Feb. 8, 1902.} 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
107 
fourths of a pound; beside this, it has drank not less than 
Dne-half ounce of water. So the food taken by a single 
silk worm in fifty-six days equals in weight eighty-six 
thousand times the primitive weight of the worm. When 
fully grown, the worm, which has been devouring the 
leaves so voraciously, becomes restless and crawls about 
the branches in search of a suitable place to build up its 
cocoon; before this it is motionless for some time, hold- 
ing on to the twig with its front legs, while the two hind 
pairs are detached; in this position it remains for some 
time, evacuating the contents of the alimentary canal, 
until finally a gelatinous, transparent, very caustic fluid, 
looking like albumen, or the white of an egg, is ejected; 
this is a preparation for the long catalepsy that the worm 
is about to fall into. It now feels with its head in all 
directions, to discover any leaves to which to attach the 
fibres that are to give form to. the cocoon. If it finds 
the place suitable, it begins to wind a layer of silk around 
a twig, then a fibre is attached to a leaf near by, and by 
CHRYSALIS. 
many times doubling this fibre and making it "shorter 
every time, the leaf is made to approach the twig at the 
distance necessary to build the cocoon; two or three 
leaves are disposed like this one, and their fibres are 
spread between them in all directions, and soon the 
ovoid form of the cocoon appears. This seems to be the 
most difficult feat for the worm to accomplish, as after 
this the work is simply mechanical, the cocoon being 
CATERPILLAR OF THE AMERICAN SILK WORM. 
made of regular layers of silk united by a gummy sub- 
stance. The silk is distributed in zig-zag lines about one- 
eighth of an inch long. When the cocoon is made, the 
worm will have moved his head to and fro, in order to 
distribute the silk, about two hundred and fifty-four 
thousand times. 
"After about half a day's work, the cocoon is so far 
completed that the wojrp, can, hardly be distwguished, 
through the fine texture of the wall; then a gummy, 
resinous substance, sometimes of a light brown color, is 
spread over all the inside of the cocoon. 
"The larva continues to work for four or five days, 
hardly taking a few minutes' rest, and finally another 
coating is spun in the interior, when the cocoon is all 
finished and completely air-tight." 
The silk is spun quite differently from that of the 
spiders already described. If we examine carefully the 
lower lip of the caterpillar which is ready to make its 
cocoon, we will see there is an outlet of a small conical 
tube in the middle of it; from this the silk exudes in a 
sort of sticky fluid which hardens as soon as it is exposed 
to the air." Some species make a large quantity, while 
others but very little. 
In the cocoon the pupa gradually assumes the imago 
or moth form, and early in the following summer it 
emerges as a moth. Its mode of escape from the silky 
covering is a most interesting example of the methods 
nature has- provided to' - * carry out her . ends. Although 
the caterpillars have strong cutting jaws the moths have 
none whatever, their place being filled by tubular tongues, 
through which water and dew and the honey of flowers 
is sucked up by the insects for food. These tongues are 
often very long, sometimes a number of inches, and 
when not in use they are coiled up spirally under the 
insect's mouth like a wafxh spring. Without jaws then 
to gnaw out of the cocoon some other method of escape 
must be provided, and this i is done most perfectly and in 
the simplest manner, for 'when the moth is ready to 
emerge a peculiar secretion, called bombycic acid, exudes 
from its mouth which acts upon the gum and fibres of 
the silk, finally permitting the insect to burst it open 
and come out. The moth is perfect when it emerges from 
the cocoon with the exception of its wings, which are 
hardly more than pads upon its shoulders. The moth 
remains perfectly quiet for a few minutes, when the wings 
begin to grow, and in about twenty minutes they have 
attained their full size. 
For a few minutes the Doctor and I studied the cater- 
pillar which hung motionless from the twig in his hand, 
and then he attached it to a branch of an oak near by. 
[TO BE CONTINUED.] 
Perils of the F Alaskan [Coast. 
