492 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Dec. 9, 1898. 



the "tiger salamander " (see fig.) over the United States 

 and Europe, where they were very generally distributed 

 in the biological laboratories of the various institutions of 

 learning. The results of my own personal studies have 

 already been published {Science, Sept. 25, 1885), and are 

 of too great length even to abstract in the present connec- 

 tion. Fingers and toes, and even more of the limbs, of 

 these creatures will reproduce themselves, after having 

 been amputated, and this is also an interesting fact about 

 them. 



Personally I have never examined the spotted salaman- 

 der of Europe, but we read that the "body is covered with 

 warty glands, which secrete a milky fluid of a glutinous 



THE COWBOY— VOKLD'S FAIK, 



and acrid nature like that of a toad, and which, if not 

 capable of aif acting the larger and more highly-organized 

 animals, appears to be a distinctive agent to some inferior 

 species. Thus Laiirenti provoked two gray lizards to bite 

 a salamander, which at first attempted to escape from 

 them, but being still persecuted, ejected some of this fluid 

 into their mouths ; one of the lizards died instantly, and 

 the other fell into convulsions for two minutes, and then 

 expired. Some of this juice was introduced into the 

 mouth of another lizard ; it became convulsed, was 

 paralytic on the whole of one side, and soon died. This 

 poxyer is the only foundation for the long-cherished 

 notion that the salamander was one of the most venomous 

 of animals." The same writer asserts that "a copious 

 secretion of this fluid might damp a moderate flame for 

 an instant or two to which a salamander had been com- 

 mitted, and the animal suflCer no harm," and this accounts 

 for the other long-cherished myth ! 



Mind you, I do not vouch for either of the above ac- 

 counts and only give them for what they are worth. They 

 may be true, but I think it would take an heroic dose of 

 salamander juice to kill a good healthy man, that is all 

 I have to say on the matter. 



This contribution will not have been written in -vain if 

 it succeed in convincing a score of its readers, who may 

 have been influenced by previous and contrary ideas, that 

 a salamander is nothing more than a small, harmless am- 

 phibian, with a history brimful of interest, and at any 

 rate, in so far as man is concerned, its bite is not veno- 

 mous, and if you chance to be bitten by one you can 

 ignore such proverbs, as "if bitten by a salamander at 

 once summon as many doctors as the animal has spots," 

 or " if a salamander bite you, put on your shroud," and 

 the like. Further, I beg of you not to {mt any faith in its 

 saliva as being a sure cure for leprosy, nor in the state- 

 ment of a former time that a salamander has the faculty of 

 transmuting quicksilver into gold. Such myths are now 

 only entertained by the hopelessly ignorant and super- 

 stitious. In the history of all that is and has been, no 

 such miracles have ever been known to nature, and it is 

 quite safe to predict that they never will be. Myth and 

 miracle both have their origin in ignorance, and the only 

 radical cure for either afi:ection known to me, is a heroic 

 dose of a full knowledge of the facts pertaining to any 

 particular subject. 



Another White Rattlesnake. 



New York, Dec. 4.— I saw an article in the Foeest 

 AND Stream by El Comancho, about a white rattlesnake. 

 In the spring of 1890 I was on a ranch in the southwest- 

 ern part of Texas, about forty miles from BeeviUe; and 

 there rattlesnakes were very thick, especially after a 

 rain. We have killed as high as fifteen in one day; and 

 one week we killed on an average six a day and there were 

 only five of us. One of the boys killed a rattlesnake that 

 was very white except his rattles, they were light brown. 

 At that time I said it was born that way, and the skin 

 was thick and tough as any rattlesnake's skin. It was 

 skinned and stuck on the back of a saddle. But that was 

 the only one I ever saw or heard of. Fred Savage. 



The LinnsBan Society of New York. 



Eegular meetings of the society will be held at the 

 American Museum of Natural History, Eighth avenue 

 and Seventy-seventh street, on Tuesdav evenings, Dec. 12 

 and 36, 1893, at eieht o'clock. Dec. 12— Frank M. Chap- 

 man, "The Mammals of the West Indies." Louis B. 

 Bishop, M.D., remarks on the Breeding of Brewster's 

 Waxbler, with exhibition of -specimens. Dec. 26— Mrs. 

 Olive Thorne Miller, "A Rocky Mountain Study." B. H, 

 Dutcher, remarks on the Fauna of Montauk Point, L. I. 

