HUNTING THE SEA OTTER. 103 



remembrance was so vivid with regard to early experi- 

 ments that, when the old fellow struck a match upon his 

 pants and proceeded to light a short pipe, we should have 

 felt little surprise had he flamed up suddenly. Even the 

 skipper, versed as he was in the mysteries of chain- 

 lightning and forty-rod whisky, looked perplexed. How- 

 ever, there was no escape, and, seeing no signs of volcanic 

 action proceeding from the good man's throat, we took 

 courage and "drank hearty." It was a Mexican drink 

 I forget the name prepared from the juice of the cactus, 

 not at all unpleasant, and, considering the rawness of the 

 weather, " very comforting." 



Our host proved to be a genial old fellow, and informed 

 us that the schooner was the Buffandeau^ thirty-seven tons, 

 and that they had been a month on the coast, and had 

 taken thirty skins. We spent a couple of hours in the 

 cabin, and left at five o'clock, when the fog began to clear 

 again, and after a couple of hours' row reached our own 

 vessel. 



