336 REPTILES OF THE WORLD 



stupidly at the rays of a powerful lamp and may be 

 grabbed by hand before realizing their danger. 



As we floated into the bayou we played the rays of the 

 swivel lamp upon the various sections of derelict timber 

 in an endeavor to locate the low, gnarled tree we were 

 in search of. A few seconds passed, with our hearts 

 beating rapidly, when we beheld this on our left — and 

 vacant. Speechless with disappointment, my guide in- 

 voluntarily swung the lamp to the right, then raised 

 its beam in what seemed a futile examination of the 

 place. 



"Hey," he almost shouted. "There he is." 



And sure enough. Stretched in undulating fashion 

 on the trunk of a fallen tree, lay the big "cotton-mouth." 

 Huge he looked in the light of our lamp, his sides show- 

 ing olive green, while the rough scales of the back seemed 

 as black as velvet. Slowly turning toward the boat, 

 he gave us a glassy stare and a flash of forked tongue. 

 It was easy work slipping a noose over that wicked head, 

 when we swung him, writhing furiously, into the boat. 

 As my assistant, "Charley" Snyder, turned the light in- 

 ward and upon the struggling snake, the latter's villainy 

 formed a scene that lingered long afterward with us all. 

 Knotting and twisting about the pole, straining and con- 

 torting into uncanny shapes, jaws yawning and disclos- 

 ing a pair of fangs that dribbled with the deadly yellow 

 fluid as they rasped against everything in their reach, 

 the picture spelled caution for us. 



It was a job to thrill as we released the noose, avoid- 

 ing the well-aimed thrusts of the triangular head and 

 finally pinned that member to the floor of the craft with 

 the heavy end of the snake-pole, when the creature was 

 grasped by the neck. With Snyder holding open a 

 large bag, the writer dropped the serpent within. 



