122 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



Senora, wash the bites and cover them with carbo- 

 lated vaseline." 



Though indomitable as a warrior and, like his 

 father, swift to resent the meddling ways of dogs 

 ten times his size, Monte never tackled a gopher 

 again. 



And while on the subject of gophers, T wonder 

 where and how the notion that Mexicans are in- 

 different marksmen originated? The men who 

 worked on my ranch were all good shots. Crossing 

 the orchard on business bent I perceived one morn- 

 ing a mother gopher and three young ones sitting 

 up on the edge of their hole. To Juan I flew with 

 my news. Down went his hoe, into the house he 

 hied him for the loaded shotgun, and in faster time 

 than it takes to relate he had let fly with both barrels 

 and four gopher corpses fell back into their home. 



Then there is the roadrunner, who is far from 

 being a pest, and devours mice and snakes and all 

 such superfluous vermin. Not only so, but he is a 

 beautiful and graceful bird, and many a time I 

 have reined in my horse to watch him skim along 

 the trail, leaping or running, his short wings held 

 close to his slender body and high crest erect. Rat- 

 tlers are a favorite item on his bill of fare, and he 

 goes to infinite trouble to obtain them. It is said 

 that on finding a sleeping snake he will softly build 

 a fence of sharp thorns around his prey. The snake 

 on awakening is excusably enraged and strikes and 

 beats himself against the thorns until exhausted, 

 when the roadrunner kills and eats him at his lei- 

 sure. Having once been on fairly intimate terms 





