1 84 HUNTING TRIPS 



June morning I was riding down along the 

 river, and came to a long bottom, crowded 

 with rose-bushes, all in bloom. It was 

 crossed in every direction by cattle paths, 

 and a drove of long-horned Texans were 

 scattered over it. A cow-pony gets accus- 

 tomed to travelling at speed along the cat- 

 tle trails, and the one I bestrode threaded 

 its way among the twisted narrow paths 

 with perfect ease, loping rapidly onward 

 through a sea of low rose-bushes, covered 

 with the sweet, pink flowers. They gave 

 a bright color to the whole plain, while the 

 air was filled with the rich, full songs of the 

 yellow-breasted meadow larks, as they 

 perched on the topmost sprays of the little 

 trees. Suddenly a white-tail doe sprang up 

 almost from under the horse's feet, and 

 scudded off with her white flag flaunting. 

 There was no reason for harming her, and 

 she made a pretty picture as she bounded 

 lightly off among the rose-red flowers, pass- 

 ing without heed through the ranks of the 

 long-horned and savage-looking steers. 



