WATER TRAILS OF THE CERISO 



at iever so slight an angle, to converge 

 toward a point left or right of your objec- 

 tive, no matter what the maps say, or your 

 memory, trust them ; they know. 



It is very still in the Ceriso by day, so 

 that were it not for the evidence of those 

 white beaten ways, it might be the desert 

 it looks. The sun is hot in the dry season, 

 and the days are filled with the glare of it. 

 Now and again some unseen coyote signals 

 his pack in a long-drawn, dolorous whine 

 that comes from no determinate point, but 

 nothing stirs much before mid-afternoon. 

 It is a sign when there begin to be hawks 

 skimming above the sage that the little 

 people are going about their business. 



We have fallen on a very careless usage, 



speaking of wild creatures as if they were 



bound b^^ some such limitation as hampers 



clockwork. When we say of one and an- 



29 



