such an adorable pet."

"Oh, yes," I said, "let's do. I'll get it for you. You can put it in
your hat till we go back to camp."

In blissful ignorance I dismounted and slowly went toward the little
animal. There was not the slightest motion until I tossed my
outspread shooting coat. Then I saw a flash of brown, a bobbing
white rump-patch, and a tiny thing, no larger than a rabbit,
speeding over the plain. The baby was somewhat "wobbly," to be sure,
for this was probably the first time it had ever tried its slender
legs, but after a few hundred yards it ran as steadily as its
mother.

I was so surprised that for a moment I simply stared. Then I leaped
into the saddle and Kublai Khan rushed after the diminutive brown
fawn. It was a good half mile before we had the little chap under
the pony's nose but the race was by no means ended. Mewing with
fright, it swerved sharply to the left and ere we could swing about,
it had gained a hundred yards. Again and again we were almost on it,
but every time it dodged and got away. After half an hour my pony
was gasping for breath, and I changed to Yvette's chestnut stallion.
The Mongol joined me and we had another run, but we might have been
pursuing a streak of shifting sunlight. Finally we had to give it up
and watch the tiny thing bob away toward its mother, who was
circling about in the distance.

There were half a dozen other fawns upon the plain, but they all
treated us alike and my wife's hat was empty when we returned to
camp. These antelope probably had been born not more than two or
three days before we found them. Later, after a chase of more than a
mile, we caught one which was only a few hours old. Had it not
injured itself when dodging between my pony's legs we could never
have secured it at all.

Thus, nature, in the great scheme of life, has provided for her
antelope children by blessing them with undreamed-of speed and only
during the first days of babyhood could a wolf catch them on the
open plain. When they are from two to three weeks old they run with
the females in herds of six or eight, and you cannot imagine what a
pretty sight it is to see the little fellows skimming like tiny,
brown chickens beside their mothers. There is another wonderful
provision for their life upon the desert. The digestive fluids of
the stomach act upon the starch in the vegetation which they eat so
that it forms sufficient water for their needs. Therefore, some
species never drin