that the last trumpet had blown, and the dead of all time were called upon to come forth in response. There is no one else in sight, and I see no chicken bones, empty champagne bottles, or other "sign" of a lunch party having been here. On the whole, I think I must be the first man up on this occasion. I wonder where that Bill is with the lunch basket? It is barely half-past twelve o'clock, but I was off at daybreak, and climbing rocky mountain sides, and pushing through tangled chaparral and the blackened stumps of thickets, run through and killed by last autumn's fires, is tiresome work, especially when the few pigeons you see keep half a mile out of the way, beyond the reach of a gun, as they have done with me all this morning. I would like to see Bill about this time. Hall-o-o-o-o-o-a! Hall-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-a! No response. Well, this is a nice place for a quiet nap any way, and the air is just warm and soft enough to make it a luxury. I will improve my time.
"Ah me!
The hours o'er which we have least cause to weep
Are those we pass in childhood, or in sleep."
The first haven't come my way of late, but I can put in as square a day's work at the last as any man I have ever met yet. The Madrono boughs are loaded down with great, fleecy masses of creamy-white, bell-shaped blossoms, fragrant as the magnolia, and I see the black and yellow honey-bees swarming over them, while their low, steady humming falls with a soothing effect upon my drowsy ear. Even so I listened to and listlessly watched them, as I sat be-
