46 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 20, 1894. 



SOME CHRISTMAS SPORTS. 



Some Christmas sports that we witnessed recently in 

 the colored quarter of a large Southern city were suffi- 

 ciently novel and picturesque to call for a chronicler. 



For two weeks before the holiday the following notice 

 had hung in the post office, being posted on a large dry 

 goods box in which reposed peaceably a fox and a coon : 

 ' 'On next Christmas Day in the morning, a big race 

 will take place out by Jerry Simpson's old field. The race 

 will be between this coon and Pomp Cammell, butcher, ten 

 miles for $100 a side." The "old field" had been prepared 

 for the occasion by marking out therein a circular race 

 course some 5yds. wide, and inclosing it with a high 

 fence of palings, the latter too near together to permit the 

 coon to slip through. Eude board seats were placed 

 within the cirlcle. Ten cents gate money was charged, 

 and there was a booking office, liberally patronized, where 

 one could bet his money on the favorite contestant. As 

 the hour arrived the area within the inner palings was 

 densely packed with black humanity. 



Abraham Lincoln acted as herald, or master of cere- 

 monies. He wore a cocked hat with a high feather, a 

 field officer's coat bespangled with gold, blue tights on 

 his lower limbs, and twirled a marshal's baton. 



"Is yo gemmen ready f oh de race?" he began. "Has 

 , yo made yoh bets? " 



No objection being made he called for the contestants. 

 Pomp Cammell, a tall, long-legged negro, clad in tights 

 that left his arms and legs bare, entered the ring and 

 was introduced to the audience; the box containing the 

 coon was then placed beside him. "You Pomp Cammell 

 an' you gemmen know de terms of dis race, ten miles, 

 two laps ter de mile, f er a purse of $100, whoebber cross 

 de line fust on de twentieth lap, whedder man or coon, 

 to take de puss, an' de coon to go scot free. Is de 

 umpires ready? Is Pomp Cammell an' de coon ready? 

 Den go!" 



He waved his gay silk handkerchief and the contestants 

 were off amid the cheers, shouts and laughter of near a 

 thousand spectators. The raccoon, stimulated by the 

 hope of regaining its liberty, ran at its utmost speed, 

 though awkwardly, with the negro at its heels, the latter 

 making no attempt to pass it, his object being rather to 

 tire it out and so win the race through failure of his com- 

 petitor to come to time. 



Round and round the ring flew coon and man, followed 

 by the plaudits and exhortations of the spectators, until 

 at the tenth round the poor little animal, with an almost 

 human cry of distress, threw itself in a heap against the 

 palings and lay there panting, while Pomp continued on 

 and easily won the purse. 



After the cheering and congratulations had subsided 

 the leaders conferred together and again the herald made 

 proclamation:. 



"Pomp Cammell hab won and de coon hab lost. Pomp 

 Cammell now offers ter run agin a fox, de champion 

 sprinter ob Polk county, on de same terms as de previous 

 race, an' do challenge any one ob you gemmen to run 

 wid him." 



At once there rose a cry of "Bob Ash! Bob Ash!" and a 

 tall, loose-jointed negro was pushed to the front. "Led- 

 dies and gemmen," proclaimed the herald, "I meks you 

 acquainted with Mistah Robert Ash, de champi'n runner 

 of Manatee county, who will runag'in Pomp Cammell an' 

 de fox. Am you ready, gemmen? Am de fox ready?" 

 Being answered in the affirmative, he again waved his 

 handkerchief, and men and fox sprang into the narrow 

 course, the fox taking the lead in his break for freedom, 

 his brush elevated, his long, sharp nose pointing straight 

 down the course, and his feet flying like castanets in a 

 Spanish gipsy's hands. 



The men were not far behind, and again the matter re- 

 solved itself into a question of endurance. It was observed 

 that after the first round the fox slipped along with the 

 ease and lightness of a zephyr, seemingly intent on keep- 

 ing out of the way of his human competitors; the latter as 

 they lumbered along — in contrast with the fox — were 

 saluted with a torrent of cheers, exhortations, groans, in- 

 vectives, hand clapping and hisses, according as the for- 

 tune of the day seemed to favor or desert them. It soon 

 became evident, however, that the fox was a foe of very 

 different caliber from his predecessor. By the time the 

 fifteenth lap had been reached he was loping along as 

 gaily as ever, wondering no doubt when that long lane 

 would end, but fresh as at the start; while his pursuers 

 were becoming winded and in danger of total collapse. 

 Indeed, on the eighteenth lap the Manatee county cham- 

 pion stumbled, fell and refused to rise again. His antag- 

 onist held on and completed the twentieth lap; but slowly 

 and with pain, while the fox leaped gaily over the line 

 several yards in advance of the surviving champion. A 

 wicker-work barrier was then thrown across the course 

 before him, which turned him into a corral, where he 

 was captured and returned to his box. 



