THE YOUNG SCIENTIST. 
277 
one or two steps forward, and away flies 
the boomerang straight before him, but 
gradually nearing the surface of the lake, 
when just as it appears about to bury 
itself in the dark water, up it soars with 
inconceivable velocity into the midst of 
the startled cockatoos, striking right and 
left upwards and downwards, its wild 
gyrations rendered still more extrava- 
gant by the resistance of the birds which 
fall victims to its blows. 
Another very remarkable weapon is 
that in use amongst several of the tribes 
of Guiana, notably the Macousbie In- 
dians, who have the reputation of being 
the best makers of it. The wonderful 
blowpiL)e which varies in length from 
nine to eleven feet, and is formed out of a 
reed, which must be absolutely devoid of 
anything approaching the semblance of a 
knot, and the bore of which must not di- 
minish appreciably tliroughout its entire 
length. Let the studious reader imagine 
what the complete reed must be like 
which fulfils tliese requirements. It is 
estimated that it must be at least 200 feet 
in length, and is probably an aquatic 
plant, the weight of which is supported 
by the water. Slender as the tube is, it 
would readily be broken were it not pro- 
tected by an outer case, formed of the 
stem of a young palm-tree, from which 
the pith has been extracted, and in the 
centre of which the reed is cemented witli 
kurumanni-wax with mathematical ac- 
curacy. A foresight with a dent in it 
similar to the backsight of the modern 
rifle is formed from a seed of the acuero, 
and the two upper incisor teeth of a small 
rodent called the acouchi, provide the 
backsight, which again bears some re- 
semblance to the foresight of our best 
rifles. The projectile, which is made 
from the leaf ribs of a palm, is about nine 
inches in length, of the thickness of a 
knitting-needle, and is sharpened to the 
utmost degree. A pad of cotton is fas- 
tened at the feather end of this tiny ar- 
row, which exactly fits the bore of the 
blow-tube. But the instrument is not yet 
complete. There remains to dip it in the 
deadly wourali poison— so deadly that 
should the Indian accidentally scratch 
himself with his venom -tipped dart, he 
immediately bids farewell to his friends 
and relatives, knowing that his hours, 
nay, his moments, are infallibly num- 
bered. To provide against such a con- 
tingency he carries his darts in a pecu- 
liarly-shaped quiver, which, whilst it per- 
mits him to withdraw one arrow at a 
time, effectually prevents the points from 
coming into contact with his hand. The 
moment his quarry is struck the iwison 
begins its work. The bird is unable even 
to lift its wings, and after nodding 
drowsilv for a few moments, it falls dead 
at the Indian's feet. But for this rapid 
action of the poison the weapon would be 
of little avail, for in a country where 
vegetation is so dense, and grows with 
such amazing luxuriance and speed that 
a road which is made to-day cannot be 
found a fortnight hence, a flight of a very 
few yards would mean the almost certain 
loss of the animal in the tangled foliage. 
How the birds killed by so terrible a poi- 
son are made harmless food for man has 
not been explained by travellers. 
Last, we come to a device which is used 
for the capture of that Ishmael amongst 
quardrupeds— the wolf. A strong stake 
is driven into the ground, and around it 
an enclosure is constructed, without any 
opening whatever. At the distance of 
from two to three feet from this is erected 
another enclosure, with a door in it open- 
ing inwards, and prevented from going 
too far back by a stout post driven into 
the ground. Each of the walls is of a 
sufficient height to prevent the wolf from 
leaping over it. To the stake a young 
lamb or kid is fastened, whose frightened 
bleatings soon fall like music on the ear 
of the ever hungry wolf. At once he 
makes his way to the enclosure, and, 
entering by the door, walks round, seek- 
ing an opening by which he can get at 
the young mutton so temptingly dis- 
played a few inches beyond his very nose. 
Arriving at the gate which bars iiis fur- 
ther progress, he gives it a push. It 
fastens with a spring, and all that re- 
mains is for the hunter to quietly walk 
in, bind the wolf's jaws and legs, and con- 
gratulate himself on capturing one more 
despoiler of his flock. The securing of 
the wolf after he is in the enclosure is a 
task of no difficulty, for although lie will 
fight 1,0 the death in the open, when he is 
cornered his courage entirely leaves him, 
and he may be bound without offering the 
least resistance. 
Amateur Theatricals. 
a hint, or series of hints to 
some of our readers who "in- 
dulge " in amateur theatrical 
I exhibitions, we give the fol- 
lowing exi)erience which was obtained 
from before and behind the scenes : 
" Passing through the folds of a rem- 
nant of old sailcloth I find myself in the 
corner of a large loft — partly covering a 
row of stables —stables unmistakably, 
from the occasional clamps of tired 
horses and the fragrant odor which pro- 
ceeds therefrom — a little below the level 
of the foot-lights, and 0!1 the far side of 
the sta.ge. There are no reserved seats 
whatever. From the raised platform to 
the outer walls are a number of rough 
planks ranged longitudinally, rising one 
above anol lier ns in an ordinary gallery. 
In the topmost corner on the right hand. 
