In the Sierra 



numbers, whose tiny sparks of life only burn 

 the brighter with the heat, fairly quiver 

 with unquenchable energy as they run in 

 long lines to fight and gather food. How it 

 comes that they do not dry to a crisp in 

 a few seconds' exposure to such sun-fire is 

 marvelous. A few rattlesnakes lie coiled in 

 out-of-the-way places, but are seldom seen. 

 Magpies and crows, usually so noisy, are silent 

 now, standing in mixed flocks on the ground 

 beneath the best shade trees, with bills wide 

 open and wings drooped, too breathless to 

 speak; the quails also are trying to keep in 

 the shade about the few tepid alkaline water- 

 holes; cottontail rabbits are running from 

 shade to shade among the ceanothus brush, 

 and occasionally the long-eared hare is seen 

 cantering gracefully across the wider open- 

 ings. 



After a short noon rest in a grove, the 

 poor dust-choked flock was again driven 

 ahead over the brushy hills, but the dim 

 roadway we had been following faded away 



