A look of pleased surprise crossed Red Jake’s face. “Waal now!” he grinned, all interest. “Ef you ain’t the first sport that’s come down here that wasn’t all-fired crazy to snake out one of our antelopes! Th’ Major, he don’t shoot none, because they’se mighty scarce—but a guest,—of course, he don’t say nothin’, but——” Jake’s pantomime was expressive. “Say, them sports’ll put in all their chips the first round to git a prong-horn!”
“Just let me see one, wild, that’s all,” said Scotty, feeling that his stock was rising in the Arizonan’s estimation. “None of us may ever look upon another, soon, you know.”
They spurred up and rode out into the desert back of the red buttes. It was hot and bare and dotted with sage. It shimmered with heat waves, and glared like iron slag under the pitiless sun. The desert was in a far different mood, now, than when the glories of sunset and dawn made it splendid; it was now a scene of endless desolation, with sun-baked gray mesas standing sentinel across it, stretched to the north.
“Look! Thar they go! See ’em!” cried Jake, pointing suddenly across the distant plains with his finger. Scotty puckered up his eyes and searched the shimmering heat as best he could. Something was moving, far to the north. Like twin gray ghosts were they, bounding with incredible speed and tirelessness. Then one stopped and looked back toward them. A white flash appeared from his rump. Immediately he melted into the same gray invisibility as before.
“That’s their signal, that rump flash!” exclaimed Jake. “The ha’rs move, jest like you’d turn plush. They signals a warning, that way, to try out anything so far off they cayn’t see it well. If we could make a white flash like that in answer they’d think we was another herd. Look your fill, sonny, this is about as near as we’ll git to them.”
The antelope disappeared behind a ledge of rocks, as Scotty sat silently, resting one leg over his pony’s saddle, scanning the torrid, iron-bound scene.
“We’ll git back to the ranch, now, son,” remarked Jake as they rode back to the turkeys. “Hyar’s meat enough, even if Montana John an’ th’ other kid don’t hang up no buck. Put away your hardware. We won’t see nothin’ on the way back.”
They rode down the draw, and then along the river bank, crossing to the ranch. Major Hinchman and the Colonel rose to greet them and exclaim delightedly over the turkeys, while a roared order from Hinchman brought the Chinese cook running out into the patio.
“You, Lum Looke!—catch’m turkey, roast top-side all over, savvy?” directed the Major, handing the birds to the grinning Celestial.
About an hour later Big John rode into the patio with the buck across his saddle.