After the applause had subsided and pots of money had 

 changed hands, the box was taken into an open field, and 

 while the crowd stood at a respectful distance the master 

 of ceremonies thus addressed its occupant: 



"Br'er Fox, you am game! You am an athlete! Br'er 

 Coon was a baby, but you am a man. In open field you 

 hab run down de champiuns ob Po'ke county and Mana- 

 tee. You hab earned de freedom ob de woods, an' you 

 am gwine ter hab it. Tek it, Br'er Fox, an' 'lope!" 



He kicked open the box amid the breathless stillness of 

 the audience. Reynard appeared, looked about for a 

 moment as if to get his bearings, and then swept lightly 

 across the field, over the rail fence and into the forest, 

 followed into its recesses by the cheers and good wishes of 

 his natural enemies. 



In the afternoon there was a shooting match, advertised 

 for 3 P. M., thus allowing ample time for the eating of 

 the Christmas turkey. It had its inception in the desire 

 of old Jupiter Yulee to dispose of a patriarchal gobbler 

 belonging to him which had been offered for raffle to 

 three church fairs and declined by each. 



The match was held in an open field just outside the 

 quarters. The terms were a dime a shot, all firearms 

 except rifles to be entered. 



The ill-fated bird was tied to a stake sunk in the ground 

 so that only its head and neck appeared, and whoever 

 succeeded in killing it took the bird. 



I do not know that this differed much from other shoot- 



ing matches further north, except in the nomenclature 

 of the contestants and the quality of their firearms. 



Abraham Lincoln appeared with a battered old army 

 musket. Ulysses S. Grant with an old ancient flint lock, 

 altered to a percussion cap exploder. George Washing- 

 ton with a particularly dilapidated and disreputable look- 

 ing English fowling piece. Ben Franklin with ditto. 

 Tecumseh Sherman with a Springfield rifle, altered into 

 a musket. Phil Sheridan with a discarded breechloader, 

 which refused to work in the natural way and had to be 

 loaded from the muzzle. It was a very motley collection 

 of firearms indeed, and the visitor made a point of slip- 

 ping behind a colored brother whenever any one fired, 

 but strange to say no accident occurred except that Julius 

 Caesar and Wiufield Scott were twice nearly bucked over 

 by the recoil of their guns. On the twelfth round a 

 chance shot from Wendell Phillips's big ducking gun 

 struck the unfortunate bird in the neck and it succumbed. 



Atj&ustus St. Cyk. 



PADDLING DOWN THE PATUCA.-II. 



A Story of Travel in Honduras. 



(Continued from Page S.) 



A happy village looks down on the meeting of the 

 waters of the Pau and the Uampu, Pathless tropic forests 

 are on every side. In their shades the shy ocelot and the 

 jaguar prowl after the pheasant and the pavoreal, and 

 pounce on careless monkey or on vicious peccary. The 

 tapir browses at night on tender foliage, and dozes in his 

 bath through the midday hours. The mountain lion lurks 

 in the craggy hills, and the black tiger sneaks beside the 

 trail of the traveler, and attacks biggest of prey or fiercest 

 of foes. No Sumo nor Paya dare leave the firelight there 

 after dark. Too many demons and dangers haunt those 

 gloomy shadows. 



While bright day lights those woods the Indians hunt 

 and fish, collect rubber and gather sarsaparilla. Mean- 

 while the womenkind cook and beat blankets out of the 

 bark of the tuno tree, or they laboriously weed the plan- 

 tations, and bring from them canoe loads of bananas and 

 of yucca. Or they peel from the tuno trees great sheets 

 of bark, which they anchor with stones on the gravelly 

 bed of the river. And when the bark has rotted in part 

 they lay it in folds on the bottom of an upturned canoe 

 and pound it with corrugated beaters of hard and heavy 

 wood; they rub and rinse the bark in the clear river, and 

 beat it again until nothing is left of it but a broad sheet 

 of fibers intricately interwoven by nature's loom. 



White-haired patriarchs sat in the sunshine and idly 

 watched the women at their work. Nude babies swung 

 asleep in the shade of the thatched roofs, or crawled about 

 among dogs and pigs and poultry on the smooth earth. 

 Older children ran about in happy play, or gaily swam 

 and splashed in the placid river. Two boys slyly crept 

 up behind a buxom dame knee deep in the river, "bent and 

 busy with her washing. Together they dashed showers 

 over and drenched her, then turned to fly. They were too 

 late. She ran and swam and dived more expertly than 

 they, and quickly had them by the heels. Great was the 

 splashing and laughing before she let them slip from her, 

 and pretended to pursue again. 



