Makch 30, 1897.J 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
223 
The last number (Feb. 20) was particularly interesting, 
especially the description of "Hunting on the Spanish 
Main," by J. P. Le Baron. That is somewhat familiar 
ground to me, for I have crossed the Isthmus of Nicaragua 
several times, and by the same token I call the lake of 
Nicaragua one of the most beautiful lakes I ever saw, and 
I thought what a lovely time I could have with a trim lit- 
tle yacht, in which to cruise along its shores. Mr. Le 
Baron's allusion to the peccary or mule-footed hog reminds 
me of an episode happening to a Mend in Tampico, 
Mexico, who was engaged to be married. The morning of 
the day it was to come off, he being debarred of the society 
of his lady love that day by reason of the necessary prepa- 
rations for the ceremony, and taking his gun and strolling 
out of town to pass away the time intervening, encoun- 
tered some peccaries, one of which he shot and wounded. 
This brought a large drove of them, which he found were 
decidedly belligerent, and perforce he had to take to a 
tree, which they surrounded, and persisted in remaining to 
guard. The time wore on with no signs of their departure. 
The evening shadows were falling. The wedding cere- 
mony was to come off at 8 o'clock and how to get down 
from the tree was a question. He tried banging away at 
the animals, but that onlj'- made matters worse. The 
bride and friends were punctual at the church, but no 
bridegroom put in an appearance, and after waiting a full 
hour the bride went home in tears and mortification, 
under the impression that she had been jilted. The 
bridegroom had been seen going off in the morning with 
his gun, and becoming alarmed at his non-appearance, a 
party was organized next day to go in search, concluding 
some accident had happened to him. They found him still 
in the tree surrounded by his tormentors and rescued him. 
The explanation satisfied the bride, and the wedding came 
off all right that evening, but the poor man never heard 
the last of it. 
A friend who went out for a day's shoot a few days ago 
came back in high disgust without a feather, and being 
questioned, said he found that every place that looked like 
good quail ground was posted; and as an evidence that the 
schoolmaster was abroad he put one of the notices in his 
pockets, which read as follows: "Doods with guns and fish 
poles are warned to keep off these ere premises. — Joe 
BuNCE. N. B. — I keeps a dorg." «' 
Speaking of signs reminds me of that of a Chinese wash 
man, who evidently had employed some waggish "Meliky 
man" to paint it for him, reading; "Ching Sing, Washing, 
Pinking, Ironing, and all that sort of thing," and being at 
a loss for a finish, had added, "We may be happy yet." 
There was a sign on a Sacramento street miners' hostelry 
that read in the old days, "Rest for the weary and storage 
for trunks." In those early days it had a significance, as 
there were no express wagons or impecunious gentlemen 
to tote baggage from the steamers. Every ragged, seedy- 
looking chap you saw lounging around had a pocketful of 
gold dust, and scorned anything like work, hence every 
man had to shoulder his own traps, and by the time he 
reached a house of entertainment was quite likely to be 
"weary." The first time I landed here on the beach from 
the steamer, after paying $10 for landing myself and trunk, 
I looked around for help to carry it up a short distance to 
the shanty of a friend, and seeing a colored gentleman 
leaning against a pile of lumber, asked if he would take 
hold of one end. Rather to my surprise he complied, and 
when I asked how much I owed him he replied, "Oh, 
nothing, boss; I specks I has more money than you has," 
which I have no doubt was the case, after my enforced stay 
of six weeks in Panama. Those were the days when a 
man with a wheelbarrow or handcart could earn his $50 
every day of the week. He would be a smart man to do 
it now in a month. Podgbes. » 
A STORY OF THE MATANZAS. 
