There came two simultaneous reports and a couple of antelope dropped flat and flaccid. We fired at the remainder as they jumped into the distance. Our shots only made them go faster.
"Well," cried Jim, as we stood up, "two isn't so bad."
We got on our ponies and were obliged to ride down the gully for half a mile before we could get out where there was a narrow wash down the side.
We rode over, to where the two huddled heaps of grey laid on the plain. I had got my young buck all right, while Jim had killed a good sized doe.
"I tell you, Jim, let's take the two of them into the gully, where we will be safe from the Apaches seeing us. Cut off the best parts, then hunt back towards the camp."
"All right," Jim acquiesced, rather to my surprise.
He was likely to disregard any ordinary caution, but since his training with the captain, he was more apt to be careful and to take fewer chances.
So we flung the antelopes across the back of our saddles, tying them securely with the long leather strings and started back for the arroyo.
We kept a sharp lookout in all directions over the plains, but saw no indications of Indians, and reached our destination in safety.
"I believe that we are going to have a thunderstorm," Jim remarked.