Sweet cassava boiled in an earthen pot over the fire in 

 the middle of the hut. When cooked enough part would 

 be eaten as potatoes are; part would be rolled in corn 

 husks and roasted in the oven. The rest would be washed 

 and added to the fermenting yucca in the immense olla of 

 red pottery in the corner, that a cooling, nourishing drink 

 might be ready for any who might come. 



Over the smoking fire hung little sheaves of seed rice, 

 by slender cords tied to the slim poles on which rested the 

 steep thatch. Each cord passed through the center of and 

 supported a bowl made of the half of a big calabash shell. 

 When ant or mouse or other creeping~1hing may descend 

 to reach the store of food below the slippery surface of 

 that bowl it is treated to a surprise. 



On floors of crickery resting on round joists overhead 

 were piles of maize in the husk. Skins of deer and of 

 peccary, of monkey and of jaguar, lay on the corn. 

 Under the wide eaves hung a section of hollow branch 

 of tree, its ends stopped with clay. Stingless bees as 

 big as house flies crawled through a knot hole in its side 

 to store honey rich in flavor. Beside a rafter was stuck 

 the only bow I ever saw in Mosquitia. Near it was a 

 cheap shotgun and new paddles in reserve. 



At each rounded end of the house were beds resting on 

 crickery of split-bamboo, supported by stout forked sticks 

 planted in the ground. The beds themselves were thick 

 piles of tuno blankets and for covering the sleepers used 

 sheets of cotton that were once white, perhaps. Great 

 wealth enabled the chief and his favorite wife to sleep 

 under most rai - e and gorgeous bed-spreads of chintz, 

 whereon were wonderful pictures of horses and bareback 

 riders coursing around rings in raiment of bright colors. 



Half a dozen hammocks were stretched across the 

 house, and swung gently in the breeze what time they 

 were not occupied by some man or child, or thrown over 

 a joist to put them out of the way of the housewife. 

 Women may use hammocks there; no doubt they do 

 when no men are near, but I have seen no Indian woman 

 in a hammock when there was a man in the house. 



Mealtime came to that village soon after sunrise. It 

 lasted through the day and after darkness fell. Always 

 there were pots boiling, plantains or green bananas sput- 

 tering in the hot ashes, or meat sizzling over the coals. 

 Whenever a pot-.bellied youngster tired of play, he or she 

 plucked a ripe banana from the bunch swinging near, or 

 stuck a plantain up to roast, or gnawed the meat from a 

 bone. After that the growing hope of Sumo humanity 

 slept the sleep of the care-free and full-fed, until ready 

 for another round of jollity, feasting and sleeping. Surely 

 these neglected beings should have the benefit of mis- 

 sionary teaching. They do not know that they are in an 

 unhappy state of sin. They should be taught that they 

 are, in their ignorance, in worse case than are the 

 drunken, blaspheming, murderous products of our blessed 

 civilization. 



One morning my baggage was stowed in a long, low 

 pipanti hewn from a tuberose trunk. The gifts had been 

 distributed and the patriarch of the tribe had shaken my 

 hand in lingering farewell. A good-looking young woman 

 took her place in the stern of the canoe, her broad- 

 shouldered spouse pushed the craft off and I gave to the 

 assembled crowd my last greeting. We paddled away 

 and an old woman on the bank addressed a parting word 

 or more to us. The girl in the pipanti replied as we 



entered the current of the Uampu. The old woman 

 shouted another sentence. Our pilot responded. Again 

 the old woman's voice came to us and' our girl chanted, 

 an answer. Once more the message came from the vil- 

 lage that was hidden then by a bend in the river. Now 

 the chant was taken up by our deep-chested paddler in 

 the bow, who sent his voice melodiously back over the 

 water. So it went, chant and response, back and forth, 

 until we could no longer hear a voice from Pau. 



Except for a stop to gather a few pineapples and to cut 

 a bunch or two of bananas, we made no pause before 

 high 12. Rapids there were, but the two Sumos easily 

 steered the canoe so skillfully that scarcely a gallon of 

 water came over its sides, that were little if any more 

 than four inches out of water when in the still reaches. 



Before us a hill rose a thousand feet into the blue air, 

 its crest crowned by cliffs of white. It seemed not more 

 than a mile or two away. 



"El Rio Patuca," said the Sumo in the bow, pointing to 

 the hill. 



"Will we breakfast there?" I asked. 



My crew grinned and shook their heads. They did not 

 tell me that the whole day would be past before we would 

 reach the big river that washed the foot of that hill; iso- 

 lated outpost thrown far into plain from the hose of 

 mountain peaks in the south. All the hills we had seen 

 since leaving Pau were on the right bank. All were inde- 

 pendent knobs of basalt, of porphyry or of volcanic ash, 

 hardened by ages. As we paddled on they became sepa- 

 rated widely from each other. Each was clothed from 

 foot to crown by tropic growths, and on the crest of each 

 the soldierly palm royal lifted its plumes high against the 

 blue beyond, and above the heads of its more lowly neigh- 

 bors. 



