INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



and we started for a place called Hayden, 

 located in California Park. The sun had 

 melted the snow, and the journey was hot 

 and dusty. Traveling over the steep moun- 

 tain trails, the guide gave me the lead, while 

 he rode at the rear of the pack horses strung 

 out in single file, and made use of all the arts 

 of persuasion to keep them going, frequently 

 leaning down to pick up a rock or a stick to 

 hurl at some "ornery" beast that would turn 

 a deaf ear to the appeal, "Wake up and pay 

 for your bedding." Speeches in true cowboy 

 style, with plenty of rhetorical flourishes, were 

 delivered almost without intermission, when 

 the traveling was particularly difficult. 



After leaving the timber, we had a tedious 

 journey through long stretches of sage brush. 

 The land where the sage brush abounds seems 

 desolate and forsaken, and .would impress the 

 casual observer as perfectly worthless. While 

 reflecting upon the forbidding aspect of the 

 country, I wondered if this land could be 

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