342 
FOREST AND STREAM 
AUGUST , 1917 
left for the ranch, where we found that 
Don Jose and Navarro had been as busy 
as we. We reported to the Don, attended 
to the tired animals and seated ourselves 
to a savory supper, to which we did am¬ 
ple justice. 
When the candle light came each man 
busied himself putting on new latigos, re¬ 
placing all weak strings in every part of the 
saddle, bridle and spurs; going over every 
strand of his riata, until nearly midnight, 
when we all turned in. Next morning by 
sunrise a messenger was despatched to vis.t 
the carcass. By early breakfast time he 
reported that there was about one-third 
gone; that where the paunch had been 
dragged over sandy places in roads, the 
bear tracks were so thick it looked as 
though they had been patted smooth by 
human hands; in fact, he could not tell 
how many bears had followed that trail by 
the tracks; for his part he thought about 
a thousand. 
“Ah! calabacero,” said Don Jose, “don’t 
you know that one bear will sometimes 
walk up and down the paunch track just 
for fun? They are devils. To-night, it is 
a sure shot on their coming again, as they 
evidently did not find the old mare until 
too near daylight to finish her, so to-night 
as the moon rises, we must be within ear¬ 
shot of the carcass, and we won’t give up 
the bear until the moon sets. She’s most 
likely to come in the half lights.” 
After breakfast we saddled up to our fa¬ 
vorites, and went out over the bear trail 
to make a guess of how many bears, and 
of what size they were, also to select our 
road for the raid upon them, and take in 
the accidents of the ground in daylight. 
The bear sharps decided that there was an 
enormous she bear, with three half-grown 
cubs, which would make it amply exciting 
for the eleven hunters. 
T HOSE horses were fed all the grain 
that was good for them that day, and 
were as well cared for as any Ken¬ 
tucky thoroughbred ever was the day be¬ 
fore the race, for we knew there would be 
plenty of hard work for them sometime be¬ 
tween dark and daylight. 
By early dusk Tuesday night, every man’s 
horse was carefully saddled and bridled, 
riatas coiled and hung on the pommels and 
the latigos left so that one pull would tight¬ 
en them sufficiently for the journey. Anx¬ 
iously we waited, loafing around the corri- 
ders with occasional glances at our horses, 
discussing the prospects of the hunt from 
every standpoint and relating incidents and 
accidents of previous hunts engaged in by 
different individuals. 
About ten o’clock Don Jose put new life 
into the circle by shouting out of the door 
of the house, “A las armas, muchachos, 
adelante!” (To arms, boys, forward!) In 
less time than it takes to tell every man 
was in his saddle and we were strung out 
on the trail by twos and threes. A finer 
looking cavalcade could not have been 
picked out for perfect pose in the saddle, 
mounts and equipment for the prospective 
work. 
Don Jose, sitting his beautiful and grace¬ 
ful tordillo (gray) chineno straight as an 
arrow in spite of his sixty odd years; Na¬ 
varro on his high-strung, merry sabino; 
Chato on El Mohino; El Cir, my brother, 
on his Arab-shaped Garfia cream; I, on a 
Sanchez with four white feet, and the others 
equally well mounted, set off merrily at a 
fox trot up the wood road and along the 
easterly bank of the arroyo through the 
Potrero Chiquito and Potrero de las Agua- 
ges, through the magnificent live oaks, 
which then ^bounded there, and came out 
on the mesa, just above the old Tejon trail 
leading by the Piedra Gordo, or Eagle 
Rock. There we stopped, and throwing our 
feet up over the horses’ withers, tied our 
spur chains to prevent their clinking against 
the stirrups. 
Don Jose rode slowly ahead, listened in¬ 
tently for a moment, then said in an under¬ 
tone, “The old woman has arrived, sons.” 
El Burrero wanted to know how he knew. 
The old man replied, “The dog that eats 
does not bark. Don’t you hear the coyotes 
yelling? In other words, the bear is eat¬ 
ing horse, the coyotes want to eat horse, 
but are afraid of her, so stand off and yell 
at her; if the bear was not there, the 
Where the grizzly is hunted today. The old San Pascual is now Pasadena 
