May 7, 1904,] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
877 
for when one is hungry and far away from table ap- 
pointments they do not stop to question, so with a tof- 
tilla for a plate, everybody, including the domestic ani- 
mals, gathered around this family dish, scooping out theif 
portion. At dusk everyone turned in; the family laid on 
mats and the writer on his blankets, and what a night! 
filled as the hut was, and though it was not quite as bad 
as the night with the ants, it would have been more Con- 
ducive to a night's good sleep if the family house pig 
iiad refrained from snofing. 
After donning hunting costume and taking bfeakfast 
at daybreak and stuiSng a few tortillas in our pocket 
hag, we were ready to travel. I found the most com- 
fortable costume for hunting in the tropics to consist 
of a pair of ordinary high rubber soled canvas tennis 
shoes, canvas leggins, alld overalls, with a thin undef- 
shirt and kerchief, 3'our ammunition in a good heavy 
belt thrown over one shoulder and strappea under the 
armpit on the other side. Matches, tobacco, and food 
were carried in a small bag hanging frorn the other shoul- 
der. This leaves one light of foot, so that he can follow 
a trail all day. The advantage of the canvas shoes is 
that one may carry a half dozen pairs of such shoes to 
one pair of heavy hunting boots, and thus one can always 
start in the morning with dry shoes. This costume is as 
near a copy as a white man can come to the huntef of the 
tropics, who goes without shoes, but wraps his legs from 
the ankle to the knee in an old piece of canvas aS a 
protection from the thorns and snakes, but leaves his feet 
bare. 
We started out for a large swamp where peccaries 
had been seen a short time before. The Indian led the 
way, going straight through the trackless forest. After 
an hour we came to where footmarks were visible and 
wallows in all directions, but the animals had left the 
day before. The track where they had started off was 
well defined, so after them we went, up hill and down, 
sometimes crawling TDn hands and knees through ^ a 
tangle of creepers, but never daring to make any noise 
for fear they were close at hand. Once in a while the 
boom of a monkey would come from somewhere away up 
over one's head. The monkeys are great black fellows 
called black howlers. Their booming can be heard a long 
cistance. They are perfectly fearless, never moving, even 
after you have shot in among them. 
We followed the tracks of the peccaries till noon, and 
then stopped to take a little refreshment, as the guide 
said they were traveling steadily and it might be impossi- 
ble to come up to them. These_ animals are of two types, 
the smaller peccary which run in herds of not more than 
twenty-five are marked with a light brown stripe or col- 
lar across the shoulders, and are of uniform dark gray 
with heavy bristles. The larger ones are of_ the 
sj'me color, but without the stripe or collar and with a 
white jaw and underpart of throat. These travel_ in 
(troves of fifty to a. hundred. They feed while traveling. 
sometimes taking a direct path or swinging around in 
circles so as to keep near some favorite wallow. 
After a few minutes* rest we were up and going again, 
this time leaving, the pig track and starting to make a 
Circuit around to the village. We had just crossed a 
small stream and begun to climb a hill when the guide 
stopped, saying, "Pigs," for he smelt them; none of us 
were thus educated. Then, by his instructions, we spread 
out and began to creep along the way the guide pointed. 
In a few moments all of us recognized that pigs were 
close by, the odor was strong, like that noticed in enter- 
ing the animal house in a zoological garden. Suddenly 
grunts could be heard, and then we saw them wallowing 
in the mud. There appeared to me (who had 
never before seen the wild pigs) to be hundreds, but 
most likely there were not over fifty. I had singled out 
my victim and fired at the same moment that one of the 
negroes fired the shotgun, and the other negro the pis- 
tol. In a second the jungle was filled with the grunts 
and squeals of the pigs and the yells and shots of the 
men. It was everyone for himself, and after his trophies, 
'i'he writer rushed along a hillside, hoping to cut off some 
of them, but failed to encounter another. The negroes 
could be heard away off somewhere banging away. After 
a while we all assembled to count the slain. One big old 
fellow that the good little rifle had brought down; none 
to the negroes, although the fellow with the shotgun 
swore he had maimed one so badly that he tnust be lying 
somewhere around. In a few minutes the Indian came 
dragging one in, shot just behind the shoulder, with the 
arrow almost coming out the other side. Where he got 
him, or how he could have been close enough to drive the 
arrow with all that force was a wonder. 
After skinning them, leaving the heads on for mount- 
ing purposes, we started for the village, the guide lead- 
ing us in a straight line directly thither. That night we 
stretched the skins and put the skulls iii an ant-hill, that 
being the quickest way to clean them, and few taxider- 
mists could have accomplished this task as speedily and 
as well. 
