I04 Life in the Open 



every tree and bush sang of spring and summer. The 

 blossoms of the heliotrope, banked against houses, 

 filled the air with fragrance ; roses piled high in great 

 masses of splendid colour over doorways and verandas ; 

 the orange groves were white with bloom, and as the 

 hunt left the town and struck into the open the full 

 beauty of this California winter was seen. Fields of 

 barley stretched away on every hand ; acres of oranges 

 and lemons, and groves of pom-pon-like eucalyptus. 

 The roads and lanes were lined with green, and great 

 stretches were starred in yellows the faces of a small 

 daisy-like flower, while the Copa de oro was unfolding, 

 releasing countless bees that had passed the night in 

 these golden-tinted prisons along the mesa. It was 

 winter in Southern California winter among palms, 

 bananas, and a host of tropical and semi-tropical trees. 

 Yet the air was crisp and cool, as one might expect 

 where the night-wind had caressed snow and ice on the 

 slopes of San Antonio. 



The Valley Hunt pack consisted of about fifteen 

 greyhounds, built for endurance ; tall, rangy, as large as 

 deerhounds ; some coming from Australian stock, that 

 had hunted the kangaroo in the open reaches of that 

 country ; others having been bred to the hard work of 

 taking jack rabbits in the great vineyards. Massed, 

 they presented an inspiring picture, as they trotted 

 along; their trim, blue-and-tan coats shining; their 

 bright intelligent eyes glancing to right and left. 



The game on this winter morning was to be the 



