The Sage- Grouse 219 



laughed outright. Presently the hawk stooped, 

 but, just before reaching the mark, swerved like 

 lightning to one side, then again made chase only 

 to repeat the performance. Finally the grouse 

 pitched, and stood in plain view as though noth- 

 ing unusual had transpired, while the hawk drifted 

 away, as if satisfied with his fun. 



The chase was very interesting, and while it 

 was fresh in mind there arose a mental picture of 

 a remote waste of sand, and overhead a blazing 

 sun. In the foreground, a dainty antelope going 

 like a wind-driven leaf ; behind it a hawk, rushing 

 on hissing wings, with fierce, telescopic eyes flam- 

 ing with the passion of the chase. Behind the 

 hawk the matchless steed of the desert, laying 

 down to his work and drumming the hot sand 

 with furious speed. And on the steed a hawk- 

 eyed rider, lean and brown, with thews of wire, 

 sitting his mount as though he were part of the 

 grand brute, and riding with the crafty skill, his 

 inheritance from a matchless line of swart ances- 

 tors. Through the glaring sunshine I seemed to 

 hear his voice ring like a clarion as he cheered 

 and urged his wild helpers through the dashing 

 pastime of the wild, free desert-born. 



Then another picture. The grand, gray levels 

 of our broad land, and from the ranch house a 

 merry party pricking forth with hawk on wrist to 

 renew again the most picturesque form of sport 



