"Are those our antelope out there, Lucy ?" she asked, pointing out with care the few tiny objects, thin and knifelike, crowned with short black forking tips, which showed up against the sky line on a distant ridge.

"I think they must be.

I haven't noticed them for quite a while." "Yass'm," said Aunt Lucy, after a judicial look.

"Them blame l'il goats.
Thass um.

I wish't they all wuzn't so mighty peart an' knowin' all ther time, so'st Majah Buford he c'd git one o' them now an' then fer to eat.
Antelope tennerline is shoh'ly mighty fine, briled.