Following the Lowland Wolf n 5 



to throw a steer, and stopped, while I went on, landing on 

 my feet in the soft earth in a wash from which I crawled 

 through the fence to lift the master of the hounds, who 

 was slightly stunned but wholly uninjured. But the 

 horse he was lying on his back with a double turn of 

 barbed wire about his hoofs, holding him in the serio- 

 comic position in which oxen are placed for shoeing in 

 Mexico. He was immovable, but, remarkable to relate, 

 almost uninjured. Some one hunted up a blacksmith 

 down the road, who came and filed the wire, releasing 

 the animal, which had but a few scratches. 



He had turned a complete somersault, and was 

 locked by the wire, head to the back track. Turning a 

 somersault with a horse is a unique experience, a pas- 

 time which I have indulged in and described elsewhere, 

 but I cannot commend it even in Southern California. 



The coyote, as game, still holds its own in Southern 

 California and the south-west in general. It is sup- 

 posed to be a menace to the rancher, hence there is an 

 excuse for the quest aside from sport ; but accepting 

 the latter as legitimate I can conceive of no pastime 

 more exhilarating than this. An essential, at least to 

 my mind, to true sport for large game is a sharing 

 of chances with it. To go out with a rifle and shoot 

 the coyote would be to descend to the level of the pot- 

 hunter, but to hunt one of the swiftest of wild animals 

 in the open, follow it on horseback, taking the country 

 as it comes, is fair and honest sport to be commended ; 

 a sport in which the rider takes greater chances than the 



