it seemed on the point of strangling.
“Good gracious!” cried Oscar, who took this all in at a glance, “I can’t stand it, and I won’t, either. There you are! Clear out, and take better care of yourself in future.”
To run to his horse and undo the lariat that was made fast around the horn of his saddle was scarcely the work of a moment.
Holding it in his hand, just tightly enough to prevent the captive from jumping to its feet, he approached it, and with a quick movement opened the noose and threw it off its neck.
The fawn was on its feet in an instant, and in a few seconds more it was making railroad time down the ridge.
CHAPTER XVII.
COURSING AND STILL-HUNTING.
Oscar watched the fawn as long as it remained in sight; and was glad to see that the injuries it had inflicted upon itself did not in the least interfere with its running.
When it disappeared from his view, he mounted his horse and turned about, to find the lieutenant sitting motionless in his saddle and looking at him with every expression of astonishment.
“What did you do that for?” he asked, as Oscar came up. “That wasn’t a very bright trick.”