OF A RANCHMAN 127 



ing through a patch of tall grass a flock of 

 huntings will often keep circling within a 

 couple of yards of the horse's head, seizing 

 the insects as they fly up before him. 



The valley through which the creek ran 

 was quite wide, bordered by low buttes. 

 After a heavy rainfall the water rushes 

 through the at other times dry bed in a foam- 

 ing torrent, and it thus cuts it down into a 

 canyon-like shape, making it a deep, wind- 

 ing, narrow ditch, with steep sides. Along 

 the edges of this ditch were dense patches, 

 often quite large, of rose-bushes, bullberry 

 bushes, ash, and wild cherry, making almost 

 impenetrable thickets, generally not over 

 breast high. In the bottom of the valley, 

 along the edges of the stream bed, the grass 

 was long and coarse, entirely different from 

 the short fine bunch grass a little farther 

 back, the favorite food of the cattle. 



Almost as soon as I had entered the creek, 

 in walking through a small patch of brush 

 I put up an old cock, as strong a flyer as the 

 general run of October birds. Off he went, 



