MY DEATH VALLEY GAME PRESERVE 



497 



the China Ranch on Willow Creek. This 

 was about eighty or a hundred miles 

 from Death Valley over toward the Ne- 

 vada line, but such a game country ! 

 Years ago a desert gentleman by name 

 of Bellerin' Teck imported a quantity 



Sec du- gay and festive quail, 

 Sitting <>n the mossy rail, 

 Watching summer's wistful ghost, 

 • Dreaming of die brindled toast, 

 Whereon he may shortly he, 

 Brown and crisp and savoree. 



The rabbit got his in this manner 



A MODEST BAG 



of Gambel's quail from Arizona and 

 turned them loose in this neighborhood. 

 Since then they have been shot but lit- 

 tle, have had plenty of food and water 

 as well as delightful ,md safe cover. 

 The result cannot be described ; there 

 were literally thousands of them all 

 through the bottom lands of the creek 

 and on Morrison's alfalfa field, in the 

 heart of the willow growth, the little 

 20 gauge was cracking nearly every 

 afternoon. 



It was while here that a very good 

 friend of mine, a Mr. Maitland of Lon- 

 don, England, nitre expert for our 

 party, composed the following lines and 

 dedicated them to the birds all round 

 about us : 



Up the hills and down the wold, 

 Over nature's cloth of gold, 

 See the frisky rabbit fly, 

 That he may not in a pie 

 Play a star part with a vim 

 That's distasteful unto him. 



He had other verses for other things, 

 but most of them have slipped my mind. 

 Peace to you, hale and bluff Britisher, 

 w r here'er the winds of destiny have un- 

 furled your flag. In far Tarapaca or 

 beneath the shadows of the Circle, suc- 

 cess go with you and a long life and 

 happiness to the wife and children at 

 home, of whom you spoke so often. 



Here, too, we saw many of the in- 

 habitants of the edge of Death Valley, 

 and from one of them learned of the 

 peculiar manner in which hunters of 



