The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 20, 1896, Page 17

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUfi'D;&Y, SEPTEMBER 20, 1896. 7 A DARING BRIDLE TOUR | The Adventures of Two Girls Among the Northern Mining Gamps ‘A whole week!” sighed Anna. “Worse!” I snapped. “Nine days— and such a hole!” “We might go fishing and things with of the balsam of pine and fir and bitter| juniper. We knew that nearly every gulch had | hidden in it the cavin of a lone miner. | immenseto one used to buying wood by | the trail shows a woodcutter beatings ! The fresh-cut wood | & a delicious smell and the piles of it seem wedge into a log. the kidiets,” Anna ventured with her| These hermit men, relics of a past, live | the sackful. head on one side, ready for a sharpan- SWer. Anna knew my temper was some- what sawtoothed after 3 o’clock. “‘Haven’t we fished and done all the things 1here are to do, dozens and dozens of times, all summer? I'm tired of the | unto themselves. year after year in a solitude broken only | by quarte:ly tramps to the nearest store. T confes: to a liking for them, a wondering, respecting pitv for men who are sufficient | When we haa stopped to rest on a moun- cuildren. Iwantto get outof this hole; | tain top and tied the horses, we climbed | to climb up and peep over the edge and | breathe. I'm smothered.” “E—ow,” yawned Anna, the matter-of- fact. “Go to bed and dream we borrowed part way up a huge tower of rock. Anna | stood leaning on a fragment and sang, 1| Will Lift up Mine Eyes Unto the Hills | Frora Whence Cometh My He'p.” [ was Jule's horses to go on & tower.”” And the | looking down from a higher polnt, and I | blackness of the cabin door swallowed | her. saw in the trail an old man with white beard and white hair on hisshouliers. He Isatin the moonlight, gazing through | was listening, his eves fixed on the singer. the veil of discontent at the “hole.” It | I moved, and he raised his hand with a really was a hole, a deep basin in the | gesture commanding silence. ‘When the Coast Range, a place of rare beauty in all | psalm ended he turned from the trail and seasons. 1 had seen it buried deep in | disappeared. I wondered whathe thought snow, lying in aignified silence, and it was beantiful. I had seen it budding in spring time, every gorge a thundering waterfall, the oaks waving pinky tufts, yel.ow violets dotting the spongy hill- | sides, the sickly sweet of the white lilac in every breeze, and it was beautiful. I saw it now, beautiiul in the cool night following a hot day, the forestson the hem- ming hiils a dusky, melodious mass, as the wind-spirits playved on tue pines, the | ot the vision on the unused trail, and I | was glad he heard Anna sing. He will | | pever hear anything sweeter till he goes | | where the angels be. | When we came to Black Bear Creek we | | recognized it from the description. *“It | looks like coffee with a httle milk in it."”" At 4 o'clock we pas<ed the mountain bome j of John Da gett. *“Only eight miles now,” | Icheered Anna, “and some o' them level | | enough to paliop.” We did gallop reck- | When man and his iabor is left beh'nd there is nature and her work before you. P rhaps you never noticed before that the pines waves their reen plumes with only a stately majesty, while the cedars beckon and flutter in coguetry; anid that the firs show gray against the green as they sway. You note how lightning can blast one side of & tree and leave the other sid» green; and where the forest fires have swept, how the black stumos siand like tombstones in forest graveyard. You catch new tones in the wind music of the pines, not all mournful, but of exuitation and praise. You hear m the fiutter of poplar and cot- the ‘orest and catch the laughter in the sha low rili. ‘We cvertook the pack train, thirty little wules with the queer wooden saddles piled high with bales of mercnanaise. The bellmare walked ahead wiih the bellboy on her back, the mules followed in single file and the two packers brought nup the rear, s outing now and then to urge on the plodding animals. One packer was & Georgia negro of the most intense black. The other was a mountain Adonis, fair and straight. The language he ad-iressed | to the mules was eloquently profane. tonwood tue common chat and gossip of The Vision on the Unused Trail. 