Aug. 27, 1898.I 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
163 
to go further you are out of the gold belt and in a 
poor country to winter." 
Wc listened attentively, but the advice in no way af- 
fected our plans. Wc had set for ourselves a goal, and 
\vere not to be turned aside while there was one chance 
in^ a thousand of reaching it. 
Three months later we met men on the Hootalinqua 
and Marsh Lake who had heeded this advice, and they 
were all sorry for it. They implied personal motive's 
to the officials for influencing them to stay in their 
particular district, and were very bitter in denuncia- 
tion. Many of them had stopped at a time when it 
would have been perfectly possible for them to reach 
Dawson and get work at $15 a day for the winter, if 
they did not personally become claim owners. 
Mr. Caesar, of New York, who with Dr. Sugden, re- 
cently from China, runs a first-class woods hotel at 
Marsh Lake, belongs to this category. Caesar describes 
how they were held up at Tagish by waving his arm 
with a peremptory signal to stop, and calling out in the 
voice of a Coney Island barker reciting the attractions 
of the show for which he is engaged to draw spectators: 
"Stop!* Why go further? Fish, game and gold on 
Ihe Hootalinqua!" etc., etc. 
The Canyon and White Horse Rapids. 
From Bennett at the start there is seventy miles of 
lake and slack water navigation, across lakes Ben- 
nett, Nares, Tagish and Marsh. Then comes an inter- 
val of fifty miles of swift water before reaching Lake 
L.ebarge. Midway in this interval of river is the most 
serious obstruction to navigation between Bennett and 
the mouth of the Yukon. Here, where the river breaks 
through a basalt dyke three miles in width, are Miles 
Canon and White Horse Rapids. The canon proper 
is five-eighths of a mile long, and White Horse 
Rapids three-eighths, but the entire three miles is a 
continuous rapid, and the intervening distance between 
the canon and White Horse is bad enough. We 
reached the canon in the afternoon along with a crusty 
Welsh man named Kent, who persisted in telling us a 
grievance he cherished against Hadney, as he called our 
friend, the Weekly man. 
Just above the canon, on a rocky bar in'midchannel, a 
30ft. Yukon boat lay on her side, wave-washed and 
empty. It looked as though the boat had struck the 
obstruction while going sideways, and been turned over 
and over, and crew and cargo swept out and carried- 
down to the tunnel-like opening of the canon below. 
No one knew anything of its history, and there is little 
doubt but that its crew perished. 
Red danger signals and rude notices on the east bank- 
warned us to land, and as we were a little nervous we 
went ashore too soon, landing in company with three 
other boats one eddy above the usual point of disem- 
barkation. Later we dropped down to the regular land- , 
ing in a cove where there is a strong back current, 
against which it is very difficult to row. 
We were just in time to see Hepburn take a boat 
through. The greater part of the cargo had been taken 
out and a canvas wave-shield tacked on bow and stern. 
Two men rowed, and the pilot stood erect in the stern 
wielding his long oar, which was lashed securely to 
the thole-pin socket. 
The curling green rollers from the sides form a V 
with the apex down stream. Where they meet in trem- 
bling, boiling, white masses at the center, the surface 
of the water is from 4 to 6ft. higher than at the sides. 
Boats go through with the speed of a railroad train. It 
is best to follow the crest of the current in the center of 
the canon, and it is stated that boats that once get off 
this track are hurled to destruction on the adamant 
Avails. Boats have not infrequently dashed against the 
sides never to appear again, except as splintered frag- 
ments cast on the shores miles below, but their annihila- 
tion was due to the steersman's loss of nerve or accident 
or other cause, and not to the popularly believed miscal- 
culation in keeping to the "exact center of the channel. 
This I know, because I have been close to the walls 
of the canon, and found, as one would naturally sup- 
pose, that the tendency of the current is off shore and to 
the center of the river, where the friction is least. 
Hepburn's boat went through like a bolt from a cross 
bow, traversing the mile from landing to landing in less 
than three minutes. It met with a momentary check 
to its impetuous course half way through the canon at 
the place called "The Eye." Here a whirlpool has hol- 
lowed out a circular basin several hundred feet across 
full of conflicting currents. Below this the canon re- 
sumes its normal width of 100ft, and 100ft. is the average 
height of its walls. 
