ones, I may add that in spite 

 of these fine words, still shackled 

 by remnants of tradition, I am 

 always expecting them to, and 

 thereby prove myself a creature not 

 wholly open to reason. 



However, if something must in- 

 spect camp at night, I would far 

 rather take chances on lion or bear, 

 for at least they have a care where 

 their feet are going, but a bull would 

 as soon trample on one as on the 

 grass alongside. He cares not a jot. 

 A horse will carefully step over a 

 human form but a bull has not a 

 shred of noblesse oblige. He is a 

 blatant, stupid, brutal bully. 



As for yellow jackets, there is 

 no creature more dreaded in horse 

 country. Many a poor pack-horse 

 on the trail has missed his footing 

 and gone to his death because of 

 them. I remember a certain "Lost 

 Horse Canon," the entrance of which 

 they guarded, and where our faith- 

 ful Midnight, in pain and fright, 

 bucked himself off the trail, plunging 

 nearly a thousand feet to the torrent 

 below, a horrible performance which 

 my horse came perilously near 