1'd rather ro up two bills than down one. It is 80 jerky and one’s neck feels disio- | cated and the horse slides sbout and | grunts so distressfully. | By 3 v'clock my shoulders ached, my knees felt stretched, and I knew we were lost. Anns urked in sympathy if I ached | much, and I answered, with a lame effort | D 7 \\\ I il Man, re ONELY, LIFE in the Wi Nature, and Sheep lderness Possibly the oldest occupation in which man is engaged to-day is that of herding sheep. It is mentioned in the first books of thie Bibie,and referred toas an eccupation of the most wor hy kind. The tidings of shepherds who “watched their flocks at night,” aud -ome of the most prominent men of history have put in many years of their lives canng for the gentls animals that are so useful to mankind. The metnods of watchine sheep have chan:ed very little since Biblical times, and strange as it may <eem many of the men at present engaged in it show the same dispositions men of several thou- sands of years ago are said to bave had. There is a fascination about waicbing }.uecp which appeals toa thinking mind, WK ‘5 “peace on earth’ was first given to the | to be funny, that Wells-Fargo couldn’t | express my suffering. ( Anpa lost ber bickbone and wailed. lost my temper and snapped, * ap!” Ilooked all around. Joyful vision! A cam fire and a man! Never since have I been so glad to see a man. Such a com- fortable man, too; heexpres<ed no sur- prise, asked no gue-tions. 1 '‘Ob, hush cow trail. At yonaer lone pine we would find the right We were on | the road bome, but had gone offen a little | ne, and in an hour we | white tops of the highest peaks sparkling | lessly over the level, and lost the irail. in answer to the stars, the riverscolding in | The next mountain wuas covered with | its black depths at the bowlders in its bed | thickbrush. Unable to find the trail we | skirting along the hiil ebove them we , ot abead and soon the trip, trip, was lost in the rush of the creek, wou'!d be home. 5.ould he wa!k ahead to guideus? Never! That would be ignominy | inveed. and iar off a ribbon of silver as the moon shone on the stream from the giant where the night shift were at work tearing down fought our wav up. Billy kept looking around so reprozchfully as tu.ts of hair were torn irom his sides, and I was so| ‘We rested long on the summit. In the | clear air of a hot day we could see so far But we soon confessed our inability to find our way in the shadow, and I started the hiliside for a lew golden grains. I was the teacher. Anna was the super- intendent’s sister. She had been a tower of strength to me during the last three | months and her presence made bearable | tired I had to wink hard to keep back the | tears. ‘What happened from the top of that hiil until we rode into Sawyers Bar is a blank to me. Annasays we meta manon the eye feit struined. I pointed out Shasta | and Muirs Peak in Caiifornia and Mount | back. He was tired of ail this philandering. Pitt and Piot Rock in Oregon. Anna | G vingz his head a toss he started off, ap- could locate the nearest valieys by the | parently over the edge of a ciiff, with such contour of the mountains, The immensity | an air that 1 gave in. I shutmy tited eyes of the picture oppressed us after awhile | and for an hour Billy plodded on. When back for our Moses. Billy wouldn’t go the thought of the three to come. But | this midterm vacation of a week, what| were we to do with it? Nine .ong, hot | days, with the glorious Fourth in the | midale. Jule was an Indian woman who bad married a white man. The man was dead, but Jule was very much alive, as were ber seven mixed children, four of whom were my pupils. 1 was airaid of Jule. She had a temper which broke easily into curses and butcher-knives. Sne had also | several horses and saddles, which for o | much money she would hire to the horse- and-saddleless. Anna's words of the ni-ht before | baunted me the next day, and finally I broke out with, “Why can’t we zo on'a riding tour among the camps in these mountains 7" *‘On stick horses?’ laughed Anna; ‘“‘we can’t afford any other kind.” “Jjule?” Iinsinunated. Annpa turned to face me with four hair- pins in ber mouth. “If you'd ask,”’ I faitered, “shi Fou—maybe she lend us two, and- Anps jabbed the last pin and crushed me at the same instant. “Ask a policel man! You’ll wait awhile before I venture | insde that Indiaz den. Ask her yourself | if vou are so brave.” Aifter awhile, “Will you go with me, Anna?” “Go where? Ob, yes, to Jule’s. Ye-es, I'll go, but you won’t dare.” 1 did dare. 1Imarched down that trail, found Jule barefooted, weeding her beans, end, disrezerdir.g all Anna’s advice about praising ber garden and her children, 1 plunged bead first into business and asked Jule to lena us horses and saddles. And Jule said yes without a curse, and offered to send ipem up, ready saddled, by 5 o’clock Monday morning. Maybe I crowed a little on the way home. Anna took it bumbly enough, evidently im- pressed by my diplomacy, though she calied it cheek. Now we must decide where to go, and together we planned a journey oi 100 miles in an irregular ellipse, taking in three mountain towns. Most of the trail would be new to us, but we had no idea of getting frightened or lost. The men were shocked and astonished, and in our scorn and independence we would not ask about landmarks or forks in the trail, meaning to trust to woman’s wit and the Provi- dence that cares for thefoohsh. By happy chance we found from a passing miner that the first dav’s ride would be in sight of the river until we came to Black Bear Creek. Of course wecouldn’tlose the