teams, carts and California go-carts, all filled with persons who have the highest expectation of making a big haul. The high piles of dry drift-wood, set ablaze for the distance of five miles, the moon shining with brightest rays on the silver sand and phosphorescent water. Men, women, and children taking their positions at equal distances, awaiting the coming of the fish, which occurs when the tide is on the point of coming in. The theory of the fish coming ashore I imagine is something like this: the bay, at present, is full of a small fish similar to anchovies, the natural food of the mackerel, which, being a very voracious fish, follows the anchovy into the breakers, when, the incoming tide being stronger than the fish is used to, it deposits him through the breakers, often casting great numbers of them high and dry, but most generally depositing them just through the breakers, into from three to six inches of water, which causes them to flounder and squirm to regain their element; then the real sport commences, men and boys roll up their trowsers, ladies tie their dresses around their waists, and also pitch in to secure the prizes; when the fish flounders he is both seen and heard, as he makes a great commotion; the cry is given, 'There he goes!' when all those in the immediate neighborhood make for the hapless wight. Then look out for collisions; but here woman gets her rights; she has as good a right to the fish as her would-be superior, especially if she catches fish herself. But to cut a long story short, five of us caught over five hundredweight, and got home by six o'clock in the morning. Horse-mackerel is considered a very game and edible dish."
The afternoon was far advanced when I bade adieu to my hunter friend, took a parting drink from his canteen, rode down the hill into the open country bordering on the Bay of Monterey, and saw the grand panorama of the Valley of Santa Cruz, and the shores of the historic bay, with the deep, dark, wooded mountains, with majestic old Loma Prieta towering high above them all in the background, unfold itself before me in beauty to which tongue or pen can do no justice.
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