THE MULE DEER OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 181 



whose branching head lay just before and below us. It was 

 certain that they had not passed out on the side on which 

 we had made our detour, or we would have seen their tracks. 

 Nor was it probable that they had crossed over into the head 

 of the next valley beyond, for had they intended to go into 

 that one, they would have been more apt to enter it by its 

 mouth. That we had neither heard nor seen anything of 

 the game proved nothing, for Deer that live much in brush 

 have a habit of hiding or skulking in it, and may lie still, 

 or even stand still, within fifty yards of a person, or sneak 

 quietly off, without arousing one' s suspicion of their pres- 

 ence. It was quite probable that they were not two hun- 

 dred yards from us, lying down on the shady side of some 

 little ravine or under some large bush. 



About one hundred yards below us lay a noble boulder 

 of granite, with a smaller one beside it, by which we could 

 climb upon it. Its top was broad and flat, and formed a 

 most tempting place to sit and enjoy the view and the 

 breeze, if nothing else. It was hardly necessary for me to 

 suggest that we should transfer ourselves to that boulder, 

 for my friend had already chosen it as his next resting- 

 place. 



"Now,'' said I, as we stretched out upon it, "let's make 

 quite a stay here. A Deer, even when hiding from you, 

 often gets uneasy after awhile, and can not resist the temp- 

 tation to have a good look at you. If you sit long enough 

 within view of one, you may finally hear the brush crack, 

 or may see the tips of a pair of ears arise out of *fhe brush 

 somewhere, or a pair of horns, perhaps, come surging 



' ' That isn' t a pair of horns over there, is it ? " he inter- 

 rupted, pointing away on the left. 



About one hundred and thirty yards upon the left, two 

 points, some three inches long and twelve inches apart, were 

 just visible above the chaparral. To an untrained eye, they 

 might have passed for the ends of dead sticks, often seen 

 in such brush, whose weather-beaten ends often look gray 

 and shiny; but there was a peculiar hue and glitter about 

 these points that made them like the face of an old friend 