Ottumwa, la.— Editor Forest and Stream: Mr. Fred 
Mather's most interesting and touching account of the trials, 
troubles and sad end of his venerable companion Geo. Ray- 
nor recalls to my memory an incident which happened to 
me during my rambles in Florida in the winter of 1876-77, 
which is of such a weird and uncanny nature that I have 
always refrained from telling it in pubUc for fear of injuring 
my reputation for veracity. However, a few of my intimate 
friends have listened to my tale to the end, but their re- 
marks have ground harshly upon my feelings, and it is some 
fifteen or sixteen years since 1 have related the incident for 
the last time. It was forgotten until Fred Mather refreshed 
my memory with his charming account of Geo. Raynor, 
My only reason for bringing the story before the public now 
is a desire to ascertain if possible whether or not there is 
any truth in it. I will give it as it was eiven to me by the 
victim one beautiful night in March, 1877: 
I had but a few days left for my sojourn in St. Augustine, 
and intended to gather what shells and sea beans I could for 
distribution among my friends. In a small sailboat and 
with a fair easterly breeze I soon landed on St. Anastasia 
Island, at a place called the Divides. This is where the 
waters meet when the tide rises, flowing north from the in- 
let at Matanzas, and south from that of St. Augustine. To 
my right 1 noticed a clearing about half an acre in extent 
planted with vegetables of various kinds ; at the end of it, 
among the dense and luxurious undergro wth of the island, 
stood a shanty built entirely of saplings and resembling the 
bamboo houses afterward seen in the Siamese village at the 
World's Fair in Chicago. I wondered how any human 
beings could possibly content themselves in such a house and 
such a place for any length of time, little dreaming of the 
terrible tragedy connected with it. Picking up my fishing 
tackle and an empty 501b. flour bag which I had brought 
with me for a container of my findings, I started for the 
other side. 
1 had barely crossed over the sand bluffs when a cloud of 
mosquitoes embraced me, which made a hasty retreat com- 
pulsory. For some time I did not know how to overcome 
this ditficulty. To travel half a mile through an atmosphere 
every square inch of which seemed to contain thousands of 
mosquitoes was simply out of the question. I thought of 
thefl om* bag — a bright idea indeed. I drew the bag over my 
head, carefully tucked the ends under my coat, stuck my 
hands deeply into my pockets, and boldly faced the music. 
Music? well, I guess it was! It seemed as if my head was 
inside a beehive filled with millions of enraged bees, and 
each cf them humming a dift'erent dirge in a different key. 
I could just see enough through the bag to keep the path, 
and the speed I developed in crossing the island was some- 
thing wonderful. I reached the end without any mishap, 
and as soon as I got over the bluff on the Atlantic side the 
mosquitoes gave me a mournful farewell and retired to the 
jungle. It seems they drew the line about 200ft., more or 
less, from the salt water, I have never been molested by 
them when close to the surf. 
It did. not take me long to secure all the shells and sea 
beans I needed, and to fill out the day I captured a lot of 
small fiddlers, and baiting my hook I started out fishing. 
But it was labor lost. The fish were not hungry, or the bait 
was not the proper kind; at any rate there was no sport in 
it, and I gave it up. My return trip was easy; not a mos- 
quito appeared. Great was my surprise and chagrin when 
1 found my boat missing, and in its place a rickety old flat- 
boat with a short piece of board in its place for a paddle. 
Here was a fine situation to be in! Would I have to paddle 
this old tub twelve miles with that rough piece of timber? I 
had fully made up my mind that some unprincipled individ- 
ual had willfully, premeditately, and with malice afore- 
thought, exchanged craft with me, and I was compelled to 
wriggle out of the dilemma as best I could. Just then I 
noticed a man coming out of the shanty previously described. 
To him I explained my plight: "I found my boat gone and 
that miserable old scow in its place; some scoundrel has 
played me a fine trick; how am 1 to get to St. Augustine in 
that thing?" "H'm! I reckon nobody exchanged boats 
with you, mister; that old mud-scow belongs to me, and 
there was no boat here when 1 came at 2 o'clock this after- 
noon. You landed here with low water, and your boat went 
out with the tide. You won't lose it though. I see you had 
it on the northi side of the Divide, and it has gone toward St. 
Augustine. Let us look around the bend ; we might find 
her on the bar." 
Well, we found her, but not on the bar; the mast had got 
caught in some overhanging branches close to shore, and in 
a very short time we had her back to the original landing 
place. 
How to get it back to the city in a dead calm I did not 
know, and I mentioned the fact to my companion. "Well," 
he said, "if a hammock in my shanty will do you, you are 
welcome to it. In the morning you are sure to get a good 
breeze to go home with." 
I gladly accepted his hospitality, joined him in his scow, 
and during an hour's good fishing got pretty well acquainted 
with him. There was something mysterious about the man 
that aroused my curiosity, and his actions toward me indi- 
cated that he was well pleased with my company. 
After supper we lit our pipes and several smudges, and sat 
down in front of the house facing the river, to pass away a 
few idle hours in contemplating the beauties of a Southern 
moonlight night and to listen to the mockingbird's songs. 
