THE SAN BLAS PEOPLE 



They were much interested in my electric 

 headlight, and they took me fire hunting. 

 To one who has never hunted a jungle stream 

 at night the experience is worth while. To 

 one who has there is a never-ending fascina- 

 tion about it. The thickets conceal glowing 

 eyes and the woods are full of strange noises 

 rustling bodies, soft footsteps, the whir of 

 wings, and the calls of wild creatures which 

 speak only at night. It is unsportsmanlike, 

 no doubt, but in a land of such dense cover 

 there is sometimes no other way in which to 

 get fresh meat. 



We supplied the village with fish, too, for 

 the streams were choked with giant snappers, 

 jacks, jewfish, tarpon, and the like. Our 

 rods and reels, our slender lines and glittering 

 spoons, amused the Indians at first, but when 

 we came home with the launches heavy with 

 fish and our backs aching from many a hard 

 pull, they accorded us deep respect. 



It had been so easy to establish ourselves 

 with the inhabitants of Cardi that we put little 

 faith in the stories of San Bias hostility, but 

 we proved them true when we journeyed 

 farther down the coast. 



At River Diabolo, perhaps the largest and 

 133 



