of the herd finally galloped away
over the plain, "you boys see what curiosity does. Yer kin allers fetch
'em with a red hankercher, and gin'rally by jist layin' down on yer back,
and holdin' up yer feet. They're awful curious critters, them antelopes
is. I reckon we'd better quit this trail, and git them air carcasses
inter camp. What d'yer say, youngsters?"

"I declare, I forgot to fire at all!" exclaimed Ned. "I never once
thought of my pistol."

"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Jerry. "You've got the 'buck-fever' my boy. I might
a knowed you wouldn't a fired; no, nor you, neither," continued he,
turning towards Hal.

"But I did fire twice, though," said Hal.

"Le'me see yer pistol, youngster," said Jerry; after examining it, he
again burst into a loud laugh.

"Jest as I 'spected! Every barr'l loaded. Yer see you was so 'cited that
yer forgot all about firin'. You thought yer did, I s'pose; but don't be
too sartin next time, 'cause the fever allers takes what little sense a
feller's got, when it strikes him."

The antelope were soon dressed; but Hal's chagrin was so great at the
thought of being so cleverly detected by Jerry's shrewdness, that I
attempted to comfort him by promising to relate my own misfortunes upon
experiencing my first attack. After supper, and while we were smoking our
pipes, the boys claimed the fulfilment of my promise.

I only hope that the narrative may prove as interesting to my young
readers, as it did to Hal and Ned, who heard the story with roars of
laughter at my blunders.

Well, boys, I was once passing through the Sacramento range of mountains
in New Mexico, in company with an old trapper and hunter, named Nat Beal.

Nat was a jovial, pleasant companion; and, in truth one of the best
shots I ever saw.

While riding through one of the numerous little valleys with which that
range abounds, we saw at a little distance, a magnificent specimen of a
black-tailed deer.

Now I had always wanted to kill a black-tailed deer, and this was the
first time I had ever seen one, so I begged Nat to let me shoot it.

He said, with a laugh, "Shoot away!" and I took deliberate aim and
fired.

"Ha! ha! ha!" roared he, as the fellow bounded away unharmed, "it's as
clear a case of 'buck-fever' as ever I saw."

"Not at all. I aimed too high; that was the only trouble."

"Jest so," replied Nat; "a man with the 'fever' always aims too high."

"I'll bet I won't miss the next one," said I, angry at the im