"Oh! if they would only come just a little closer," said Ben under his breath, "I'd have them sure."
Once they stopped and sniffed the air, but just as Ben was about to chance a long-distance shot, they moved on again.
"Now, Ben!" said John, excitedly.
For an instant the stock of the rifle rested closely against the boy's cheek—then the shot rang out. Almost simultaneously the biggest of the herd leaped into the air, then fell flat to the ground. The others stood still, bewildered.
"Good! Now for another one," whispered John. Again the rifle was raised and again its deadly crack sounded forth. Another antelope bounded up, ran frantically a few yards, and dropped. At this the rest of the herd made off like the wind, and in a few minutes were mere specks on the horizon.
"Well, I must say," said Ben, exultingly, "I thought once that I would rather have your saddle and outfit, but now—" he slapped the stock of his rifle affectionately—"I wouldn't swap if you gave me Baldy to boot."
"Baldy to boot, eh? Why, I wouldn't swap that horse for a whole stack of rifles." And John moved off in indignation to get the horses, while Ben went over to the spot where the game lay.
The carcasses were packed on Ben's horse, both boys mounting Baldy. They were welcomed heartily at the camp, for fresh meat was at a premium, and any change of diet was an event of prime importance.
"That gun of yours must be chained lightning," said Ted. "I didn't suppose you could hit the side of a hill at fifty yards."