his was all that was left of the poor prong-horn--all that was left
of that beautiful form that, only a few moments before, was bounding
over the prairie in the full pride of health, strength, and swiftness!

The boys contemplated his remains with feelings of disappointment and
chagrin; for, although there was still plenty of bear-meat, they had
anticipated supping upon fresh venison. But neither "haunch" nor
"saddle" was left--nothing but torn and useless fragments--so, after
sundry sharp ejaculations against the wolves, they left Marengo to make
his best of the _debris_, and, walking back slowly to the camp, seated
themselves once more upon the stones.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

DECOYING AN ANTELOPE.

They had not rested more than five minutes, when their attention was
again attracted to the prairie. Another herd of antelopes! Strange to
say, it was; and, like the former, these were making directly for the
spring. The hunters knew they were not the same; for this herd was much
larger, and there were several males in it, easily distinguishable by
their forked horns.

The guns were again loaded, and Marengo was called up--lest he might
frighten them off.

These, like the others, marched in order, in single file--led by a large
buck. There appeared to be about thirty or more in this herd. They
had, no doubt, been pasturing all day on some far plain, and were now on
their way to the water, determined to have a good drink before going to
rest for the night.

When they had arrived within four or five hundred yards of the spring,
they turned slightly to the left. This brought them at once to the
rivulet--where they entered, and having drunk, went out again, and
commenced browsing along the bank. It was evident they did not intend
coming any nearer to the butte, or the grove of willows, where our
hunters had concealed themselves. This was a disappointment. All three
had once more set their minds upon an antelope supper; and now their
chances of getting it seemed every moment growing less--as the animals,
instead of coming nearer, were browsing away from them over the prairie.
There was no cover by which they might be approached. What, then,
could the hunters do, but leave them to go as they had come?

But there was an expedient which suggested itself to the mind of Basil.
He had heard of it from old hunters; and the curious conduct of the
first herd, so lately shown in regard to the wolves, recalled it to