OH, SHOOT! 



terious drug. The effect, this time, was more 

 than imaginary. None of the Indians actually 

 died, but Wilcox tells me he has not been back 

 to the San Bias coast for over ten years. 



Having, as we thought, sufficiently estab- 

 lished our innocence of purpose, we broached 

 the subject of a hunting trip to the mainland, 

 but our proposal met with opposition. Cer- 

 tain of the Colombian Indians objected, on 

 the ground that we were doubtless looking for 

 land, and it was not without much opposition 

 that we were finally permitted to enter the 

 forbidden territory back of the coast. 



To avoid the appearance of overrunning 

 the neighborhood, Salisbury consented to 

 spend the first day trolling in the river, while 

 Billy Smith guided me through the jungle in 

 quest of "mountain cow" tapir. We were 

 off at daylight, in the chief's cayuca, and al- 

 though I covered many hot and breathless 

 miles behind my guide, I returned tapirless. 

 There is game in the country, lots of it. We 

 were constantly on fresh signs of jaguar, deer, 

 wild hog, and tapir; in places, the gloomy 

 depths beneath the dense roof of leaves was 

 trampled and tracked like a barnyard. 



Other trips followed, and on one of these, 

 130 