A press dispatch from Vancouver, dated Jan. 9, gives 
details of the loss of the steamer Bristol, which was 
wrecked near Dixon Entrance on her way to the Tread- 
well River, near Juneau, Alaska. 
I well remember the Bristol as I saw her in August, 
1897, first at the dock in Victoria and later on in Skagway 
Harbor, with a glacier for background, a snub-nosed 
tramp steamer of a type common on the Atlantic coast, 
loaded down with men and horses, who were t© participate 
in the first Klondike rush. Some said that she carried 
800 passengers on this trip. She had picked them up by 
cutting rates and by making more liberal arrangements 
for the carriage of horses and supplies than the regular 
lines, and there was a general impression that horses and 
men alike got about what they paid for. 
Be that as it may, she is gone, and with her has dis- 
appeared the last of the steamships (with the possible 
exception of the Rosalie), of which I had an intimate 
knowledge at the time of my visit to Alaska in 1897-98. 
The list, though short, and comprising as it does but a 
fraction of the shipping loss since the discovery of the 
Klondike and Nome, is suggestive. First there was the 
Mexico, on which I had reserved passage to the north. 
The company operating her refused to make provision for 
my horses, and I gave up my reservation, taking passage 
on the Islander instead. The Mexico was wrecked on 
this very trip, and though the Islander survived four 
years, she too went under last summer, as all newspaper 
readers know, with considerable loss of life. Lastly there 
was the Clara Nevada, which I missed at the dock in 
Skagway by the smallest possible fraction of time, only 
to find upon my arrival in Seattle that she had blown up 
and was lost with every soul on board. 
One of the Seattle newspapers published not long ago 
a list of the vessels wrecked on the Alaska route, and 
though I do not recollect the number, the total was some- 
thing appalling. 
The thing was commented upon from the standpoint 
of the marine underwriters upon a basis of dollars and 
cents, but from another point of view it illustrates the 
thorns which strew the path of the gold seeker! a solemn 
warning of the uncertain.tv of life in the frozen north. 
' ' ' ■ ' " ' ' : I ft ft. 
%mt\t j§ag nnd (jfjlun. 
— 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stream. 
Hunting with Henry Braithwalte. 
II. — Caribou and Deer. 
When we got back to camp, after Charlie Small killed 
the big moose, Theodore and Jerry, who had been left to 
skin the smaller one, had a story 1 to tell. After Charlie, 
Henry and I had left them at work, they had kept up their 
fire, as it was cold business cutting up the frozen meat. 
They had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, and 
had plainly heard the fusillade which accompanied the 
decease of the second moose. Then they heard a noise 
close by, and saw a large bull moose moving their way. 
He came up within 50 feet of them, when he stopped and 
stared, not seeming to know what to make of them or 
their fire. Jerry called at him, "co, co, co," just as if he 
were an ox in a barnyard. The boys said the moose only 
shook his head, and was in no hurry to leave them. 
Finally he trotted off in a leisurely way. The next day, 
when Theodore and Jerry went over the mountain to 
bring in Charlie's big moose head, they said the moose 
that came to look at them had a head quite as large as 
the. one Charlie got. 
There was a big yellow "saple" or marten that stayed 
under the floor of Henry's home camp. When any par- 
tridge heads or other refuse pieces of meat were thrown 
out. the saple would come out and eat them, in broad 
daylight. If any one came out of the camp door while he 
was eating, he would stand his ground, and bark defiance 
in the funny little hoarse cough that expresses saple dis- 
approval. 
Henry's gun rack at the home camp was a curiosity. 
Beside our rifles, it contained a .45 double English rifle, 
a .45-70 Marlin, a Snider and two shotguns. After one 
of Henry's 30-bore sportsmen this fall had wounded and 
lost five moose, thereby nearly breaking Henry's heart, 
he took out the old Snider, commonly known as "the 
Binding Pole," and got his moose the first shot. A 
Snider, be it known, is .577 caliber. The bullet, weighs 
480 grains, and the propelling force is 76 grains of black 
powder. There is no question whether this bullet 
mushrooms. It has diameter already before it strikes. 
