Chapter VII 



Following the Lowland Wolf 



THE meet of the Valley Hunt was at a certain 

 oak not far from the edge of the Arroyo Seco. 

 At an early hour the soft melody of a horn 

 came through the orange groves followed a few mo- 

 ments later by hounds and riders, the men mounted on 

 high-pommelled Mexican saddles with a brave showing 

 of silver and carved leather. 



It was a winter morning in Southern California, and 

 as the hunt turned to the south and rode through Pasa- 

 dena the ground was silvered with heavy frost in places, 

 the summits of the Sierra Madre were white with 

 snow, and the sentinel peaks of San Antonio and San 

 Jacinto, ten thousand feet in air, loomed up, white 

 domes against the pink glow of the morning sky. You 

 could see the snow flying on San Antonio, hovering 

 like a cloud at its summit ; you could see the big 

 trees laden with snow on Mount Wilson and Mount 

 Disappointment. Winter was abroad and visible, but 

 here, mocking-birds, orioles, finches, song-sparrows, from 



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