At noon the girl beached the pipanti on a sandbar. Her 

 husband scaled a fish killed on a rapid an hour before. 

 The wife made a bowl of uabul, stewing a slice or two of 

 sugar pineapple with the bananas. I wrote a page in my 

 note book, and fell asleep on the clean sand while watch- 

 ing snowy clouds floating athwart the sunny sky, far 

 beyond the delicate fernlike foliage of the guanacaste 

 above me. 



'Twas a pity to awake from such sleep, merely to eat of 

 the fish and plantains, the yucca and the pineapples, and 

 the frigolitas or little black beans, than which none are 

 better. But the coffee was black and of excellent flavor, 

 and the Sumos enjoyed it immensely. Usually they must 

 content themselves with no better drink than chocolate 

 made of seeds gathered from trees growing wild in the 

 forest hereabout, roasted and ground by a pestle in an 

 earthen pot, and briskly stirred into foam by a carven 

 stick that bristles with little pegs. 



After coffee, cigarettes for the two Sumos, siesta for 

 me, until that girl again aroused me with a softly -spoken, 

 "Adelante, senor; adelante." 



I took my place in the canoe and closed my eyes to 

 finish my nap, but that girl seemed determined, to tor- 

 ment me without reason. She filliped a drop or two of water 

 into my face, and whispered, "Tilba, senor; tilba wass." 



This was Waikna tongue, but was shorter than the 

 Spanish, and she knew that I could not understand her 

 native idiom. 



The tapir stood stupidly surveying us. He was not 

 thirty feet distant, and stood as still as a stone. It would 

 have been a shame to have missed him. A cockney sports- 

 man could have hit him with a club. So I scored a clean 

 miss. The tapir went away. The girl dropped her paddle 

 across her knees and stared at the rifle and then at me. 

 There were no knot holes in the canoe, so I had no place 

 to crawl into. I tried to stare that girl out of countenance, 

 but gave it up. I tried to look as though I wasn't ashamed, 

 and gave that up, too. Then I tried to blush through the 

 dark tan and to sweat in my hot embarrassment, and 

 succeeded completely. I wanted to kick those two In- 

 dians because they said never a word in comment. They 

 couldn't say anything, because their dictionary has not 

 provided words for feelings of disgust. The very most 

 they could have said would have been, "He missed that 

 tilba!" 



But luckily for me the idioms of English are rich in 

 expressions that beautifully fitted that fleeing tilba and 

 the maker of the gun, and the man who couldn't hit the 

 broadside of a hill with it. 



I was not on speaking terms with those Sumos before 

 sundown was near. Then I happened to see a pavoreal 

 settle on a high branch before either of the couple with 

 me saw it. I know this sounds pretty fishy, but it's true. 

 Possibly the fact that the turkey was astern of us and 

 the Indians were facing forward, had something to do 

 with it. 



"It's a big chance against me, but I'll take it, even if it 

 bankrupts my reputation as a shot," said I to myself, and 

 stood up. The girl spoke one word and both sat as still as 

 the trees in the forest. The big bird fell with a prodigious 

 splash into the river, its breast torn open. I felt better. 

 I might expect to be well fed that evening, and a long 

 shot that brought down a bird surely was more creditable 

 than one that would knock over at close range a tapir as 

 big as a yearling bullock. 



We rounded a wide bend in the river the next day. 

 Before us swept a broad stream, golden in the glare of 

 sunshine. It was the Guayape, which is said to have got 

 its name from the guayapvn or skirt worn by women who 

 dwell in the region through which it flows. Guayape is 

 also the name of a people whom Humboldt saw in South 

 America. This may show that those people took their 

 name from the skirt; or that the garment got its name 

 from them; or that both got their name from the river; 

 or that — Scientists will kindly choose sides and fight it 

 out among themselves. 



Beyond the river rose the hills which we had seen the 

 day before. Half-a-dozen brown-thatched watlas stood at 

 the edge of the terrace between the river and the hills. 

 Broad, dark leaves of the plantain waved at us promise of 

 abundant food. A little patch of lighter green told that 

 here might be a supply of cider from the sugar cane. An 

 orange tree jeweled with golden balls told of refreshing 

 juices to be had, and two marafiones bore rich burden of 

 crimson and cream-colored, acid fruit, which obligingly 

 turns its seed out into the world, thus keeping its flesh free 

 of hard obstacles to tender teeth— an example recom- 

 mended to the peach and other northern fruits. 



This was a Waikna town, therefore my Sumos wished 

 i to leave me there. Pipantis and paddlers were there in 

 | plenty. The way back to Pau was long and full of weari- 

 some 'rapids. Besides, the Waiknas were bad, very bad, 

 I Did not they come up the river in swarms and carry away 



