It certainly did, the blue morning sky being dappled with numberless little clouds that gave a softness to the sunlight without dimming it to a shadow.
"Let's keep near the foot hills," I said, "because the brush and rocks give us some shelter and the antelope will not be so apt to see us."
"It's a good scheme," assented Jim.
So we rode southward through the broken country, crossing ravines, riding through the scrub oaks and keeping a wary eye on the plains below.
We had gone about five miles, when I called a halt.
"What are those specks way off there on the plain?" I enquired.
Jim took a long look in the direction that I had indicated.
"I can see them move," he announced, "they are antelope, all right."
"How far do you think they are?" I asked.
"About four miles, I reckon," said Jim. "It looks perfectly level, how in the mischief are we going to get within range?"