102 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



later I went out again. The full moon had risen, 

 and shone down, transforming the landscape. 

 The road was a narrow line between silvered 

 fields of headed grain, and the granite bowlders 

 gleamed white on the hills inclosing the sleeping 

 valley. For a few moments the shrill barking of 

 coyote wolves disturbed the stillness ; then again 

 the night became silent ; peace rested upon the 

 valley, and from far up the canyon came the faint, 

 sad cry, poor-wil'-low, poor-toil* -low. 



