Fox-Hunting in California 75 



from the sea, while another comes stealing along the 

 Sierra Santa Monica range, and they meet at the main 

 range. 



If this is a real rain, not a false alarm, it spreads 

 out and encompasses the whole land from the mountains 

 to the sea, and after much coming and going, halting 

 and coming again, the rain falls softly at night. I 

 have known enthusiasts to go out and stand in it, when 

 it has not rained for eight months. It rains gently all 

 night, and in the morning the clouds slink away and 

 leave another land. The golden haze that has filled the 

 valley is gone, there is a new tone, a new world ; the 

 dust has been washed out of the atmosphere, the trees 

 are green and bright, the Heteromeles hold up their 

 ripening berries, and wild lilac, ironwood, manzanita, and 

 a score of trees and bushes take on rich green tints 

 under this night's washing. The orange and eucalyptus 

 groves are freshened up and all the earth, covered with 

 its brown and seared mass of winter vegetation and 

 seeds, takes on a darker brown. Then is the time to 

 take out the hounds ; the damp sand of the cafions is 

 covered with grey leaf mould that photographs the im- 

 print of fox or bird, and retains the slightest odour, and 

 the hounds at once pick up the scent and follow it over 

 and through the devious paths and trails of the deep 

 cafions. 



The fox is a very minor part of fox-hunting in 

 Southern California. I have spent many God-given 

 days in the cartons of the range, from Santa Barbara 