Shooting the Canyon. 
Mac^and I began packing our supplies across the 
portage the morning after reaching the canon. We 
carried two 5olb. sacks of flour or its equivalent to a 
load, and took two-minute rests three times on the way 
at places where trees had fallen and lay the right distance 
above the ground to stead3 r our packs upon. 
Our first intention was to pack the entire outfit across, 
boats and everything, but an investigation of the rapids 
below the canon made about noon resulted in a change 
in our programme. These rapids appeared to be al- 
most as bad as the canon, and there was no way of 
escaping them, as the portage around White Horse is 
on the best or opposite side of the river from the canon 
portage. We were in for it anyway, and the canon 
would not go bad as a flyer. 
If we could have escaped all the rapids, I should 
have been content to give up the time necessary for 
carrying around, but as that was an impossibility I was 
glad that the necessity had been forced upon us of tak- 
ing the risk. We should save much valuable time, and 
I had the utmost confidence in our little boats. 
Mac at first would not hear of my going through 
alone. I only got the best of the argument when I gave 
it a materialistic turn and told him that the goods would 
be safer in my hands, and that if he lost a boat load 
going through the canon it might prevent our wintering 
in Dawson, as he well knew we could not afford to lose 
a pound of food. 
I made one trip that afternoon, and the little 12ft. boat 
went through like a bird. I was drenched to the skin 
by the spray, and shinped a few buckets of water, but 
that was all. I carried 40olbs. of cargo, which not only 
expedited our packing, but also was necessary to ballast 
the boat and keep her from tossing me out. 
My second trip of the following day, or third in all, was 
an eventful one. Some acquaintances on the Skagway 
trail happened along just as I was about to start. There 
was Leonard, who (old me on the portage between Mid- 
dle and Summit lakes how he helped to exterminate the 
buffalo, and Montgomery, with whom I spent a wild 
night in the tent of a third party, unknown to either of 
us, and two or three others with whom we were on 
speaking terms. 
These men wanted to see a boat shoot the rapids, and 
they ran around to a point near the Eye where they 
could have a good view. I was uneasy about the trip, and 
had a premonition that something would go wrong. 
The idea of spectators annoyed me, and incidentally while 
talking with them I had neglected the precaution taken 
in former trips of making fast both oarlocks close up to 
the sockets. The chains to which they were attached 
gave 3 or 4m. play and waves were likely to unship 
them. Fortunately, however, 011c oarlock was already 
so fastened. 
The particular boat whose turn it was to make the 
trip was, as we afterward became convinced, our hoodoo. 
She had been more roughly used than the others, and 
had in measure lost her graceful curves, having less 
rise fore and aft than they. She was covered almost 
completely over with canvas, which was raised on pole 
tripods placed a few feet from the ends, so as to shed 
water,, and only a narrow slit in the center was open. I 
knelt in the bottom of the boat with a sack of flour at 
each thigh for a brace, and propelled the boat by push- 
ing, which enabled me to face the rapids and see just 
where I was going. 
From the great pool above one can see no entrance 
to the canon. The current sweeps down oilily toward a 
wall of rock which appears to dam the river. The 
roar of many waters is in the air, however, and one 
notices that the wild ducks carried within 50yds. of the 
obstructing mass take wing and Hy back up the river. 
Of a sudden the damp, misty gap opens, and in place 
of the smooth surface a long vista of leaping, ghost- 
white masses of foam. These have the peculiarity of 
appearing and disappearing always in the same place. 
They do not advance like ocean waves, but at one 
particular and unchangeable spot execute fantastic 
movements, witch-like, uncanny, genuflexuous wavings 
of phantom arms, turning and becoming forever re- 
peated in the same unvarying way. 
Just before reaching the Eye a wave struck my left 
oar and threw the oarlock out of the socket. By 
alternately pulling and pushing with the remain- 
ing oar, I kept the boat head on till the roughest water 
was passed, and the boat shot out in the somewhat 
smoother surface of the whirlpool. 
I had to get that oarlock back again before I could 
cross the seething cauldron and take the second drop of 
the canon, so I turned my eyes from the water ahead 
for a moment, reached out and replaced the oarlock. 