way. | Basely deserting the old man, who longed | to tell us all about his latest patent medi- | cine, we ran to the cabin to pack our Sara- | togas. Mine was a liltle yellow grip, imp | and travel-stained, and Anna’s was a floursack. We put in them just what we had to bave and an extra calico dress. We went to bed before dark and siayed awske all night after the manner of those who wish to start early. It made me | think of Josish Allen’s Wife and their Pleasure Exertion. I will not say whether we rose 2t 3 or at 4, but at5 we were | ready, and so was Jule’s boy with the horses. The saddles were not side-saddies. We bad diviaed our riding skirts, knowing that the menly way was, in this case, the common-sense way. We tied our baggage behind, hung a bag of lunch from the horn of my saddle, mounted, looked at each other and laughed. It was a regular squaw outfit. Anna's brunette face and the wreath of red poppies on her cartwheel hat fitted right into the jiciure, but my blonde hair was incongruous and altogetner Dutchy. My borse was Billy, and Anna ro e Bessie. Both were common Indian ponies, shaggy, stubborn, lazy, droopheaded beasts witkout morals, and understanding nothing but a stout whip. Bessie shies | someiimes, and Billy was affl cied with absence of mind. He would stop sud- denly and begin to browse on tue busbes by the roadside. Thirty-six miles we had to go that day, most of them bring stood on end. Up and down we j gzed, toiling up one moun- tain seeming y for the pl-a-ur» of going down the otoer side and up another one. Scenery! Noend 0it! Grand mountains that were only masses of rork; others covered side and summit with pines; others - ith a crown of glittering white. The river, our guide, was aiways wi hin eight or sound. Now 1t would be right beside us. teliing us all serts of things in its queru ous su.mmer voice; now it was deep, deep down in the canyon below, a mere line of reflecied 1i ht. The stili air a! the mountain’s f «t was Lenvy with h- sceni oi sy-inces and stately mountain | lilies; at the summ:t the breeze was .ull likes | | | | written on our brow. ; wnich cannot be hid —up, and still up. amule and I caimly 00k my balf of the trail in the middle, almost pushing him down the hiil. It may be so. ‘We rested all the day of the Fourth and saw the town and the people. Bawyers Bar is a primitive place and unique. Until the last few years it had no waeon com- munication with the outside world, de- pending on mules in summer and snow- shoes in winter. The elderly Sawyers Barbarian does not desire to be a wanderer on the tace of the earth. There are two | places, the Bar and *“Outside,” and decid- | edly to be preferred is the Bar. He is con- servative, too, preferring to have his dsugnter marry one of the 300 natives rather than « foreigner. I tried to unravel the relationship between some of the much intermarried families, but my mathe- matics gave out. Eawrers Barisnota hole. It isa crack among mountains. The river flows along the bottom of the crack, and tne town is bung on the hiliside. The houses are so buiit into the hill thst the clotheslines beck of them are higner than the roofs. The one street is 0 narrow the teams which come in bave to drive through the town and turn on the ourskirts, On the morning of the 5th we started on the second stage of our journey. From Sawyers Bar to Etna is ouly rwenty-five miles on a new wagon-road. The last of the snow had been cleared off only the week before. At 7 we siopped for break- fast at the Mountain House, a haltway place of refresument for man and beast. | The California Sheepherder. Anna wondered which head we came under. During the meal five white rats ran sociably over the table. There is nothing appetizing about white rats. We reached Eina before noon and rested. Etnaisa commonplace little town of 600 people, the center of a farming disirict and at the vutlet of the mines. On tie6th we rose with determination There were forty- ne mues—trail miles—between us and our little cabin, yei we decided not td' sle'p until we were there We started while the morning star was sti!l shining and zalloped all the first twelve miles on alevel. Then came the mountains avain and up, up we toiled pust Callahan the beautifui, a hamlet set upon a will and Trail-riding is easy if one has no nerves. Drov your bridle over the horn, =it ste: dy, don’t siide over the horse’s head 1 goin: down hili or over his tail going up, and don’t get dizzy when yon watena sicre dislodeed by bi- feet go bouncing and rouncin until it strikes the river und sends up a shimmering founiain—thar’s a.. You will not fnd such a ride monot- onous. Now, fur down, you see some speck movin: about on the bank f the river. Chinese river-mining. Now you hear a heavy, beating souna and a turn in and we were glad to look down the trail. | Ilooked again we were home. Fired by e\ =2 the noble ambition to finish alone, we took | off the heavy saddles and opened the | sle door. Alas for