The next day we were out again, but found no pigs. 
We ran into some monkeys called the red howler, and 
were lucky enough to get two, as they are very shy and 
travel like lightning through the treetops. That night 
we had monkey meat for dinner, and found it delicious. 
For one month I lived among these Indians, hunting 
ahnost every day and finding them, for all their want 
of civilized ways, a kind and willing people. To tell of 
the different days and exciting times and animals shot 
would take up too much valuable space. At the end of 
the trip I had ten good large pig skins, one jaguar, and, 
thirty-five monkey skins ; also bow, arrow and spears 
presented to me by the people. Two days after saying 
good-by to the Indians and their village we were back at 
Las Lcmas, and the next night found me in San Jose. 
H. F. A. 
A Man with a Gtf n. 
I WAS standing on the railroad station waiting for th« 
train and every one I saw was looking at me. A small 
boy came up to me, put himself in a spreading attitude, 
with both hands in his pockets fumbling his marbles, and 
snid : "Say, mister, what are you going to shoot." 
"Nothing," I said, but he still stood around and ad- 
mired the gun with now and then a question, and I stood 
there twirling one of the buttons on my hunting coat. 
The next that came out of the crowd was the village 
doctor. He, too, was going on the train, but he was 
more interested than the small boy. He took the gun 
from my hands, and, with the position of a crack shot, 
pointed it at the fence posts, insulators on the telegraph 
poles and other objects. Then he asked me if the gun 
was loaded. 
"No," I said, "I will break it and show you." 
"No, no, don't break it ; I believe you." But I showed 
him the workings of the modern fowling piece to his 
great satisfaction, and he said he was glad that he knew 
what it was to break without being broken. The doctor 
told life what a fine shot his brother used to be down in 
Virginia, but I refrained from telling him that many years 
ago I was captain of a raft 4x6 on a little pond in western 
Massachusetts. 
The next one that oozed out of the crowd was a. pro- 
fessional man from the land of the heather; polite and 
kmd, a fine example from his native land. He started 
in with "Ah! my boy, out for robins this afternoon? I 
suppose they are quite plentiful, and it seems a shame 
to kill them." Then I started in and I read the riot act 
in a modest way and wound up with asking him if he 
could tell me why most foreigners thought always of kill- 
ing our song birds. His answer was evasive and I know 
as much about it to-day as I did when I asked the ques- 
tion. 
I told him I was going out after English snipe and he 
wanted to know how long since the English bird had 
been introduced here. Then my answer was evasive and 
] had to tell him they were also called Wilson's snipe. 
"Where do you find them, in field or fen?" "In the fields 
and 'fresh' meadows," I said. Then I had to explain the 
difference between a fresh and salt meadow. 
The next to come along was a member of the National 
Guard, S. N. Y., from one of the crack regiments in the 
city. He picked up my gun, "hefted" it and said, "Light's 
a feather, aint it?" 
I remarked it was classed in that weight. Then the 
train whistled coming to the station, and we all thought 
the same just then. * * * 
All communications for Forest and Stream must he 
directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New York, to 
receive attention. We have no other oMce. 
A Day's Outing at Greensboro. 
It was on the 21st of May that Bert and I decided 
to go to Greensboro. "To go to Greensboro" at that 
season of the year always means to go on a fishing 
trip to Greensboro Pond, or, to use the more preten- 
tious name, Caspian Lake. We had been talking about 
going ever since opening day, but the unseasonably 
cold and rainy weather had not been favorable, and 
the reports from the lake that reached us had been 
rather discouraging. So we got our tackle ready and 
waited until the signs should be more promising. 
The day before we decided to go we fell in with a 
man who came directly from the lake. He said they 
had started to bite and were biting in dead earnest; 
that he had caught 40 pounds the previous day in about 
three hours. He also told us of one Carter who had 
a camp on the lake for fishermen. He said Carter was 
the prince of good fellows and anglers; that he knew 
where each and every fish in the pond was at any time, 
and if they would not bite he simply made them bite. 
We listened to this report without a murmur, and con- 
cluded that Carter was just the man we had been look- 
ing for, and, as the next morning dawned warm and 
bright, we decided to cast our lines and fortunes with 
him that day. 
We made good time and soon reached Morrisville 
and from there up the Lamoille valley through Wol- 
cott, Hardwick and East Hardwick. The day continued 
pleasant and warm, the finest thus far of the spring. 
