Oct, s, 1901.J 
FuaEST AND STREAM. 
263 
Adventures in Tropical America* 
I,— Crossing the Bar. 
Years ago, when scarcely more than a boy, I was sail- 
ing down the coast of Spanish Honduras in a little sloop 
manned by a crew of rough negroes, and carrying a motley 
assortment of passengers. As we stood along the coast 
I saw a succession of low. sandy beaches, a tangled growth 
of jungle beyond, and then a range of blue mountains in 
the distance. 
After three days under a tropical sun the captain in- 
formed us that wc had arrived off our destination, the 
inlet of Brewer's Lagoon, and that he would put about for 
the shore, reminding us that he did not guarantee a safe 
entrance, and in case of loss the damage was for our 
account. 
Passengers were ordered below, but the captain allowed 
me to stay on deck, perhaps because I had taken the tiller 
for part of the time on the way down, and had gotten 
along fairly well sailing the boat. 
"What will happen to us," I asked, "if the boat runs 
aground ?" 
"Do you see those big waves?" the captain replied, in 
the low, deep voice common to the negroes, but with the 
most perfect enunciation, and no sign of negro dialect. 
"There are the shifting sand banks; the channel is never 
the same; it is always changing; if we ground, the boat 
will be beaten to pieces ; our people will swim ashore, but 
the sharks will eat white men ; you were not made for 
these countries. Don't talk to me now." 
Surely a pleasant prospect. I had sailed many a small 
boat in rough water, and was not at all afraid of a swim ; 
but, then, the sharks, how awful it would be to feel their 
great jaws close on a leg, and then be torn to pieces by a 
company of them attracted by the blood. 
"Are there really many sharks?" I asked in a whisper. 
"Yes; don't talk," answered the captain. 
A big negro called Tom, a perfect specimen of health 
and strength, said to me: "See that swirl in the water 
over there, and see that thing moving just ahead of the 
boat. They are gathering all around us. Here dead ani- 
mals float out to sea ; that is why they come." 
We were approaching the shore now. Great, muddy 
waves rose up with a threatening comb, rippled into a 
foaming line along the top, and then settled down again. I 
could see no sign of an inlet, but still the little boat kept 
on, the captain now giving orders in his native tongue, a 
remnant of African memories used all along the coast. 
The men stood at their places, and then, swinging the sail 
full to the wind, the captain stood directly for the shore. 
For a moment we ran quietly before the wind, then a 
great sigh seemed to rise up among the waves, and with a 
trembling and dragging the boat went grinding along the 
bottom. Behind us came a rolling wave, in which, as it 
rushed toward us, I pictured thousands of evilly disposed 
sharks; in another instant the boat went staggering on, 
then it came down on its side, and seemed to be endeavor- 
ing to bury itself in the sand; Avaves were now breaking 
all about us, and we were not more than 50 yards from 
the shore. Once more the boat rose up and staggered 
forward, came down with a bang, that sent us all on our 
backs; the next instant a wave dashed over us, and then, 
with a grinding and dragging, while the men shouted out 
to each other, the boat seemed to make a final effort and 
floated gently into quiet water behind the bar. Here a 
current was running out to sea hke a mill race, and it was 
some time before she could be brought around to the 
wind and started toward the inlet. 
"We disappointed the sharks that time," the captain 
said, while the men began making vows that they would 
never come again with such a heavy cargo. 
Then all the passengers began talking at once, but I felt 
little patience to hear them, and, going to the bow of 
the boat, sat on the guard rail beside Tom, who gave a 
kind of sympathetic rub tip against me, a movement ex- 
pressive of satisfaction, such as a great dog gives at times, 
and then said, "You needn't look so white and frightened 
about it; we wotild have taken care of you anyway." 
Francis C. Nicholas. 
Field and Camp Comrades. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I note with a great deal of interest the article on "Com- 
panions on Hunting and Camping Trips," in your issue 
of Sept. 14, by "Roxbury," and I quite agree with him 
in the statement that one should give the matter of com- 
panions on these trips due consideration; but he does 
not tell the readers of Forkst and Stream who are the 
proper companions, our grandfathers and wives ex- 
cepted. The sportsman is fortunate, indeed, who has a 
grandfather to accompany him on these trips, or even 
give wise counsel at home; and, perhaps, still more for- 
tunate to have a wife who enjoys the rod and gun well 
enough to accompany him to the woods and take part 
in the chase. But. unforttmately, all sportsmen do not 
possess grandfathers, or wives who "wander back to 
camp v/ith scalps" of unknown origin. What will the 
latter class of sportsmen do? 
I desire to congratulate "Roxbury" on his discovery 
of a new name for buck fever, "squirrel on the gun bar- 
rel." This explains to me how he managed to miss so 
many shots last fall. But he is still after big game, and 
I have no doubt his efforts will be rewarded some time. 
Let the readers of "Roxhury's" article ask him, who 
■■^hot that fine specimen of black bear whose skin adorns 
his home; also the moose, the liorns of which hang on 
the wall? If he tells you the truth, and I am sure he will, 
you will readily understand why he thinks wives make 
excellent companions on hunting trips. 45-70. 
