I soon fell asleep. How long I had slept I do not know, when I was suddenly aroused from my comfortable nap by a large, dark animal snorting right over me. Of course, I was very much frightened and wished my mother would come to me. If I had not been so shaky on my legs I would have run away in search of her, but my feet had an uncomfortable way of getting too far apart, and my body seemed entirely too heavy for my legs; so I lay very still, hoping that this strange object might pass on and not disturb me. But a few moments later there bent over me what I soon after learned was a man. “Hello!” he said, “here is a baby antelope. There—don’t struggle so, or you will break your pipe-stem legs.” Soon I found that it was useless for me to try to free myself from his grasp, for while he was not at all rough, he held me quite firmly. Then I began to shiver from fear; also from the cold wind. “Poor little fellow—he is cold,” the man said, soothingly, and he took a blanket from the pommel of his saddle and wrapped it around me. Then, mounting his horse, with me still in his arms, we set out across the prairie. After about half an hour he stopped at a gate, where there were several log cabins huddled together. “Polly! Come here, Polly!” the man called, and a little flaxen-haired girl came running from one of the cabins. “What is it, papa?” she called, as she opened the heavy gate. “It is a new pet for you—a baby antelope,” and he handed me down to her. Polly put me on the ground and lifted the blanket from around me. “Oh, the funny little darling!” she cried. “Papa, he is all legs and spots, and—and ears.” “Yes,” the man replied; “he will soon lose his spots, but his legs and ears will stay with him, and it won’t be very long until he will show you how he can use those long legs of his.” The man rode away, and Polly carried me into the house, where everybody handled and looked at me, all of which made me feel forlorn indeed. But when Polly put me into a box half full of nice, clean hay, in a sunny nook between two of the cabins, I felt that the best thing for me to do was to lie down and go to sleep. After a comfortable nap I awoke, feeling very hungry, and began to call feebly for my mother. But it was Polly, henceforth my foster mother and beloved friend, that came in answer to my call. She carried me into the kitchen, where a bottle, with a quill wrapped with a soft rag for a stopper, was standing by the fire. Polly took the bottle and put the stopper into my mouth. The rag was not pleasant to my taste, and the quill, although disguised by many soft wrappings, was hard and unyielding. Naturally, I objected, but Polly persisted, and after a while I got a taste of the warm milk that flowed through the quill. Then I ceased to struggle and proceeded to take my dinner in the only way I knew. At an early age I was taught to eat cornmeal and wheat bran, both of which I liked very much.