230 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



We were so hungry and tired that we laid a blanket 

 under tlie waggon, and watched the moon rise up like 

 a huge lamp out of the sea, and listened to the distant 

 murmur of the waves. It was cheerful to find that our 

 horse had broken his picket rope, and gone goodness 

 knows where ; it looked like a camp out in earnest, 

 but FrauQois volunteered to go out in search of him 

 while I and " toother feller ^' took it easy. After waiting 

 an hour, we heard a faint halloo ! come over the sand- 

 hills, and soon after Francois made his entry, steed in 

 hand, and swearing sundry strange oaths in French. 

 The night was not cold, and we were almost inclined to 

 camp it out under the waggon ; but a good bed within a 

 mile proved an irresistible magnet, so we harnessed up 

 and returned to our shanty. Of course we found the 

 boss gone to roost, everything locked up, and the fire 

 out, so we had to go to bed with cold grog and no 

 supper. 



We let the ducks alone for the next three days and 

 shot quails — at least I shot them ; Fran9ois netted them 

 by wholesale for the Frisco market, where they sold for 

 never less than a dollar a dozen. As for the third party, 

 he went to work in an old-fashioned way of his own. 

 He merely lay down jusc outside a field of wild oats, and 

 waited and chewed tobacco till a bevy flew in, when he 

 simply potted them on the ground with an immense 

 single whichj he carried. On my remonstrating with 

 him, he observed that he came out to shoot quail, and 

 the more he got the better he liked it. 



It^s like the fellow that made up his mind to pay 

 a visit to New York and see his friends, whom he had 

 not seen for ten years. He arrived at New York and 

 drove straight to his hotel. Next morning he went 