Take inventory of the good things in this issue Jt 
S of Forest and Stream. Recall what a fund was j} 
5 given last week. Count on what is to come next jj 
5 week. Was there ever in all the world a more J| 
¥. abundant weekly store of sportsmen's reading? 2 
Coahoma Has a '*Kink'' Snake* 
Editor .Fores.t and Stream: 
I have an interesting office companion, who reminds me 
of a story told by Mr. Horace Kephart several years ago 
that elicited some comment at the time. Several days ago 
as I stepped out of the telephone booth in my office, which 
is immediately on the bank of the Sunflower River, I 
discovered a snake extended on the floor. Lie had crawled 
through an open back door and across the rear room. He 
is a little over 3 feet long, and belongs to one of the 
commonest varieties of the constrictors in this Mississippi 
River bottom country. I don't know his name, species or 
genus, but in color he is light underneath, with a dark 
olive ground above, divided into large and regular carpet 
pattern by a dull orange bordering which crosses the back 
transversely and is bifurcated on the sides. "Kink" snake 
would be an appropriate name, as, when extended on the 
ground in a state of repose, he knots himself into a great 
number of short Idnks. He is also a tree snake, being 
the most expert climber I am acquainted with among the 
snake family. In fact, I believe his habitat is essentially 
arboreal, his food being sought among the branches of 
trees. 
The individual who has taken up his abode in my office 
seems always ambitious to climb higher in whatever situa- 
tion he may find himself, The room has a ceiling 14 feet 
high, and is "hard finished" in yellow pine. There is a 
moulding at the top of the wainscot 4 feet above the 
floor, another moulding for hat pegs 2^4 feet higher, and a 
third for suspending picture cords a foot and a half below 
the ceiling. The mouldings are rounded on the upper 
edge, except the top one, which has a groove above. The 
boards on the walls are placed diagonally, above the 
wainscot, at an angle of 45 degrees. The snake crawls 
about on the rounded mouldings very cautiously, and 
■4 
ELK HORN FENCE. 
occasionally slips oft' and flops down on the floor. He 
makes futile efforts to climb up the smooth face of the 
walls in the angles of door facings and corner 
mouldings, and can reach up nearly his length 
by resting a few inches of his tail on a pro- 
jection below. He managed to get to the top of a tall 
door facing through the aid of a transom rod, and then 
after tnany efforts succeeded in climbing along the beaded 
joint between the diagonal wall boards to the top mould- 
ing, and on to it. the distance being a little greater than 
his own length. After crawling around on the top mould- 
ing a while, in making an effort to get up to the ceiling, he 
lost his hold and flopped down on to a table.. His repeated 
falls do not appear to hurt him nor dampen his aspira- 
tions to reach the topmost point. A short time ago he got 
on to the top roll of a wall map, which he found very in- 
,'>ecure footing, and was unable to get down from it with- 
out falling. I carried a flexible electric light conductor 
over to the map and attached it. He has crawled up this 
at a steep angle to the ceiling, where it is suspended, and 
is now nearly over my head, and appears to be puzzled as 
to his next move. Yesterday he reposed on top of my 
desk nearly all day, within 2 or 3 feet of my head. 
He is quite an interesting study in his character of an 
acrobat, exhibiting both great skill and abundant cau- 
tion when in difficult situations. I have observed that he 
never retrogresses (to coin a word) in his movements to 
get out of a tight place, and I suppose his anatomical 
structure will not permit such movement. When on very 
insecure footing he occasionally arches a portion of his 
l)ack and projects his front end forward from the tail 
"purchase" instead of using his forward feet for progres- 
sion. 
Mr. Kephart's snake (which he killed, and whose ghost 
is probably still haunting, him) performed a great climbing 
feat after being wounded, but I believe mine is the cham- 
pion climber to date. I have named him St. Peter. 
Coahoma. 
Fences of Elk Horns* 
New York. — Editor Forest and Stream: I inclose you 
photo of fence made of elk horns, which I took in Living- 
ston. Mont. I found three fences made of elk horns. This 
fence e:ctends around the house ; there are about 140 
horns. The owner .spoiled the looks of them by painting 
the horns red and the tips white. 
H. W, TreDenick, 
New Snake from Texas* 
Last summer a large and handsome colubrine snake 
was received at the Zoological Gardens in Philadelphia. , 
It was from Mr. E. Meyenberg, a collector of the Society 
of Pecos, Texas, and was very different both in color and 
in the way in. which its scales were arranged from any 
.species of genus Coluber that had been before collected 
in the United States. The specimen was captured in the 
Davis Mountains, fifty miles southwest of Pecos, Texas, 
In August, three more specimens were received, two 
of them living, and an examination of this material has 
resulted in the description in the Proceeding of Philadel- 
phia Academy of Sciences, by Mr. Arthur Erwin Brown, 
of a ne^ species, which he calls Coluber subocularis. This 
is a large, handsome snake, between five and six feet 
long, bright yellowish in color, with two black stripes 
ntnning down the back from the neck to the tail. These 
stripes are connected by narrow crossbars of black. The 
general undercolor is white. A handsome photographic 
plate, showing the head of the species, illustrates the 
paper. , 
and §m. 