 Erank M. Chapman. "An Analysis of the Bird Life of 

 the Vicinity of New York City," 



Arthur H. Howell, Sec'y, 213 Madison st., Bklyn. I 



AT CAMP LUCKY. 



When we broke camp the last of February it was 

 agreed to hunt there the following season. We had taken 

 a fine lot of fur and shot all the game we wanted near by 

 camp, and, best of all, there had never been a cross word 

 or jar between us during the five months we were to- 

 gether. The last of September found us on our return 

 over the same route as before, making the trip in the 

 same length of time, but working much harder owing to 

 the low stage of water. It was near sunset when we 

 reached the landing, a short distance from the camp, 

 whose roof was seen above the bushy banks. Our labor 

 was ended, we would soon have supper in our tidy, cosy 

 camp, and turn in early to enjoy a wtll-earned rest. 



But our pleasant anticipations were checked on entering 

 the camp yard on seeing it littered with piles of moose 

 hair, shank bones and scraping frames. The story it told 

 was plain enough. After we left a pack of Canucks from 

 from over the border had come in on their annual raid on 

 the moose yards, making Camp Lucky their headquarters. 

 We knew of several yards in easy distance where it was 

 probable there were twenty or more moose. We had shot 

 but one. All the others, doubtless, were killed by these 

 butchers and their skins unhaired to lighten theni. We 

 dreaded seeing the inside of the camp, and found it even 

 worse than we expected. The ground was strewn with 

 browse, bones and hair, shreds of filthy garments, cast off 

 Liiits and socks. Our pine-plank table, our pride as a nice 

 lob of backwoods cabinet work, had served as a meat 

 iiock. We had partitioned off a fur room at one end with 

 : edar splits. That had been torn out for fuel and a large 

 ; iile of dry wood went with it. 



When we found speech I allow it was not to breathe a 

 prayer. After fetching up our duffle and supplies, we 

 jumped in with a will to get out the rubbish, for it was 

 growing late. The browse in our berth followed the rest. 

 And when it was fairly decent Joe went to break browse 

 whfle I got supper. In a few days we had the camp set 

 to rights, including a new partition, for which we found 

 splits at an old logging camp a mile distant. 



This done, Joe started one morning to look for beaver 

 sign at a chain of ponds, leaving me to watch for caribou 

 at a pnnd a short distance from camp. This pond was 

 about a hundred rods in length and two hundred yards in 

 the widest part. On either side a narrow bog extended 

 the entire length, Avith many caribou paths, and was a 

 favorite haunt of that game. The wind was blowing half 

 a gale, but I got a sheltered position in the edge of the 

 black growth. It was about ten o'clock, and I had about 

 decided to leave when I saw three large bulls come on to 

 the bog on the opposite lower end. They were large, and 

 as near alike as so many peas, with great head-works. 

 They came on deliberately, and halted opposite me. I at 

 once threw up, but found it impossible to hold on so 

 strong was the wind A few yards in front was a stub; 

 this I gained and got a good 'brace. As I went I calcu- 

 lated on the allowance for distance and wind. Holding 

 well up and on the wind about l8in., I fired, and down 

 went the bull apparently stone dead. The one in front 

 turned calmly around and snuffed of him. He offered 

 another fair broadside, but I didn't want another. 



To get to that side I started to the lower end to cross on 

 a fallen tree. It was nearer to keep on the bog, but a 



AMEKICAK GAME IN STSS'F AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. 



family of beavers had built a dam that season, so it was 

 flooded in places and I struck into woods a little way. 

 With a parting glance at my game, which still lay quiet, 

 I hurried so as to skin it out while warm, but I was per- 

 haps t wen tj' minutis on the way and only to find the 

 caribou gone. In getting up he seemed to have swung 

 around as on a pivot, pressing down the deep moss mak- 

 ing a basin which was full of crimson water. I felt 

 pretty sure of finding him, however, as his track led into 

 a plain path which the others had taken. Evidently the 

 chilly water stanched his wound, which perhaps revived 

 him, as not a drop of blood was seen af ter a few first 

 steps. All kept in the jiath till it terminated a quarter of 

 a mUe at a low, hardwood ridge. Here the whirling 

 leaves stopped me, so I returned to camp. 



About sunset Joe came in with a bunch of ducks and 

 partridges and a good report of the beaver. The incidents 

 of the day were talked of till bed time, and Joe allowed we 

 would find the caribou later by following the animals 

 that would follow and feed on it, in which case it would 

 be worth more than if taken to camp. Carcasses of game 

 as well as the offal where game is dressed out, offer the 



best chances for trapping and are always availed of. I 

 have in mind a hunter who took sixteen sables at a moose 

 that was shot and lost. 