We had drifted into that delicious, di-eamy condition which 
overcomes a tired person just before going to sleep, when 
suddenly the hooting of a "distant owl came floating over the 
perfect calm of the night. Immediately my companion 
jumped to his feet, put his hands to his mouth and imitated 
the call to perfection. Again and again he repeated it, and 
the owl came nearer and nearer, and more hoots came from 
other directions. Suddenly a shadow flitted over the ground 
in front of me, and looking up I saw the bird lighting in the 
brush. This was indeed amusing, and I broke out in a 
laugh. "Hush," he said, "keep quiet; I'll give you a con- 
cert such as you never heard before in your life." And he 
did. The owls kept coming, singly and in pairs, until we 
were surrounded with them. There must have been several 
dozen, and the hooting was kept up incessantly. In the 
midst of this weird concert he related to me the following 
story : 
"I formerly lived in Milwaukee; my wife had a sister 
come to visit us whom I had not met before. An affection 
sprung up between us that outrivaled the one between me 
and my wife. The result was an elopement; we never 
stopped until we reached this spot, built this shanty, cleared 
what little ground you see here, and were happy and con- 
tented until a year ago last May. One day a stranger came 
to the house and inquired of my sister-in-law where he could 
find me, stating that he had been informed at St. Augustine 
that I was acquainted with the river and knew all the good 
fishing points, and he desired to employ my services. I was 
fishing; she pointed me out to him and told him to go down 
to the edge of the river and hail me and I would come after 
him. She had no more than uttered the words when quick 
as a flash he had his hands upon her throat and was stran- 
gling her to death. Then he came to the river's edge and 
iiailed me; I rowed over, took him in, and turning around 
to sit down I heard the report of a pistol. That is the last I 
remember. When I partially regained my senses I realized 
that 1 was badly hurt and 1 tried to remember what had 
happened, but I could not. I was covered with blood and I 
felt numb, and was breathing through a hole in my throat. 
I had not enough strength left to raise either my head or my 
arms, and soon I again lost consciousness. Several weeks 
elapsed before I found myself again among the living, and 
from then on I mended rapidly and was soon able to be 
about. 
"Meanwhile the assassin had been captured and held in jail 
for trial, I was the main witness against him. He con- 
fessed and pleaded for mercy ; the verdict was imprisonment 
for life at hard labor. My wife in Milwaukee was acquitted 
by the court, as there was not suflicient evidence to establish 
her connection vdth the crime. 
"Now all I am lelhng you," he went on to say, "with the 
exception of what occurred in the short time it took to row 
across the river after he had called me until I heard the shot, 
is the murderer's own confession. After turning my back to 
him to sit down to row the first bullet struck me in the head 
and made me uuconscious, the second penetrated my shoul- 
der, and the next my neck. Then he dragged me out of the 
boat, beat the top of my head into a jelly with a large cluster 
of oysters, cut my throat from ear to ear, rolled me into the 
river and then left." 
"Great heaven?, man!" I exclaimed, the cold chills run- 
ning up and down my spine, "what are you telling me? If 
you were not dead before he rolled you in the river, how did 
you escape drowning?" 
"Oh, yes, it seems miraculous; but that was really my sal- 
vation. The salt water stopped the flow of blood and kept 
me from bleeding to death. My face was probably not under 
water at all, and as the tide was going out I was soon left on 
dry land. My neighbor, who lives two miles north of me, 
found me late that afternoon, and with the help of others I 
was taken to St. Augustine. Come in the house ; I will show 
you the proofs of my story." 
I followed him, he lit a candle and gave it to me to hold, 
then he took a red bandana handkerchief from around his 
neck and raised his beard. There was a ghastly scar from 
ear to ear, the bullet scars were there also, and the top of his 
head was a sight to behold. The evidence was too strong to 
doubt his words, and I asked in amazement: 
"But what had you done to this man? What was his 
motive in doing all this?" 
"Well, you see, he was after my wife in Milwaukee, and 
she had promised to marry him as soon as she had proofs of 
our deaths; that was all." 
The owls had disappeared, the concert was over, and we 
retired. I put in a very restless night, and was glad to get 
an early start in the morning. 
If any of the many readers of Forest aitd STBEAMhas 
ever met this man or heard his story, I would be thanlsful to 
him if he would kindly inform me, either through Forest 
AND Stream or by maO, whether or not it i'i an actual oc- 
currence. O. VON HoiiTZSCHUHERB. 
II. 
The Forest and Stream cannot undertake to investigate 
all the yarns told its fishing friends by the light of the Flor- 
ida moon, and punctuated by the hooting of howls; but in 
this particular instance we have sought to vindicate Mr. 
Holtzschuherr's responsibility. His relation was sent to Dr" 
DeWitt Webb, of St. Augustine, who has written as follows: 
III. 