The road was good and our spirits were considerably 
higher than the schoolboys' out on a holiday. At east 
Hardwick we left the valley and, turning to the north, 
soon came to the hills we knew we must climb in order 
to reach the elevation of the lake. In about half an 
hour we were on the ridge and could look over into 
the basin of the pond, and presently we saw the water 
glisten along the eastern shore. Bert quickened the 
pace of the horses, and soon the whole outline of the 
lake was visible. The woods on the eastern slope 
stretched away from us in an unbroken line. At the 
south we saw a few houses of the little village, and on 
lllQ north and west sides farms with tb^ir meadows 
sloping down to the broken border of woods along 
the water's edge. It is a most beautiful sheet of water 
whose resting place is among the rock-strewn hills 
high above the valleys below. Its shores are lined with 
granite boulders and ledges. In fact, the lake itself 
would seem to rest in a granite basin. 
Some thirty years ago, after unusually heavy rains 
and high water, those who lived about the south end 
of the lake believed that its outlet was deepeiiing; that 
the water was breaking through its natural barrier and 
the pond would "go out." A fast horse and rider were 
hastened down the valley to warn the people below of 
the danger, and many left their homes for the high land. 
But the pond did not "go out," and it never will, for 
its outlet is over a solid granite ledge, which time itself 
can barely change. We delayed only a moment to en- 
joy the lake from its aesthetic side. 
On reaching the village we learned that Carter's camp 
was at the extreme north end of the lake, so we urged 
our horses two and one-half miles further, or half way 
around the pond. We found the camp without diffi- 
culty, and a good one it appeared to be, nicely situated 
in a grove of spruces and birches, and commanding 
a view of nearly the whole lake. We pulled up in front 
of the wide porch with a loud "whoa," and a rather 
sanctimonious looking individual, dressed in a pair of 
overalls, flannel shirt and Van Dyke beard came through 
the trees on our left. He greeted us in a fatherly way, 
and on reaching us introduced himself as Mr. Carter 
and got into the carriage with Bert, to take the team 
up to a neighboring farm-house. In the meantime I 
busied myself putting the rods together and "stringing 
up." Bert soon came back alone, and I asked him what 
Carter said the prospect was. He answered that Car- 
ter said he guessed they were getting a few. But he 
seemed a little disappointed over something, and finally 
said Carter did not look just as he expected; that Car- 
ter appeared more like a church deacon than a fisher- 
man; and if he wasn't a deacon he knew he must be 
an ex-Sunday-school _ superintendent, probably escaped 
from some picnic given on the shores of the pond. 
I inferred from this that such mild manners and devout 
appearance seemed to Bert a little inconsistent with a 
character which, by sheer force of will, could compel 
fish to bite, and, although I remembered that the time- 
renowned Izaak is pictured as having similar character- 
istics, I was inclined to agree with him. Bert then 
cautioned me about my choice of adjectives when in Mr. 
Carter's presence, lest we offend him, and said he should 
try to restrain himself in case he got hold of a good 
fish and lost it. 
After getting our tackle in readiness we went into 
the kitchen of the camp to interview the cook. We 
found him a young man industriously reading a dime 
novel. On asking him if the fish were biting much 
lately, he carelessly remarked that he got thirteen the 
night before after supper, fishing off the rocks just 
above the camp. As we did not appear to believe in 
so unlucky a number, he asked us to go out to the ice- 
house with him to look at them. We did so, and he 
brought forth from the sawdust a baker's dozen of nice 
"lakers" weighing about 2 pounds apiece. He selected 
two for our supper, and while they were cooking we 
once more arranged our tackle. Carter soon came in 
with his minnow trap, which had yielded plenty of bait 
for us, showed us how he put on a small sucker, and 
gave us general instructions. We hurriedly did justice 
to those trout as soon as ready, and taking our rods 
and tackle box started for the pond. Bert took the 
stern seat in the boat and I the bow, with Mr. Carter 
at the oars. Just as we were pushing off we noticed 
some distance out in the lake a fellow rowing by in a 
blue boat holding a trolling line in his teeth. At the 
sight of him Carter exclaimed, "There goes the pot- 
hunter" (market fisherman), and at once his sancti- 
moniousness seemed to fall from him like snow slides 
from a roof. Shaking his bailing dipper at the reced- 
ing boat, he burst forth into a period of strenuous 
speech concerning "pot-hunters" as violent as it was 
unexpected. He unfeelingly condemned them to eter- 
nal punishment, and pictured their future abiding place 
tnpre vividly than could have Dante himself. I looked 
oyer at Bert, and a relieved expression seemed to be 
passing over his face. He was already reaching into 
the bait pail for a minnow. Looking up he said, "Well, 
I believe we are going to get some fish" — and we did. 