the woman nature Neitber of us would waik pas the white | mule’s Leels, and she was in the first stall. | We waked the superintend-ni, turned | the horses over to bim, escaped as quickly | as possible from his sleepy sarcasms, and | sought the narrow beds of our own eabin. | Orive HEYDEN. | A CHILLY MORNING ON THE RANGE. Under the caption *‘Cruiser: That Oan- not Cruise,” THE CALL recently published 2 Washington dispatch in which attention was directed to the fact that the Beneroft and Cincinnati did not have sufficient coal capacity to take them across the Atlantic, As regards the Bancroft, that vessel was never intended for long-distance cruisine, notwithstanding a coal endurance of 5462 miles at eight knots was claimed for her by the designer. She was intended for a practice vessel for naval cadets, and her range of cruising is limited fo the West Indies and up and down the American coast within easy reach of a coai pile. With the Cincinnati, and her sister ship, Raleigh, the case is somewrat more disap- pointing, for these two vessels of 3213 tons were intended for cruising and chase, when necessary, such vessels as they could cope with. The inavility of our new navy vessels to keep the vea for long periods without exhausting their coal piy was discov- ered :hortly after the first v commissioned, and has been the Navy Depsriment tor at least six years. In the official descriptions of the new ships which uppeared between 1887 and 1891, the lar. e coal cerrying capacity, the small consumption and the consequent extended radius, were the special featutes which distinguished our vesseis as com- pared with similar types of other coun- iries. The Colunbia, Minneapolis and New York were especially pointed out as remarkable in the point of coal endur- ance, but actual practice has shown these ciaims to be littie better than guess work. It should be said, however, in justice to the present chiefs of the Bureau of Con- struction and Repair and of Steam En- gineerinz ihat neither of them made the e wild claims. In the subjoined table a list of some of the new vessels is given. showing the cal- culated coal bunker capacity in tons and the actual cupacity, as derived from official reports. —_— Coal Supply. 0] 1,800 1,800 Only one vessel, the Bancroft, carries apparently more coal than designed. The O ympia wus sengthened 10 leet and yet Ialis 212 tons short in ber supply, while the Castine and sist-r ship, Machias, were lengthened 14 feet, which accounts for their excess of coal bunker capacity. The following table, likewise derived from official reports, shows the coal en- durance—that is, the number of miles which the vessels were intended to run on the imil-bunker capacity—and what their actual endurance is at the speeds designated: SmIrs. Coum!ia ew York Brook yn. Kan Fra | Chariestor | Cineinuxti | De roit | tenn og o | Fan ron | Castin | Ore on A com parison of the N Brookiyn will show that the Navy Depart- ment has profited by previous exaggerated statements. The New Ycrk and Brooklvn have a dispiacement of 874) tons ana 10,024 tons respect:vely with bankers filled. The Secretary of :be Navy, under date of December 10, 1892, claimed for the Brock- iyn: “She can easily go from New York to 8an Francisco without recoaling.”” The present chief constructor, however, does not take so sanguine a view of the ship's croising ab v, ior heclaims an endur- ance of oniy 6033 miles, which, no doubr, will come pretty close to the actual per- formance. With the original coal supoply con- siderably reduced, and the consumption exceeding in some instanees the estimaie three times, the cruising capacity has thus been greatly reduced. Tue excess of con- sumption is, however, not due to faulty engines and boiler designs, for our naval muchinery has proved itselt phenomenally successful in all partientars. The esti- mate was made not by a practical engin- eer, but by some one wi:0 knew noth ng of that branch, and accepting the theory of the evaporsting properties of a pound of coal as correct in practice made ihese dieappointing prediciions of wonderful en urance. Then,again, American coal, ou an average, is inferior to Engli-h cosi, and asa resuil grealer quantities are re- quired to obtain results on superior fuel. Not all the coal nsed on the ships 1s expended on propalsion, and a large percentage goes toward distilling, galley, heating, electric-li-bting, steam-launches, winches and pumps. This percen.age is increasing with the introduction of lator- saving machinery on the new vessels. The prese:t chief of the Bureau o' Equipment direc s uttent on to the fact that while auxiliary machinery in 189 -94 used 29 per cent of the total coal expended on the ships the percentage durin 1894-95 rose to 466. The itemized cos! exrenditures on two well-known v-ssels will ind:cate 10 what extent coal is used ou vesseis of war: i w Yorkandt e! THOSE ENORMOUS COAL BILLS ut will face a lion and run from a mouse! | N | which possibly