The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1893-01-22

sulnluB Uuli6t5 OF young ITult anu tn6 Dedu-
tlful golden globes OF nearly ripe oranges
showing amid the dark foliage, all on the
same tree. Here is sturdy little shrub
scarce two feet high, but bearing dozen
great yellow balls that only need few
more days of January sunshine to make
them ready to eat BY February they will
have found their way to market.
Asyou have ridden along you have passed
more than one silent but eloquent witness
OF the last great rainstorm, and now you
come suddenly upon sorry sight Here is
large orchard, acre upon acre of tall,
young pear trees standing in some two feet
OF water. bitches have been cut in every
direction. You surmise that it was the
wash from one of them that made the cut in
the road that Madame jumped so neatly
little while ago, but it is evident the poor
young trees will be dead before the too
abundant irrigation shall have been drained
off.
Still further along the road a broad field
lies entirely under water. and tearing along
through deep cut beside the road runs
heree. dashng stream. foot or two in
width, that has ploughed its way from the
mountains, tumbling down mile or more
OF fencing in its mad career. There Is no
such thing as stemming the current or turn
Ing Its course. and here and there rough
bridges have been thrown across ii to enable
people To reach the road from their homes.
lmpellei by curiosity you dismOuDt, stand
across the stream and thrust loose rail into
the water. 1t goes down its entire length
without touching bottom and then is
wrenehed from your grasp and carried
swiftly along with the current. You retire,
with no desire TO experiment further.
Two hours since you started and 1t is
noon. You know it by your watch. you
know 1t by the sun; you know it by the
more than faint stirring within you of
yearning not wholly spiritual, and you
know ii by Madame suddenly coming to
halt before white. painted wooden build
ing whose sign announces To the world that
this is halfway house. Half way from
nowhere to elsewhere, you think, as a
fresh-faced, Danish looking man who stands
in the doorway comes forward and asks
now he can serve you. OIL have scarcely
recovered from your surprise at Madame
Tor stopping: but YOU are nothing 10th to
dismount when, upon inQuiTing, you learn
that dinner Is right ready now already"
and the phegmatic Norseman takes your
bride rein and observes you jump from the
saddle with as little concern as though it
were an hourly occurrence for lone women
IN divided habits To ride astrl0e Co his door
and dismount for dinner. You learn, after,
from hts buXOm housewife, who serves you
at the narrow table in the low-ceiled din
i groom. that they are new III 'CalifOrny,"
having but recently come from Minnesota,
so, doubtless, you reflect, they think II a
local custom She tells you she thinks
tbSto - tuo inucU ram III tuc 0OiucU Ctdtts
and as you go out after dinner to see
Madame and find her quietly mu1chiDg hay
in n single stall, all that remains of the
barn. from beneath which the rushing rain
had washed the underpinping and tumbled
the structure iuto mere board heap, you
are inclined to agree.
You are still fifteen good miles of stiff
mountain road from the objective point of
your trip, SO, after an hours rest You again
saddle up and sally forth. You have been
steadily ascending during your trip and
you are now fairly above the first foothills
ana actually among the mountains. Your
way lies through a narrow pass, leading Dy
circuit us route among the hills into the
next valley. Straight up, hundred feet
TT more, on your left hand. rises stone
blnH; straight down, almost as far, is the
descent, on your right hand, TO where a
swift stream bubbles and brawls its noisy
way over the rocks below Beyond it the
mountains rise again, clad in green, and
dotted with climbing grazing cattle, who,
as they pick their pertlouS way, look danger
ously near to pitching, head-foremost, into
the strea III below. Up, up. tolls your sturdy
mare, walking now, Tor the ascent IS sharp
one. gu wind around the stone wall at
your left, twisting along the turns in the
road, too narrow, save III occasional spots,
TO admit Of two teams passing each other.
The gorge through which the stream runs
is filed with dense underground and
IttiU6 CiUst 10 tue tUR6 you pun tNiR IRON
the t0pmOst bough Of a tall sycamore grow
ing far below. Buckeye and laurel grow
matted and twisted together; sturdy Cali.
fornia oaks, bent before the gales that sweep
through the gorge, and hung and enveloped
from head To foot in sm0thering mistletoe.
Lower down is q tangled mass 0f swamp
willow and wild raspberry aud grapevnes.
Clear up the mountains, Oh the other side,
climbs the rank growth. mantIing the steep
hlllSldes In the crimson and yellow and
brown and green OF It's varied foliage. Scar
let bayberries shine against their dark
leaves, and the Sllvergray trunks OF the
buckeye show white on background If
live oak. And all in and through and about
The varied tangle are evidences OF the small
life that abOunds here. Jackrabblts peer
ont through the copses; thick, long black
and white snake weaveS his way through
the fallen leaves close by tie trail, a coyote
sneaks across The road and disappears
down wash, and away up IN the top OF
tall dead tree sits great eagle, looking
down al It's clumsy wad Of a nest foot or so
below. 1t is still as death but for these
sounds. The shadows of afternoon are
already settling down, and the Light is dull
and gray, although it Is only little after
O'Clock. The air has grown chilly, for the
sun is hidden by high bluffs and you begin
to think OF unstrappiD2 your jacket from
the cantle OF your saddle when suddenly
your ears are pierced by the most unearthly,
fortunate as ta hear. 1nvoluntarily Won
draw rein. Is 1t dangerous wild beas
\ on dismiss The thought Ii itwere Madame
would certainly show alarm and she eylnces
none. Is it n human being in distress?
Surely no human throat ever emitted such
shrek. You have heard panther cry and
il is 10 panther. You Again comes the
horrible sound, apparently close at hand.
Ii seems as though onlv a lost soul in agony
could cry Hike that. You fairly feel your
hair rising and your teeth manifesting an
inclination to chatter
Madame looks at you wonderingly. At
the second cry she pricked up her ears, and
is now intensely regarding spot little
distance ahead, where III curlousy shaped
bay Of the cliff. is a thick growth of wild
vines. Following the mares gaze you
watch the spot. There seems to be some
thing moving, and as You gaze you hear
again that horrible cry. Enthusiastically it
comes from whatever IL is that Is moving
there in the bushes, and finally, impelled by
an Intense desire to know what manner OF
thing IS near, you urge Madame forward
In the little traveiing-bag siung over your
shoulder you carry a small opera-glass
Focusing 1t upon the moving object you
finally make the creature ont YOu have
seen its like before down in the valleys,
where the wise heads among the formers
know them for friends and protectors
against field mice AID gophers The soft
piteous, pleading. simian couutenance are
unmisiakable, 1t is a ''monkey-faced owl"
AT least that is The name given tie crea-
ture which you strongly suspect 20 be merely
California cousin Of the screech owl. with
the simian cast of features somewhat more
strongly marked than in the screech owl
proper Anything more pathetic than the
weird monkey-face and wriihing contortions
of the tnmhling feathered thing would bs
hard TO imagine. Looking closely you per-
ceise that 1t has broken wing and is I'M
able to do more than tumble grOtesquely
about the ground. II had lain hidden
through the day probably. and now, in the
growing twilight. was just becoming able to
see. Perhaps il is calling for its mate. You
know better than to approach within reach
OF those sharp talons and that powerful
beak. almost hidden in its soft brown aud