A PASSING ISLAND 251 



retirement; again were found men of intellectual 

 attainments desiring to live alone. The Basque 

 Crusoe herder I saw here had no idea of time or news. 

 He did not know who was President, had not heard 

 of the war with Spain, and did not care. He had 

 food in abundance and plenty of "Dago red" claret. 

 When he saw us coming he walked off, followed by 

 his dogs, and he did not like my holding him up and 

 insisting on conversation. The only subject in which 

 he was interested was fleas, and I thought of a Baron 

 Rothschild (or is it some one else?) who is collecting 

 fleas. To illustrate flea trouble, he took his big dog 

 by the tail, whirled him about and threw him into 

 the sea. It had never occurred to me that this was 

 a use for a dog's tail. I obtained from him a "sure 

 cure" for fleas, and I give it as tried out at San Nico- 

 las. You close all the doors, plug the cracks, then 

 boil ten gallons of salt water and pour it into the room. 

 The heat paralyzes the fleas for a second. Now open 

 the door, and the water pours out taking every flea 

 with it. So it will be seen that my Basque Robinson 

 Crusoe was an inventive genius. But when I asked 

 him why he lived there his reply was evasive: "Igno- 

 tum per ignotiusy 



This man had a comfortable shack near a sea-lion 

 rookery, and there were various appliances for caring 

 for sheep. This was on the east end. At Coral 

 Harbor there is a stone house, or was. If you do not 

 see it, dig in the nearest sand-pile and it will be found. 

 It reminded me of Mayport on the south side of the 

 mouth of the St. John's River, Florida. An old boat- 

 man of mine, a Minorcan, went home for the summer; 

 when he returned his house was represented by a sand 



