18 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



tions in such matters. This time he was de- 

 ceived himself. We were on our homeward 

 beat, off in the brush beyond the vineyard. I 

 was watching for chewinks. We came to what 

 looked like an old road grown up with soft green 

 grass, and it was so fresh and tender I let Ca- 

 nello graze along at will ; while keeping my eyes 

 on the brush for chewinks. Suddenly Canello 

 pricked up his ears and raised his head with a 

 look of terror. Rattlesnakes or miring — it was 

 surely one or the other ! When I felt myself sink- 

 ing, I knew which. I gave the horse a cut with 

 the quirt to make him spring off the boggy 

 ground, and looked off over his side to see how 

 far down he was likely to go, but found myself 

 going down backwards so fast I had to cling 

 to the pommel. I lashed Canello to urge him 

 out, and he struggled desperately, but it was no 

 use. We were sinking in deeper and deeper, and 

 I had to get off to relieve him of my weight. By 

 this time his long legs had sunk in up to his body. 

 On touching the ground I had a horrible mo- 

 ment thinking it might not hold me ; but it bore 

 well. Seizing the bridle with one hand and swing- 

 ing the quirt with the other, I shouted encourage- 

 ment to Canello, and, straining and struggling, he 

 finally wrenched himself out and stepped on terra 

 firma — I never appreciated the force of that ex- 

 pression before ! The poor horse was trembling 

 and exhausted when I led him up to high ground 



