180 BIG GAME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



A detour of nearly a mile then brought us to a high rock 

 on the edge of this table-land, and there we sat down to 

 take a look. Below us lay the basin, well filled with dark- 

 green brush over waist-high, among which was scattered a 

 goodly assortment of boulders of gray granite. Carefully 

 we scanned every bush and the shade of every rock, and 

 turned a strong opera-glass upon every little spot of gray, 

 brown, black, or white. Plenty of such spots there were; 

 but, one by one, they changed, under the glass, into bits of 

 shade, glimpses of granite through brush, or the skull of 

 some long-dead ox, looking dimly gray through the fine, 

 bright leaves of the lilac or manzanita. 



The warm wind swept up out of the canon into our faces, 

 bearing with it the voices of the men gathering grapes far 

 away below; but there was no sound of bounding hoofs 

 upon the hard, dry ground; no crack or crash of brush, such 

 as are often heard when the Deer takes the alarm and starts 

 from his shady bed. Far below, but scarcely three-quarters 

 of a mile away, shone the white walls of the ranch-house, 

 with the broad vineyard lying in a dense mass of green 

 before it; and beside it the ripening oranges were gleaming 

 through the dark-green foliage of the trees. Miles away, 

 and thousands of feet below us, gleamed a broad silver 

 band beneath the western blue, where the mighty ocean 

 lay sleeping its long summer sleep of peace, while between 

 lay a wild array of tumbling hills, rolling table-lands, and 

 valleys dark with depth. On our right, on our left, and 

 behind us lofty mountains loomed through autumn' s golden 

 haze, some dark and soft with pine fqrests, others gray and 

 rugged, being mere piles of boulders, between which ragged 

 chaparral and scrubby oaks struggled for existence. And 

 all between, still bright with golden stubbles, lay broad, 

 sweeping plains and table-lands, rolling skyward in long 

 waves of rich soil covered with yellow grass or scattered 

 live-oaks. 



On any of this our prospects seemed about as good as in 

 the hills before us that lay around the vineyard. Yet it 

 was certain that the Deer had entered this little valley 