accounts for the fact that so many philosonhers of past ages have been shepherds. The solitude of the hills is conducive to mediiation, the changes of the sky suggest the Infinite and the sounds of the night come to the lonely watcher a8 voices of the silence. Many men who are at present in the hil's caring for flocks vow that they can bear the sound of voices at night ‘when they know there is nobody within miles. The California shepherd is an individual almost entirely unknown to the rest of the worid. Even the residents of the State bardly know of his existence, while the cowboy has a world-wide fame. The reason fort isis not hard to find. It is because the men are different in almost every way, particularly in disposition. And after ail ihe difference is toa large extent caused by the animals they care for. Tbe viliainous cowboy wi:0 would rather fight than eat and thinks that the noblest things in the world are forms of dissipa- tion can get no satisfaction for his nature in caring for such gentle creatures as sheep. He wants something that he can swear at, like a vicious -teer, that would be only too glad to gore him to death if he { wouid let him. He wants to dash wildly COAL EXPENDED. Dis*itting. Tota! anxiliary. Total for stesint Grand total tons 8,792/3,515 i It will observed that aux liary machin- ery consumed 45 per cent in the Columbia and 36 per cent in the San Francisco ot the t0:al coal used. The excess of galley coal in the latter ship was owing to the fact of her carrying an admiral, who also i has a separate range. No doubt during peace times some of these expensive auxiliary luxuries could be great'y re- duced, for a biil of $10.300 for one year on a ship carrying alout 400 men does seem a little steep, and §1200 for the galleys on the San Francisco ith 350 men and ome admirai comes rather high as compared with hotel expenditures for like pur- pose. Five years ago auxiliaries did not con- sume over 10 per cent of the total, bu: since then eleciric lighting bas chiefly belped to raise it to 46 6 per cent. The coal bills of the navy show a steady yearly increass, and with additional ships and unchecked extravagance may soon reach $1,000,000. COAL BILLS OF UNITED STATES NAVY. Fiscar YEAR. | | Tous. l Cost. s o i 66,594 £551,694 62854, 460,084 73,468 550451 8 439185 9% 38| 640,536 98,616 518,170 1n the Briush navy the exvenditures for coal used on ships during 189394 was $2,247.270. but Eagland bad 147 cruising vessels in commission against the United States’ 36. The United States is not alone in this predicamen’ of fancien endurauce of na- val vessels. Lord Brassey in his Naval Annuai of 1893 devotes considerable space to the subject. Says he on nage 110: “A point of very creat importance is that we should no longer be suffered by the Aamiralty to live in a fool’s paradise as regards the coal endurance of our war- | | THE OVERSEER ON over the range, on a pony as vicious as the steer, or himself for that matter, and ride through small settlements like a demon. The beasts in his care are not easily bart, and be can abuse them as much as he feels like, by lassoing them, throwing themdown end branding them. There is nothing gives & cowboy as much pleasura as branding a bull that has given him considerable trouble. He likes to see the the hot iron 1nto its flesh. To kill one that is demoralizing to the herd is the height of his delig 1t. In marked contrast to this individual is the sheepherde'—tbat is, the majority of sheepherders. To be sure there are :ome almost as bad as the cowboys, but they are for the most part men who are employed by ranchers for 50 much a month, and are delegat-d to the work as ithey might be to any other work on tbe ranch. But they don’t like it. The real sheepherder, and he is iargely in the majority, is the man who follows it in preference to anything eise. A man who is attached to the work would rsther watch sheep on the hills than be the president of a bank. Another class of men who watch sheep are those who do it for their heaith. Dozens of men claim to have been cured o! consumption simyly by putting in sev- creature squirm ia agony as he presses | - eral mon:hs at watching sheep. The work e ship-, more especially our cruisers. semi-official figures given from year to year in the Annual, beciuse no others are availabie, are misleadi g in the exireme, and it is difficult to believe that any naval enzineer had anv hand in preparing tbem.” Thie fanit is doubly serivus ‘or our navy from the isct that we hav: no coaling sta- tions to speak of outside of the country. J. E. gives what is most required in the deadly disease—plenty of fresh air, moderate ex- ercise and emplovment that is not wear- ing on the brain, but is still enouch to keep it occupied ana prevent nervous- ness. Of course if a man has plenty of money he can g-t these things without herding sheep, but there are many men who need them badiy whio have no money, and all who have 'axen advantage of