The same instant one of the minor swirls of the whirl- 
pool caught the boat and whisked her about like a 
feather in the wind, and the green water came in 6in. 
deep over the right gunwale. Instinctively I threw my 
weight to the opposite side of the boat and succeeded in 
raising the submerged side before the boat quite filled. 
Simultaneously the oarlock which caused the trouble 
broke its fastening and slid off the end of the oar to 
the bottom of the canon. 
I took a breathing spell to consider my position. The 
boat was full of water washing from side to side, so that 
it was like riding a bicycle to steady her. She was 
being sucked down toward the second part of the canon, 
where in her present condition she could not survive a 
single wave. I was wet and cold, but I drew some 
consolation from the fact that I had on moccasins and 
should not be greatly handicapped if it came to swim- 
ming. The worst feature of it all was the spectators on 
the ledge above. Of course, the situation was realized in 
an instant of time. Under such circumstances one has 
to think quickly. I saw that I had to get to shore some 
way to repair damages, and the oarlock socket, which 
projected }iin. above the gunwale, offered a fulcrum for 
rowing. 
I put my loose oar against that and using both pushed 
for all I was worth. The boat advanced a trifle, wabbling 
from side to side, and threatening to give up and go 
under any instant. Inch by inch I drew away from the 
suction of the rapid, and eventually had her in the 
swing of the whirlpool, and the worst was over. 
On the west bank a tree had fallen down from the 
forest above, and a portion of its branches projected 
into the water. I caught this and made fast the boat. 
Then I took my slicker hat and bailed her out, cut a 
piece of small rope ift. long and tied the loose oar to 
the socket, and pushed out into the current again. 
I rowed, and with the headway acquired broke loose 
from the grip of the whirlpool, and entered the second 
part of the rapid, and in a fraction of time was safe at 
the landing below, where Mac was waiting my arrival 
in a very uncomfortable frame of mind, having heard a 
rumor that the boat had been swamped. 
I took all four boats through Miles Canon in turn, and 
we carried one back and got our tent and camp outfit, 
and made a fifth trip through to a point just above 
White Horse that same afternoon, 
J. B. BURNHAM. 
African Skins. 
In Mashonaland and Central Africa the trade in skins 
still flourishes, though only the poorest of the Boers 
follow it, and they have to trek north of the Limpopo. 
The hides of the larger bucks, such as the sable antelope, 
the roan antelope, the hartebeest, or of any of the zebras, 
are worth 8s. or 9s. each, and ; there is now something to 
be made by selling heads ' and horns as curiosities. 
Leather made from the skins of these big antelopes is 
still in common use in high^class bootmaking. No one 
knows exact!}' what animal may not have supplied the 
uppers or soles of his footgear, and the possibilities 
range from the porpoise and the arctic hair seal to the 
blesbok or the koodoo. Three other African animals' 
skins are in commercial demand for curiously different 
purposes. 
The giraffes, as every one knows, are killed so that 
their skins may be made into sandals for natives and 
sjambok whips for colonists. In the Soudan they arc 
also killed for the sake of their hides, which are made 
into shields. Many of the dervish shields captured dur- 
ing their attempt to invade Egypt under the Emir 
Njurni were made of this material. The elephant and 
rhinoceros skins go to Sheffield. There they are used to 
face the wheels used in polishing steel cutlery. No other 
material is equally satisfactory, and it would be most 
difficult to find a substitute. 
The rhinoceros skin used was formerly that of the 
white rhinoceros. Now that this species is extinct, the 
black rhinoceros of Central Africa is killed for the pur- 
pose. Much of this immensely thick skin, which is not 
tanned, but used in the raw state, never leaves Africa. It 
is in great demand for making the round shields used 
by the Arabs and Abyssinians. A black rhinoceros's 
hide yields eight large squares, each of which will make 
a round shield 2ft. in diameter, and each of these squares, 
even in the Soudan, is worth $2. The skin when scraped 
and polished is semi-transparent, like hard gelatine, and 
takes a high polish. Giraffe skin is even more valued 
as material for shields, as it is equally hard and lighter. 
Thus, while the South African giraffes are killed off to 
supply whips, those of North Central Africa are hunted 
to provide the Mahdi's Arabs with shields. — London 
Spectator. 
