32 Life in the Open 



There was no telling what the game was, but after a long 

 run we went through the main street of a little village 

 like a whirlwind. An incautious Newfoundland dog 

 came out of a German's yard, followed by his master, 

 to see what it all meant, and the strenuous Valley Hunt 

 hounds fell upon him. The German doubtless thought 

 he had been attacked by wolves as he fled, and the 

 scene of action was changed to his house and piazza. 

 We threw ourselves from our horses and rushed into 

 the mdlee, my companion to save the German and I to 

 intervene with the hounds with my crop on the part of 

 the Newfoundland. It was one of those experiences 

 which drop out of clear skies upon peaceful lovers of 

 nature a rude blast on an otherwise peaceful sea. It 

 took fifteen minutes to convince those hounds that the 

 German gentleman was not some kind of game, and 

 that they believed the big dog to be a bear there could 

 be no question. 



Having succeeded in driving the pack out of the 

 little garden, now a wreck, I began to think of escape, 

 but it was an evil day. Our horses had run away and 

 there was nothing to do but face the irate German, who 

 stated that he had a brother-in-law who was in some 

 way related to the Lieutenant-Governor of California, 

 and the latter was to be summoned at once. It was 

 fortunate that in those Arcadian days telephones had not 

 disturbed the peace of suburban communities, or we 

 should doubtless have been held and hauled before this 

 official. As it was we faced the irate citizen, and in a 



