numerous in number and much larger in size than the ones we first ran into.  We sat around resting a while, straining our necks looking for, the tops of those trees, all of which were way up there in the blue sky.  We wondered how many years they had been there, and what revolutions in climate and topographical appearance of the country they had witnessed.  Finally, having satiated ourselves with their beauty, we started on the return journey, which was made without incident, except that we disturbed a hen grouse with a fine brood of little ones about the size of a valley quail.

A Mother Grouse.

The mother bird flew into a scrub oak.  She there asserted the privilege of her sex and scolded us in no uncertain tones.  When all her young had flitted away to cover, still scolding, she took one of those long dives down to a deep dark canyon, flying with incredible rapidity, and apparently not moving a feather.  No other bird I ever saw can do the trick as a grouse does it.  We saw but few other birds on this excursion.  An occasional blue-jay, a vagrant bee-bird, now and then a robin, and once in a while a most brilliantly colored oriole made up the list.  Fluffy-tailed gray squirrels chattered at us noisily from the wayside trees.  They seemed bubbling over with life and motion.  We stopped at the Soda Springs for a life-giving draught of its refreshing waters, and were back to camp in time for lunch.

Flight of Lady-Bugs.

When we reached the Soda Springs, we met the most remarkable migration of red lady-bugs that I ever saw.  They were coming in myriads from down the main canyon and each side canyon.  They extended in a swarm from the ground to a distance above it of from ten to twelve feet.  Huge rocks would be covered six or eight inches deep with them.  Occasionally they would light upon a tree, and in a few moments the tree or bush would be absolutely covered, every speck of foliage hidden.  It was difficult to breathe without inhaling them, and we were kept busy brushing them from our faces and clothes.  They were all traveling in one direction—­down stream.  I believe that they had been into the canyons laying their eggs, and were returning to the valleys.  All afternoon the flight continued, but by nightfall there wasn’t a lady-bug in sight.

We tried fishing, but the water was too high and too turbulent for success in the sport.

Auto Repairs Arrive.

About two o’clock that afternoon our new floating axle and fittings had arrived, and in another hour the car was set up and ready for business.

The following morning (Sunday) we bade Mr. Hill and his men good-bye and started for Crane Valley.  The drive out of the canyon was a beautiful one.  We did not go all the way to Porterville, but went several miles beyond Springville, turned into Frazier Valley, and went to Visalia by way of Lindsay and half a dozen small villages, and from there on to Fresno, which place we reached at about two o’clock.  The ride was a hot one.  We drove through miles and miles of orange orchards, some in full bearing, but mostly recently planted.