"St Augustine, Flu.— Editor Forest mid Stream: The 
story is an o'er true tal?, although strange to say I had never 
heard of it. The next day after the receipt of your letter I 
asked the man who drives for me, as we were riding, whether 
he knew about a tragedy that happened down the Matanzas 
River near the divide some twenty years ago. He said, 
yes, he knew all about it, and proceeded to tell the story 
substantially as your correspondent has it. The man's name 
was Keech, and he may be still living. The man who came 
so near killing him was namtd Newton, and was sent by 
Keech's wife from Milwaukee, she giving him the pistol 
with which to kill her husband. The evidence shows that 
the woman was shot in the back as she was standing before 
a glass combing her hair. I suppose she might have been 
choked afterward. Then when he had, as described, shot 
Keech and pounded his head to a jelly with a clump of 
oyster shells (and you know a clump of coon oysters would 
make an ugly weapon), he threw him in the edge of the 
water; and then wanting to make the job complete, turned 
him over and cut his throat. This brought his head out of 
the water, and the receding tide left him diy. The hemor- 
rhage may have brought him out of his insensibility. New- 
ton could easily have escaped if he had not stolen Keech's 
horse to ride away with; for, as he was passing George Car- 
ter's, Carter noticed the horse and went down to Keech's to 
find out about it, with the result of finding Keech in sorry 
plight. 
"Newton was arrested and brought to St. Augustine for 
trial. Mrs. Keech was arrested at her home and brought to 
the State. Her lawyer fought for delay, so that Newton was 
tried and convicted before her trial, and on account of his 
confession was sentenced to_ imprisonment for life instead of 
being hanged. His conviction saved her, because as a con- 
victed felon his evidence was worthless, and so she was 
acquitted. 
"Another informant told me that Newton was shot whUe 
attempting to escape from confinement some years after. 
And strangest of all, he said that rumor had it that Keech, 
after leaving the neigborhood of St. Augustine, lived after- 
ward with his wife in Jacksonville. 
"How will all this do for a plain, unvarnished tale of love 
and blood? DeWitt Webb." 
THE WOODCOCK'S WHISTLE. 
Lowell, Mass.— I have read with much interest the 
articles from your many contributors concerning the whistle 
of the woodcocfe. I know very few men who have hunted 
this beautiful bird more than I have, covering a period of 
about thirty years, and while I have not yet learned all 
there is to know about this shy and mysterious creature, yet 
I have come into possession of many facts by close observa- 
tion relating to his general habits and to others which are 
due to and contracted by change of locality. 
I offer the above prelude to these few lines to show that, 
while differing from some of your correspondents, I feel a 
modest degree of assurance that many of my observations 
have been correct. If these few notes, covering so many 
years' observation about the woodcock's whistle, meet with 
the approval of the Forest and Stream and its many 
readers, some time I might venture to air my views, which 
are due to observation, on some of the general and local 
habits of this singular bird, many of which are at the 
present time either in dispute, or not generally known. 
The young of the woodcock never whistle. I have seen 
and caught them during spring while following small brooks 
trout fishing, and have seen the mother bird early in the 
morning after a dark rainy night feeding her little one3. I 
have seen them when hardly able to fly, and when after a 
few yards of flight they would slowly sink to the ground, 
striking stones, sticks, trees or anything which might be in 
their way, just as young grouse do when learning to fly. I 
never saw a young bird that whistled. 
The feathers on the wings grow out before they get strength 
to make rapid flights. When well along in the summer and 
the birds have grown strong of wing and are capable of 
swift flight, then like the old birds that can fly swiftly; they 
always whistle during rapid flight. 
Most of your correspondents only recognize the fact that 
this bird whistles while rising. This goes far toward con- 
vincing me that moat of them see him only when hunting, 
and that the less audible but distinct whistle which he makes 
during flight is overlooked or is not heard at all. 
Many years ago, when mink pelts were worth $10, I used 
to put out my traps early in the spring before the ice was 
fairly out of the brooks, and often used to visit them at 
night, going over the whole fine if the nights were on a big 
moon. Woodcock were frequently seen and heard, often 
flying so near that they wbula pass within an arm's length, 
and as they were all old birds at this season of the year, 
every one had his whistle with him, and was plainly heard, 
especiahy if the nights were without much wind. 
During the summer months, while I have been in camp on 
the shore of lake or by the bank of some liver, these birds 
have often been seen and heard while flying at night. Also 
when I was softly plying the paddle or fishing at night 
woodcock have passed so near that they could be reached 
with the paddle, and on nearly all of these occasions the 