this knowledge have surely been benefited. A number of men who have taken up sheep berding have become so {ascinated with it | that they have stuck to it long after they | got over the trouble. Of course, it is not an easy matter to get employment of thie kind, but if the | owner oi the range knows the applicant he will be aimost sure 10 give him work, | as he knows he is iikely 10 get good ser- | vice. The pav is small, abou: $25 « month | and provisions, which the man must cook | himself, exc pt when the sheep are close to the ranchhouse. But this does not happen often. It is no matter whether the sheepherder is an old or a new hand, the work expected of him will be the same under any circumstances. Sheep rances in Caiifornia are scattered all over the State, but the greater number of them can be found in the foothills of the Sierras all the way from Siskiyou to Tehachapi, and on the otner side of the mountains. The work of iooking after them lasts all y-ar, although more must be don- at one time than snother. In the spring of the year there is not much for the sheepherder to do, as grass is plenty after the winter rains and feed can be found almost anywhers. At this tme the flock remains near the ranch- touse in the valley and only needs occa- sional looking aiter. But as the summer advunces and leed gets scarce the flock, or banda ss it is called in California, must be driven to the hills. It is then that the sheepherder’s real work begins. Tne way it is done in Fresno County is characteristic of the rest of the State, dut the sheepherder’s life 1s if any- thing a little more lonely there than eise- where. Along about May the sheep are driven from the valley into the foothills and the herder follows them, carrying ail his camp utensils with him and sieeping on the ground with only the sky for a roof most of the time. In some places where there is known to be feed enough to last several days cabins of shakes are erected, but as a general thing the herder seldom sleeps two nights in the same place. As the flock advances into the moun- teins the herder finds things becoming more and more lonesome day after day until the time comes when be is absoluteiy alone with the sheep. Nota living crea- ture to speak to except the overseer, who goes over the range occasionally, or some other herder who leaves his charges a lit- tle while to get a few minutes’ companion- ship. The sheep are littie trouble and keep pretty close to the feed line. High in the mountains it is so scarce it keeps them busy to get enough to eat without doing anything else. All the herder has to do is to see that they are not stampeded by a wolf or other wild animal. The herder usually spends his time rest- ine or preparing his own food. It iswhen high in the mountains that a man has time 10 commune with nature if he wishes to do so. The almost barren hills lying under the clear blue sky and the awful silence that bangs over the world are all likely to make a man think of things he n-ver did before. He is really close to nature, and if ke does not hear voices in the night and even see forms througn the darkness his mind is of different material than the | average. As the season advances the silence be- comes more intense. The hum of insects that occasionally broke through the still HIS LONELY VIGIL. ness ceases. The flock is likely to become more scattered, as food is always getting scarcer, and the herder is likely to find himself a mile away from any lving being. In very dry seasons it often hap- pens that the flock will go almost up te the snow line on the sides of Mount Whit ney, searching for bits of pgrass and moun- tain plants among the barren rocks that are hurning under the sun that comes un- resisted through the rare atmosphere, and makes the world only a blinding glare. Itis this lonesomeness and deso. lation that keep a certain class of men out of the basines., but it is wonderfully rest- ful to a tired brain and strengthening to a | weakened body. Toward the end of September it is almost impossible for the flock to find food, and the overseer comes along and says that itis time to drive the sheep to be sheared. Pos sibly by this time tne herder has lost track o! thedays of the week and the knowledge of the month of the year is entirely out of his mind. Of course he knows the summer is on the wine, but likely does not know whether it is Sep- tember or October. At any rate he is most I+ 1 giad that achange hascome and wil 1uziy drives the flock over the bare hills to the shearing place 1n the valley. This is slow work as the poor crea ures are not very streng and water is sure to be sca:ce. After turning his charges over ts the Indian shearers the herder can take g rest for a w Some of them go to town and spend foolishly the money they bave earned, but the majority of them have other uses for it. An old Tuiare Conty herder named “Leon” Clark nas worked at the business a quarter of a century and saved severai thousand dollars.