What is the difference in principle between such a 
weapon and a high-power smokeless? Try this experi- 
ment: Make a small cross-bow, with heavy rubber 
bands for the propelling force. Take a light wooden 
projectile, with a nail in the end. Place a block of wood 
in front of the cross-bow. Draw the rubber back to its 
utmost tension. Release it, and the nail point will be 
driven a considerable distance into the wooden block, 
which, however, will not be moved. 
Now take a much heavier projectile with a nail point 
in it. Draw the rubber only half as far back, if you 
please; but be sure your projectile is heavy. Release it, 
and what happens? The tension is much less, the 
velocity is lower, the nail point is not driven so far into 
the block, but the block itself is knocked flying. 
Now, compare the case of the Weaver moose, famous 
all over New Brunswick, with the moose killed by the 
Snider. The Weaver moose was in the open. He came 
right out of the water alongside of Mr. Weaver, who had 
every chance in the world, at short range, with a .30-30. 
Thirteen bullets from this rifle struck the moose. Donald 
McCoy told me there was no mistake about the number, 
and when they found the moose long after, that state- 
ment was found to be correct. But Mr. Weaver lost the 
moose. The poor animal died two miles from where he 
was shot, and some lumbermen swamping in a road, after 
the snow came, ran against something sticking above 
the snow. It was the tip of one enormous antler. The 
blades were about 20 inches wide, and the head was one 
of the finest ever seen in the Province. 
In the case of the Snider moose, one shot was fired. It 
smashed both shoulders of the moose, which fell on its 
knees. "That was the first time I ever see a moose say 
his prayers," said Dune Moon, who witnessed these 
doings. In the one case thirteen light bullets, fired at 
high tension, had no immediate effect on the great bulk 
and amazing vitality of the bull. In the other case, one 
heavy, large-bore bullet, fired at low tension, knocked 
the animal down and out, and he never got up. The 
blow delivered anywhere at all in the frame of the moose 
would have had the same effect. 
Having in two days exhausted the legal limit of a 
moose apiece, we decided the next day to move camp up 
to Gover Lake, on the edge of the caribou country. 
This Gover Lake camp is one of Henry's own construc- 
tion, and he regards it as being now the very center of 
his hunting ground. It is ten miles north of Little Sou- 
west Lake, and near the head of the river. From there 
it is only a day's journey to the water shed of the Ser- 
pentine, a tributary of the Tobique. 
Gover Lake is really only an irregular enlargement of 
the Little Souwest Miramichi. It had frozen over just 
before the first snow, and the thin ice was covered a few 
inches deep. In order to get to the high, open barrens 
where the caribou are found in winter, it was necessary 
to cross Gover Lake. We tried it one day, and there was 
such an ominous threat from the buckling ice that we 
gave it up for that time, and Henry and I went up on 
the ridges back of camp to' try for a deer, as we needed 
meat here. It was too far to carry the moose meat 
from below in such traveling. 
Again the white glory of the hardwood forest. Again 
the matchless witchery of glistening twig and bending 
branch, loaded to the endurance limit. You must see 
the evergreens thus covered to understand the utility of 
this tree form, and the fitness of its survival. 
Soon we came upon a big deer track, fresh and sharp. 
Its maker was going very slowly, just wandering around 
and nibbling, here and there rubbing his horns against 
a tree. Every minute we expected to see the tracks 
stretch out into long, straight jumps. But no; in fifteen 
or twenty minutes Henry made a gesture I have learned 
to know so well. He pointed with his ax handle. There, 
not 15 yards ahead, stood the buck, his head cocked on 
c<n« §i<k, looking at; us. in the most bjmejQl.e.n.t;, araiah,Vs 
SPHINX MOTH WITH TONGUE UNCOILED. 
