SHOOTING AT SALT LAKE. 221 



myself against the rail of the boat, I held on till my 

 arms seemed about to bid me good-by, and the sides of 

 the boat cracked again and again. Then he stopped, 

 but just as I had dropped the line and started for my 

 gun, he commenced again. This time he untwisted 

 what he had twisted before, and commenced twisting in 

 another direction, and when he had drawn out the last 

 available inch, and I was thinking sadly what a good 

 boat this used to be, and whether my friends would find 

 me before dark, he stopped again. In gratitude for this 

 action on his part I ought to have cut the line and let 

 him go ; but no, my blood was up, and I determined to 

 conquer at all hazards. Carefully drawing the gun 

 toward me, I opened a ragged hole in the top of his skull 

 in such short metre that he hadn t time to tighten up on 

 the rope. Then after resting and reloading, I attempted 

 to roll him into the boat. This time he was as dead as 

 it is possible for gator to be, I knew ; but when, just as 

 I had him poised on the rail, he made a fearful lunge 

 and came down in the boat where I had wanted him, I 

 was astonished. I was so astonished that I immediately 

 jumped out on the other side, where the water was leg- 

 deep, in order to get a better view. When I had looked 

 at him to my satisfaction, I didn t get in. Oh, no. 

 That boat was only built for one ; two crowded. Though 

 his head seemed as inanimate as a log of wood, his tail 

 seemed charged with concentrated lightning. A little 

 wriggle, and the thwarts would fly in all directions. 

 A short, sharp rap and the boat seemed to crack from 

 stem to stern. If a dead alligator acted thusly, how 

 would one in the &quot;full vigor of early manhood&quot; act? 

 I began to fear I had &quot;missed my calling&quot;; that 

 alligator shooting was not my forte. The more I 



