OUR VALLEY. 17 



edge of the water, and then, as if afraid of wet- 

 ting their feet, would hold themselves up by flut- 

 tering their long pointed wings. They would get 

 a little mud, take a turn in the air, and come 

 back for more, to make enough to pay them for 

 their long journeys from their nests. Sometimes 

 they would skirn over the pond without touching 

 the surface at all, or merely dip in lightly for a 

 drink in passing ; at others they would take a 

 flying plunge with an audible splash. Now and 

 then great flocks of them could be seen circling 

 around high up against a background of clouds 

 and blue sky. 



One day I had a genuine excitement in seeing 

 a snow-white egret perched on a bush by the 

 water. I rode home full of the beautiful sight, 

 but alas, my story was the signal for the ranch- 

 man's son to seize his gun and rush after the bird. 

 Fortunately lie did not find him, although he did 

 shoot a green heron ; but it was probably a short 

 reprieve for the poor hunted creature. 



Canello was so afraid of miring in the soft 

 ground that it was hard to get him across 

 some places that seemed quite innocent. He 

 would test the suspicious ground as carefully as 

 a woman, one foot at a time ; and if he judged it 

 dangerous, would take the bits, turn around and 

 march off in the opposite direction. I tried to 

 force him over at first, but had an experience one 

 day that made me quite ready to take all sugges- 



