194 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



Henry replied: "Why, you bloomin' idiot, you might 

 live in the woods for fifty years and never see such a 

 thing but once." 



"Well/' drawled Frank, "after you've seen it what 

 does it amount to? You knew that mink killed musk- 

 rats, and what more is there to it?" 



Henry was dazed at this practical question, and no 

 one replied to Frank. What could you say? If a man 

 has no liking for a thing, what can be said to prove that 

 he ought to like it? We could only feel sorry for a fel- 

 low who had no care to observe animals in a state of 

 nature when they were unaware of the presence of man. 

 If a man doesn't care for literature, science or art, there's 

 no use talking to him about them. This may be illus- 

 trated by the following story: Two fellows had journeyed 

 from New York to see Niagara Falls, of which they had 

 heard much. As they came in sight of the mighty cat- 

 aract one said: "There, Jim! them's the falls!" The 

 other asked: "Is them the falls?" and added: "Them's 

 nice falls; now let's go and get some beer." That, I 

 think, puts the case fairly perhaps as strongly as that of 

 "casting pearls before swine," but not in such an offen- 

 sive manner. If Henry Neaville was alive to-day he 

 would spend a week to see that solitary animal a mink 

 capture and kill his prey in the manner one did when 

 we were fishing near Swift Sloo. Frank had no interest 

 in such things. 



We cut a stiff pole, and with our remaining oar poled 

 and paddled back to the tree top where Frank capsized 

 the boat in order to look at the wounded pelican. After 

 a survey of the bottom we found the spot where the rifle 

 lay, and I undressed and brought it up at the first dive, 

 for the water was not more than six feet deep; there was 

 no mud to cover the gun in the swift water, and it lay 



