In the Sierra 



its mother. But though greatly concerned, 

 the mother only called it back. That play 

 on maternal affection failed, and we began 

 to fear that we should be forced to make a 

 long roundabout drive and cross the wide- 

 spread tributaries of the creek in succession. 

 This would require several days, but it had 

 its advantages, for I was eager to see the 

 sources of so famous a stream. Don Quix- 

 ote, however, determined that they must ford 

 just here, and immediately began a sort of 

 siege by cutting down slender pines on the 

 bank and building a corral barely large 

 enough to hold the flock when well pressed 

 together. And as the stream would form 

 one side of the corral he believed that they 

 could easily be forced into the water. 



In a few hours the inclosure was com- 

 pleted, and the silly animals were driven in 

 and rammed hard against the brink of the 

 ford. Then the Don, forcing a way through 

 the compacted mass, pitched a few of the 

 terrified unfortunates into the stream by 



