My First Summer 



of fire was very fine, bringing out the sur- 

 rounding trees in most impressive relief, 

 and making the thousands of sheep eyes 

 glow like a glorious bed of diamonds. 



August 14. Up to the time I went to 

 bed last night all was quiet, though we ex- 

 pected the shaggy freebooters every minute. 

 They did not come till near midnight, when 

 a pair walked boldly to the corral between 

 two of the great fires, climbed in, killed 

 two sheep and smothered ten, while the 

 frightened watcher in the tree did not fire 

 a single shot, saying that he was afraid he 

 might kill some of the sheep, for the bears 

 got into the corral before he got a good 

 clear view of them. I told the shepherds 

 they should at once move the flock to 

 another camp. " Oh, no use, no use," they 

 lamented ; " where we go, the bears go too. 

 See my poor dead sheeps, soon all dead. 

 No use try another camp. We go down to 

 the plains." And as I afterwards learned, 

 they were driven out of the mountains a 

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