— • — 
Squirrel Episodes. — H. 
Charlestown, N. H., Sept. 27.— A glance at "Squir- 
rel Episodes," in this week's Forest and Stream, 
shows me that my pen ran away with my memories, and 
that I omitted something I meant to say, mainly of in- 
terest to the younger generation of sportsmen, who en- 
joy the pursuit of squirrels. 
First, as to the use of dogs, which was considered 
superfluous; so it is, when the leaves are thick on the 
trees, for a squirrel once treed and alarmed, will hide 
in the thick foliage, and be very hard to find afterward. 
When the leaves and nuts have fallen, and the squirrels 
are on the ground, looking for their food, a dog is -very 
v.aluable, to find and tree them; and then it is that a 
companion is also desirable; for a squirrel cannot well 
keep on the opposite side of the tree from both gunners 
at the same time, though he will often elude one. 
I well remember treeing one once, when alone^ on a 
tall, dead, branchless pine, standing alone in the edge 
of an open pasture, near the woods, on a topmost hill. 
I saw the squirrel run for the tree, but find him I could 
not; so, seating myself on a convenient stone, I waited 
to see if his curiosity could lead him to show his head 
to look at me. After some ten minutes' watching, I heard 
"thump!" in the dead leaves, on the opposite side of the 
tree, and some twenty feet from it, and, springing to my 
feet, there was Master Squirrel, making a blue streak 
for the woods, and out of shot, before I could bring my 
gun to bear. I had thoughtlessly sat down on the wrong 
side of the tree. I spoke of my fondness for stalking 
them alone, which was true ; in thes? September days, 
such as are novy with us, not even a leaf had fallen, and they 
were just beginning to turn yellow. I always enjoyed' 
being in the woods alone, and then, it was my delight to 
saunter along the old. deserted woodroads, or through 
the open grassy, or stony glades, with their scattered ' 
nut trees, looking for "signs," and by this mean the 
fallen nutshells, or half-eaten acorns, which a'gray squir-^ 
rel scatters profusely. If you spied a large twig which 
had held half a dozen acorns on it, it was evidence of a- 
"red;" for they ctit off the bunchesr and come down, pick 
the nuts up, and store them for winter's use, but the gray 
one usually eats his in the trees. When "signs" are 
found, sit down, with your back to a tree, and' wait and 
watch, for there may be a squirrel over your head. I 
have dropped them so that they struck the ground within 
twenty feet of me, after a few minutes' patient watching 
in this way. The great secret in squirrel hunting .is to 
make as little noise, and be as inconspicuous- as possible. 
In my younger days any old clothes answered the pur- 
pose for shooting garments, but as I grew older I had 
a shooting jacket made — the well-known 42d Tartan — 
and later a green Norfolk jacket,_ which answered for 
both trotit fishing and early shooting; but for the later 
months there is nothing like tan-colored duck, with an 
old, drab felt hat, and a pair of stout, gray or brown 
trousers. For footwear, it is a mistake to wear too heavy 
shoes; a light, flexible boot, well greased to keep out 
fog and frost, with a moderately strong sole; is the best 
thing I have found. 
One of my early companions, an excellent rifle shot, 
who gave me many lessons, always wore Indian mocca- 
sins, although he was a shoemaker himself. He had "a 
soul above buttons," and did not follow the old Latin 
maxim of "ne dator ultra crepidam," for he left home 
soon after I did, 'and the only time I have seen him 
since, I met him on Broadway, resplendent in blue cloth 
and brass buttons, as one of the corps of the late "Jim 
Fisk," when that worthy was running the Old Colony 
line of steamboats in naval uniform. Another compan- 
ion, since then, alwaA^s wore rubber shoes; but my own 
feet were too tender for such coverings, and I have 
found that there was "nothing like leather." 
My list of old woods comrades ranges from shoe- 
makers to schoolmasters, and to United States Senators, 
and many a pleasant day. "by field and flood," have I 
had in the company of a late judge of the United States 
Circuit Court. So nmch for companions. Let me re- 
turn for a moment to the sunny valley, of which I have 
spoken. On the far side of it, well up the slope, is a 
farmhouse, where I have always called for apples and 
cold water, and, occasionally, for luncheon ; and back of 
that was another piece of old woods, now a sheep pas- 
ture, where my brother and I have got many a squirrel; 
and I well remember, on coming out of the woods one 
morning, dropping a ruffed grouse, which sprang up be- 
fore us. as he rose to crop a high rail fence, which di- 
vided the woods from the open pasture, on his way to 
another place of shelter. • ' 
There was another favorite old wood lot, about as 
far from the village — three miles— in another direction, 
and here we often went. This was not cleared till later, 
and is now growing up to woods again, and my oldest 
son has never forgotten climbing a tall hemlock, for a 
squirrel which I had dropped into his summer nest, and 