Some six weeks later we were assured the carnivora 

 were feasting by seeing tracks of fox, fisher and sable 

 leading in the supposed direction of the caribou. So one 

 morning we started with a couple of traps in the trail of 

 a fox. A fox has a better nose than sable or fisher, and so 

 would take a straighter course; for until comparatively 

 near the bait both fisher and sable tack and try back. We 

 made no mistake, for the carcass was found about a mile 

 in an air line from camp. The shot went clean through, 



THE INDIAN WARRIOR— WORLD'S FAIR, 



taking the liver in its course. The antlers were fine, with 

 twenty-seven points. These we cut olV with a portion of 

 skull and pate for a trophy; then hauled the carctiss on to 

 a knoll, chopped off legs and nf^ck, packing them on top, 

 and cooped all in by driving stakes closely together around 

 it, except an open space of some six inches at either end. 

 Next we roofed it with flakes of bark from a dead pine, 

 with large flakes projecting well out over the openings 

 where the ti'aps were to be, all weighted down with cuts 

 of green wood. Then were set two tilt-ups for the chain 

 of each trap to be fastened to, so that when caught the 

 animal would be swung well up from the *:round, secure 

 from injury by others, and as regards fishers, to prevent 

 self-amputation, as is their wont. The result justified 

 Joe's prediction, as we took off seven sables and a pair of 

 fishers, Pine Tree. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



[JVom a Staff Correspondent.] 

 Lost Opportunities. 



Vincennes, Ind., Nov. 33. — As I have before remarked, 

 Ralph Waldo Emerson was a great man. In fact, he 

 was so great that my parents named me after him, on 

 which account I have always retained for him about the 

 only lasting respect I ever had for anybody. I have 

 always felt, since I was named after him, that he was 

 right in my class, Ralph Waldo was all right, and as I 

 have said, was way up in his busines.s — of i)hilosophy. 

 Yet I have lately entertained serious doubts as to whether 

 he knew how to dry out a rubber boot, A good many 

 people don't. If Ralph Waldo Emerson, when he came 

 from a day's walk in rubber hip-boots, had taken two tin 

 tomato cans, capacity of about one gallon each, and 

 had cut the top and bottom out of each, and had in- 

 serted the thus cylindrified cans, one in eacli boot leg, 

 and had then hung the boots up in a warm place by the 

 straps he would have had a scheme for getting the air 

 into and the damp out of his boots, whicli would have 

 been philosophically correct and useful. The trouble 

 with Ralph Waldo Emerson was he didn't seem to catch 

 on to liis opportunities. You may search faithfully in his 

 writings on Power, Wealth, Culture, Beauty and all that, 

 but you will find no hint as to a method of drying rubber 

 boots. Some men seem to just tlirow away their chance. 

 Ralph Waldo had a real good start, once, but he couldn't 

 seem to keep up with the pi-ocession, even though he did 

 hitch his wagon to a star. This way of drying out boots 

 I found to be practiced by Mr. John Balmer, here at 

 A^incennes, with whom I have been continuing my quail 

 shooting for a week or so more. I have been chained to 

 business here. 



The Second Oldest Town. 



"Vincennes is the second oldest town of the United 

 States. Mr. Reynolds, the editor of Forest and Stre.vm. 

 has written a very interesting book about "Old St. 

 Augustine,'" and could make one just as interesting about 

 old St. Vincents, which even yet has a strong French 

 flavor, transmitted from the early days. Once upon a 

 time, a long while ~ago, three French explorers, one of 

 them, maybe, De Soto, struck the Wa'iash River on their 

 way to the great unknown inland country of America. 

 The Wabash was good enough for them and they went 

 down it a-boiling, because she was high that year. When 

 they had passed the submerged bottom lands for miles 

 and miles, and seen nothing but yellow jaunders and 

 opossums in the woods, they came to a high gravelly knoll, 

 on the left bank of the river, and here there was the vil- 

 lage of some friendly Indians. At this point the voyagers 

 paused. They lived there for a year or more, and one of 

 them married an Indian girl or so, in a fit of abstraction, 

 and remained there when the others pushed on down the 

 Wabash and the Mississippi, to eventually get it in the 

 neck somewhere in Texas. Still, the fellow that staid 

 behind didn't have any the best of it, for he died of fever 

 and ague to a moral certainty, though he sort of made a 



