68 SUMMER IN A BOG. 



I drove along the meadow road overlooking 

 the stream, now shallow and silvery, but which 

 in times of freshet went tearing all before it. 

 We reached the woods. 



"It looks like the very headquarters of 

 snakedom off through there," she said, pointing 

 to the course of the brook through fallen, mould- 

 ering tree trunks, under the shelving banks and 

 slender, graceful forest trees festooned with 

 grapevines which bordered its meandering 

 course, to the glimpse in the distance of open 

 swamp and glade. I descended and tied the 

 horse to a fence. 



"1 have a book here for you to read while I 

 am gone," and I brought forth from its hiding- 

 place a volume of short stories. "I know you 

 will become so interested in this that you will 

 forget all about snakes. Whereas, if you went 

 with me, you would be so afraid, that all the 

 snakes in the region roundabout would come 

 out to gloat over you. I fear their greeting 

 would be like that the ploughman received. As 

 for me, I shall be so interested in seeking the 

 specimens for which I have come that I shall not 

 think of the poor creatures at all. 



"A few years ago a party of scientists from 

 the State University went to Guatemala. They 

 saw scarcely a reptile, smd those of a harmless 

 nature. One of the men wished to find some 