A Fighting Snake, 
What "Uncle Sam's" loss is, in not fwrving Fred 
Mather wearing the blue, we do not know. Our gain 
in having him writing for us in his charming and ini- 
mitable style, we do know. The chapter on snakes in 
his recent story about "Wild Fishers" reminded me of 
an incident that may be of passing interest. 
It is no fearful and wonderful story of enormous ser- 
pents, or marvelous escape from almost certain death, but 
is just an account of one of the many incidents that the 
devotee of the rod and gun experiences, a little out of 
the usual run. It begins with a confession: I will do 
my share of any, or all, of the hardest work that falls 
to the camp without complaining, except under one con- 
dition, and that is where a snake interferes. I would 
not seine for minnows in water where I had just seen a 
snake disappear if the entire camp was facing starva- 
tion, and every minnow caught was sure of a to- 
pounder. And I would eat raw bacon until ashamed to 
look a hog in the face rather than gather firewood from 
the wood pile where even reliable information had 
located a snake. I have faced many a peril by field and 
flood, but never have shown, and I fear never will show, 
a decent front to a snake. I am dtdy ashamed of this 
weakness, and have honestly tried to overcome it, but 
cannot even claim to be convalescent. 
The water moccasin that Mr. Mather writes about is 
particularly abundant in the lakes and bayous of the 
Southern States. In the southern part of Mississippi, 
along the Pearl River, where lakes and bayous afford 
excellent fishing for white perch, bass (called trout by 
the natives), goggle-eye and bream, I have found them 
plentiful and annoying. Like all poisonous snakes, they 
are sluggish, but to a less degree than land snakes of 
equal venom. Their habit of lying on the limbs of low 
trees and bushes overhanging the water is more than 
unpleasant to the snake-timid fisherman. You generally 
fish in toward the bank from a boat, and paddling quiet- 
ly along seeking out good sheltered spots for a cast, you 
are often startled by a "plunk" in the water — like the 
dropping of a plummet — followed by the oscillation of an 
overhanging limb, and you know that a moccasin has 
made it unnecessary for you to cast in that spot. Some- 
times the gentleman will drop into your boat, in which 
event — so I am informed — he will take himself off as 
quickly as possible, if you but sit still. The reason I 
cannot verify this is the fact that I never did sit still 
under such conditions; never even tried to. I have never 
yet seen the boat that was large enough for me and any 
brand of snake to use jointly, so I have invariably va- 
cated, sans ceremony, when a mocassin saw fit to board 
my craft. 
A fishing companion, who had treated this weakness 
of mine with scant consideration and much levity, one 
time reached up and caught a limb just overhead to 
steady the boat, while we were quietly slipping along 
the shady side of a Mississippi bayou fishing for bream; 
and an instant later discovered that he had grasped, with 
the limb, a well developed, active specimen of the snake 
family, genus moccasin. This excellent opportunity to 
give me an object lesson on self-control he wasted. No 
amount of fear of snakes in general could have caused 
him to act more promptly or vigorously. His fright- 
ened shriek split the atmosphere like the scream of a 
panther, and was the first intimation I had of there be- 
ing anything wrong with him. When he finally quit 
threshing around like a crazy contortionist, and ex- 
plained his surprising " conduct, he did not lack for 
sympathy. It was a dangerous and nerve-trying experi- 
ence, and a narrow escape, as a moccasin seldom ac- 
cepts an apology for a liberty taken with him, but 
strikes at once when touched. 
That they are provided with fangs and poison I have 
proved by a careful examination. After pressing the 
mouth well open with a stick, I have seen the fangs 
stand out like the claws of a cat, and by a little pres- 
sure eject the green virus through the small opening 
in the point. That they invariably retreat when at- 
tacked, if retreat be possible, has been my observation, 
with one exception, which is the adventure I would 
narrate. 
Fishing one day in a bayou of the Pearl River, with 
one companion, we sat in opposite ends of a long, light 
boat, which tapered equally at both ends, but did not 
come to a sharp point. It had but three seats — one at 
each end and a middle seat. When a change of position 
was desired, w -<nk a liqrhr paddle in the water and 
