330 THE STORY OF THE CROCODILE. 



of communication with the trunk stream dry up in the fine months, the 

 alHgator buries itself in the mud and becomes dormant, sleeping till the rainy 

 season returns. On the Upper Amazon, where the dry season is never 

 excessive, it has not this habit. It is scarcely exaggerating to say that the 

 waters of the Solimoens are as well stocked with large alligators as a ditch in 

 Indiana is in summer with tadpoles. By the natives of these regions the alli- 

 gator is at once despised and feared. On one occasion I saw a party boldly 

 enter the water and pull to shore one of these large reptiles by its tail; while 

 at another time two medium-sized specimens that had been captured in a 

 net were coolly returned to the water hard by where a couple of children 

 were playing. Sometimes, however, they have to pay dearly for such temer- 

 ity. The Indians of Guiana capture the alligator by means of a baited hook 

 and line, the former being composed of several pieces of wood, which become 

 fixed in the creature's jaws. 



One of the most remarkable things on the Magdalena River is the num- 

 ber of alligators. Their skins, teeth, and bodies even, might, it would seem, 

 be made a source of profit. When the sun is at the zenith, and the denizens 

 of the forest in silence seek the deepest shade — when no song, no noise is 

 heard — the alligator stretches its monstrous length on the sands, and amuses 

 itself by swallowing the swarms of flies. Then a negro, with his lounging 

 gait, will seek the water to bathe. The alligator marks him. Slowly, clum- 

 sily, he moves his uncouth form, and, plowing through the sand, seeks his 

 favorite element to secure his prey. If the negro is unarmed, he eludes pur- 

 suit; but if he has kept his keen knife, he awaits his foe. The alligator makes 

 a dash at him. The negro dives, turns and comes up where the alligator 

 started. This maneuver repeated over and over wearies the monster; and 

 the negro prepares for the attack. But where strike this creature, whose 

 scales return a rifle-ball? After a series of movements to disconcert the alli- 

 gator, he remains quiet. Again the alligator rushes at him. The negro dives 

 so as to let the creature pass over his head, and rising, drives his knife under 

 the shoulder, straight to the heart. But he fights on, and, though the water 

 is reddened with blood, he beats savagely till repeated blows complete the 

 work, and the negro swims ashore, leaving the tide to bear away his trophy. 



When the alligator is cebado — that is, in the habit of lurking around a 

 hut, the negro resorts to a novel plan. It requires cool energy. He takes 

 a piece of hard wood, about eighteen inches long, and three or four inches 

 thick, well sharpened, with a sort of shoulder where it begins to taper. 

 When he sees the animal at its post, he crawls slowly up to him, and, resting 



