Polly’s father opened the gate, at the same time saying to her, “I am going to turn Lopez out for a little while this morning and let him stretch his legs and eat some grass.”

“Oh, papa!” she cried; “he will run away, and the panther will catch him.”

“Oh, no,” her father replied; “he will come back, and you need not fear the panther at this time of day.”

Caution is one of the characteristic traits of my family, so I approached the open gate slowly and stood looking out for a few moments. The ranch is situated on the bank of a small stream, which here swings around, forming a deep crescent. Lying within the loop, between the stream and a low range of hills, which just above the house flattens down to a ridge, is a lovely valley, level as a floor, and perhaps a mile and a half in length. At the widest point it is not over three-quarters of a mile wide and narrows down to a point at each end of the crescent. When I saw this beautiful playground my heart leaped with joy, and I sprang away with the fleetness of the wind. When I had tired myself out running around the valley I came back to Polly, who still stood by the open gate.

After this Polly allowed me to go out every morning, and again late in the afternoon; and a little later I had perfect freedom, going and coming when it pleased me. I never stayed out at night, however, and but seldom went beyond the beautiful valley, which was my playground.

One warm day in midsummer Polly and her father came out to the live-oak tree by the gate, in the dense shade of which I usually took my noon nap. Polly was carrying her little work basket and some bright red ribbon. Her father had a strap of leather and a small bright buckle. I got up at once and went to them, curious to know what they were going to do, besides the scarlet ribbon was very attractive. I soon saw that they were making me a collar. The strap was measured to fit my neck and then covered with the ribbon. Then the buckle was put on and a very large bow of ribbon, which showed off handsomely against the white of my neck and breast, finished the collar.

Soon after I learned the utility of this collar. It was early morning, and I had gone over the ridge and was quietly feeding. Suddenly I raised my head and saw a man, not fifty yards away, with his gun leveled toward me. I looked at him very straight, and he lowered his gun and went away. My bright collar had saved my life.

One bright November day I had gone to the top of the hill and was looking away over that beautiful plain, when Polly came and stood by me, her hand resting gently on my neck. Suddenly the thought came to me that it would be a fine thing for Polly and I to go away and live on the plains. What a free and happy life we would lead! We probably would find other antelopes, and Polly in time might learn to run as fast as I.

As this idea took shape, I determined to try it at once. So, without giving Polly any warning, I sprang away and ran a short distance, then turned around and invited her to come on. She, thinking that I wanted to romp, came after me; but when she could almost touch me, I ran away as before, and again she came after me, laughing with glee. This maneuver I repeated several times, all the time going further out on the prairie. At last Polly stopped and looked back. Then, to divert her attention, I put forth all my efforts to draw her into a romp. First, by running around her in a circle, and then stopping near her to jump up and down with my legs very stiff. This always amused her greatly, and it succeeded this time. She laughed and ran after me, trying to catch me, but I dodged first one way and then the other, just allowing her fingers to touch me, then slipping away from her, but all the time going further out on the prairie. At last Polly grew tired and stopped to look around her. She gave a little gurgling cry of terror that brought me to her side at once.

“Oh, Lopez!” she cried, “Lopez, I don’t know the way home. It all looks alike, and I have forgotten which way we came.” She clasped her arms around my neck and cried bitterly.

“Oh, Lopez!” she wailed, “don’t you know the way home? You know, animals are smarter about such things than little girls.”

I did know the way perfectly well, and Polly’s grief hurt me so that I was strongly tempted to lead her straight back to the ranch; but I reasoned that it had cost me considerable effort to get her this far, and why should I now turn back? Besides, to me, there was no reason why Polly should not be perfectly happy in this new and free life, when she should become accustomed to it. And why should she not adapt herself to my mode of life as easily as I had myself to hers?

Reasoning thus, I deliberately started in the opposite direction to the ranch, walking slowly, with Polly by my side.

Thus we wandered on for perhaps an hour, then I stopped to graze, and Polly sank down on the grass to rest. But soon she sprang up, saying: “This won’t do, Lopez; we must go on and try to find home. Just see how low the sun is.” And then she began to cry.

We had started out early in the afternoon, and the warm sunshine made the air very comfortable. Now the sun hung, a great red ball, just above the dark line that marked the union of sky and plain, and the chill of evening was fast coming on. We wandered on, apparently the only living creatures on this vast plain—on and on, until the last ray of sunlight had been swallowed up by the dusk of evening. The sky was thickly dotted with glittering, twinkling stars, and still we wandered on. A band of white appeared just above the eastern horizon, quickly followed by the moon, which filled the lonely plain with the softened glory of its light, and still we wandered on.

After what seemed to me a very long time, Polly sank down by a bunch of tall grass, and I lay down close by her side. She slipped her hand through my collar and soon fell asleep. As the night grew colder, Polly nestled closer to me, and as we had a thick bed of dry grass we were tolerably warm.

Polly slept quietly, and now I, too, fell asleep, and was only awakened by the broad light of day.

I got up and went to grazing near where Polly was lying still asleep. Soon I saw a wolf go from the carcass of a dead cow to a pool of water and drink. Being quite thirsty, as soon as the wolf had gone away I went to the pool myself and drank. Then, thinking Polly might be thirsty, too, I went back to her and rubbed my nose against her face to wake her. She sat up and looked around her in a dazed sort of way for a few minutes, then stood up and strained her eyes, first in one direction and then in another. At last she turned to me, and I could see that her lips were quivering.

“Lopez, I think there is water where those small trees are growing; anyway, we will go and see.”

When we reached the pool Polly knelt down and drank, and then gathered and ate several handfuls of red haws from the scrubby little trees that grew around the pool. We then started on, walking as fast as Polly could.

We had gone on for perhaps two hours, when I insisted upon stopping to eat some more grass. Polly pulled at my collar. “Oh, Lopez, come on,” she said, a little crossly. “If I can do without something to eat, surely you can, too.” But I would not go, and she sat down in the grass to wait for me.

When we started on again I noticed that Polly was shivering. The sun had disappeared behind a misty veil of clouds and it was much colder than it had been in the early morning. Later in the day we came to a deep ravine. A few pecan trees grew along its banks, and here Polly gathered some of the fallen nuts and ate them, while I ate my dinner of grass.

We found a place where a smooth trail crossed the gully. This we followed until it broadened out and was lost in the prairie grass.

The sky was now a dull slate color, and