14 YEARBOOK, PUBLIC MUSEUM, MILWAUKEE. [Vol. I. 



There were no trout in the hole, at least we had no bites, excejit 

 those of the over friendly mosquitos and black flies, so we whipped down 

 the stream to where it joined the Wolf. I was .somewhat ahead, and, 

 as I came out on the bank, what should I see on the river bottom but an 

 enormous snapi)ing turtle. The turtle evidently saw me, but, being par- 

 tially concealed in the muck of the river bed, it drew in its head, and lay 

 very still, waiting for me to pass on. Now, all that Spring Captain Sat- 

 terlee had exi)ressed a great desire to eat turtle soup, but his efforts to 

 get any of that delicacy had been fruitless. True, I did find him a small 

 snapper in the road one day, over near the West Branch, but, after he 

 had carefully prei)ared it his lazy relatives who reside in the house with 

 him had let it spoil, so he was disconsolate. The water was nearly four 

 feet deep, and cold, too, at the mouth of the spring, but the writer is 

 nothing if not a true nephew in the Indian sense of the word, so he 

 dropped his rod, and plunged into the Wolf. 



Now, a forty-pound snapping turtle is an ugly customer at best, 

 when you have him on land, and in the water I found 1 had caught a 

 Tartar. He pulled and I pulled, but at last I dragged him out of the 

 ooze and flung him on the Imnk, where I hastily scrambled, dodging the 

 powerful scissors-like jaws as best 1 could. I whooped for Jerome to 

 come and carry my rod and reel, and, always watching that terrible 

 biting head, I lugged the turtle into camp, a distance of nearly a mile, over 

 the hot, sandy road, .\rrived in camp I found Dr. Barrett hard at work 

 cooking, while Captain Satterlee was far afield collecting firewood. We 

 got a large wooden box, put our prize in it, and shouted lustily for Uncle 

 John, who presently jnit in an appearance, carrying a i)rodigious log on 

 his back. 



The conversation which ft)llowed is strictly according to Indian cus- 

 tom, for it is one of the inalienable rights of Indian youths to tease their 

 uncles, and, vice versa, for uncles to tease their nephews, and no offense 

 can be taken. Our conversation was, therefore, strictly conventional. 



"Uncle," said I, "do you call yourself a man?" 



"That is my nature," he replied. 



"Then, if you are a man, you will dance, seeing that a present is 

 about to be given to you." 



Forthwith Captain Jt)hn danced for us. 



"You have done well. Uncle," said I, "but this is a matter of im- 

 portance. Now. it is customary for you to sing !" 



Forthwith our uncle sang an Indian song. 



