She Mar bier 27 



The whole face of the slopes had changed. Cropped were the orass- 

 tufts; torn were the tenderer growths of sage; defiled with dnng were the 

 scattered faces of white, scarlet and pale-yellow flowers. Some curious steer 

 had found and eaten my white-rag signal: and the Horned Lark nest was 

 hence found only through that experience-sharpened sense of location which 

 becomes habitual with the bird student when afield. All, near the nest, 

 was despoiled and desolate. A bit of prickly pear, ground from its foster- 

 ing root by some treading hoof, lay just at the edge of the nest; but the 

 nest, itself, lay quite intact in the hollow so lovingly scratched for its re- 

 ception. And then, as I ruefully stood gazing at the close-by puddle of 

 cow-dung that utterly dashed all thoughts of negative making, two round- 

 up men came cantering by; curious to divine the presence, in those unin- 

 habited miles of waste, of a man on foot. The photographer gave instant 

 proof of his sanity; and one of the cow-boys quietly suggested: " You'd bet- 

 ter come and eat." 



Safer it was to obey than to decline. Moreover, the early-morning 

 lunch had done the utmost of its duty long before. And so, while the Five- 

 o'clock Shift were roping their horses, the naturalist, a thing apart, sat on 

 his haunches, within the tent, partaking of a stew more tender and juicy 

 than any of which a gourmand ever dreamed; eaten, in utter silence, 

 among a group of men as reserved and silent, that waning afternoon, 

 as they would be vociferous, to-morrow evening when, the round-up ended, 

 they would shoot up some saloon in the whiskey-ridden and brothel-de- 

 bauched sheep town, three miles away ; wantoning away the night and the 

 hard-earned dollars won by the stern rides of many a sleepless night, among 

 the stamping herds. Hurrah, then, for the poker game and the fast-emptv- 

 ing flask and ribald gestings with shameless women ! And then, at dawn, 

 hurrah and away, on the bronchos patiently standing, untied, still bridled 

 and saddled, along the dusty streets, — hurrah and away with one last whoop 

 and a parting shot and empty pockets, — away to the ranch, again, across 

 the ragged outlines of the plain: scaring the trios of covotes, in their jack- 

 rabbit coursing, with shouting medley of eager cries; and startling the male 

 Horned Lark who is out for the first mouthful of morning food, wherewith 

 to stay the hunger of his mate and of the ugly nestlings that are beginning 

 to quiver, with pangs of hunger, beneath the warmness of her brooding 

 breast. 



