294 Recreations of a Sportsman 



up the long vineyard streets, and shortly the 

 ground is harrowed and turned over, and if 

 the season is dry the vines are irrigated a thou- 

 sand streams of cool water percolating down- 

 ward between the black roots. Again and again 

 the vineyard is harrowed, no weeds nor flowers 

 are allowed to creep in upon this vast expanse. 

 And so the winter slips away, and the sand-hill 

 cranes and geese are seen in long lines against 

 the dark green of the Sierras, now headed to the 

 north. 



Again the summer comes, the vineyards send 

 out light-green shoots, that in a short time de- 

 velop big leaves, and the deep maroon of culti- 

 vated earth is lost in a canopy of green. 



The vineyard has awakened, and Senor Gon- 

 zales, w r ho has been cutting wood all winter up 

 in the Santa Anita Cafion, comes out over the 

 trail one morning, breaks through the manzanita 

 brush, and looks down upon the San Gabriel 

 through five thousand feet of turquoise haze. He 

 sees the fresh green of the vineyard sweeping 

 away from the mesa toward the sea, stops, in- 

 stinctively lifts his sombrero, murmurs to the 

 burro, "Mucho "bueno," and moves on down the 

 long, narrow, sinuous trail that winds its w T ay 

 across the breast of the Sierra Madre. 



