140 
FOREST AND STREAM 
March, 1921 
HERE’S THE ENGINE FOR 
YOUR SMALL FISHING BOAT 
The New 2-H.P. 
FOUR CYCLE 
REGAL 
Can be throttled 
to slow speed and 
is built like the 
large engines. 
Weighs 125 lbs. 
Other Sizes up to 50-H.P. 
REGAL GASOLINE ENGINE COMPANY 
10 GRAND ST. COLDWATER, MICH. 
The Only Book on Hunting in the South 
Plantation Game Trails 
300 Pages 
Wonderful Wild Life Pictures 
Records of Famous Plantation Hunts 
from the Author, 
ARCHIBALD RUTLEDGE, Mercersburg, Pa. 
$3.00 POSTPAID 
□ARROW’S Sectional Boats 
6 Styles 25 Sizes 
Easily carried on any Auto. Shipped hy rail 
at one fourth cost of one piece boat. 
Guaranteed safe, simple, durable and lasting. 
Nine years on the market without a complaint. 
Catalogue on request. 
F. H. DARROW STEEL BOAT CO. 
20 CLINTON ST., ALBION, MICH. 
Factory to Rider 
isaves $15 t to 826 on the model 
you select from 44 Styles, colors 
and sizes of Ranger bicycles. Delivered 
free on approval, express prepaid . direct 
from the Makers for 30 Days Free Trial. 
We pay re.urn charges if not satisfactory. 
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drl can save the small monthly payments. 
T . wheels, chains, parts and 
11*0$ equipment at half usual prices. 
BIG RANGER CATALOG FREE, with mar- 
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Unarl Cycle- Company! 
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WE ARE EXPERTS 
In the manufacture of 
rugs, doing the tanning, 
mounting the heads, 
open mouth, closed 
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flat, with eye expression 
and the best quality of 
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W. W. WEAVER. 
Reading, Mich. 
RARE AND OUT-OF-PRINT 
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Largest Stock. Catalog , Postage Free. 
/ d„|A 40 Peterboro St. 
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The girls slept in the loft which was 
reached by a rude ladder. Mr. and 
Mrs. Scott had the dining room, while 
the new rooms were for us, but one 
of us must sleep with Jimmy, the six- 
teen-year-old-son. I said: “That’s all 
right, we will toss a coin to see who 
has Jimmy for a partner. Uncle Billy, 
which do you choose, head or tail?” 
He said head, and Andy said tail; the 
coin fell tail. 
“Come on, Jimmy,” said Uncle Billy, 
and he never woke up to the fact that 
he did not toss with the rest of us until 
the next morning, when every one gave 
him the laugh, which he took in good 
part, but got square with me by telling 
the girls at breakfast that I was a mar- 
ried man, with a wife and baby boy at 
home in Jersey, which turned the laugh 
on me. Dear Uncle Billy, he was a 
jolly companion. 
We started for the sloughs again 
shortly after sunrise, and as we neared 
the lake a large pack of chickens took 
wing in front of us at about one hun- 
dred yards. I immediately started on 
a run towards them and just as I ex- 
pected, up jumped a lazy one at about 
thirty yards, which I brought down 
with a quick shot. At the report up 
sprang another, to drop to my second 
barrel; when up got still another, but 
alas! my gun was empty, and he flew 
away unharmed. When I gathered the 
birds, I found them to be a beautiful 
brace of cocks, full grown, and being 
grain fed they were very fat and 
heavy. As I smoothed their beautiful 
plumage, I thought what a privilege it 
was to be permitted to shoot these 
splendid birds in their natural sur- 
roundings. 
Andy and I made our way as quickly 
as possible to the Canvas-back Pond, 
but alas! this was another day. My 
shooting of the afternoon before had 
broken them up and comparatively few 
came in, but still we killed a good 
string, all canvas-backs, excepting a 
few spoonbills. 
A S we made our way homeward in 
the afternoon, I took Andy across 
the slough to my dry island to 
show him the circle of buffalo skeletons. 
Now I have a great antipathy to 
snakes, and Mr. Scott had told us the 
night before that the sloughs were in- 
fested with rattle snakes, so as I 
walked down a cattle path through the 
grass, suddenly in the path before me 
stretched at full length lay a monster 
brown snake. I gave a yell and sprang 
to one side, but the snake was as dead 
as Julius Caesar and had been placed 
in the path by some practical joker. 
Mr. Scott told me it was a bull snake. 
How Andy did laugh at me. After I 
had smoothed my hair down again, we 
started on our way, but my nerves were 
on edge and I imagined a snake in 
every tuft of grass. After walking a 
short distance I heard a faint sissing 
noise like the whirring of a locust. 
“Hold on, Andy,” I cried, “here is a 
rattler. Don’t you hear him?” We 
both listened. The sound would almost 
die away, then swell louder again. We 
cautiously poked in the grass with our 
guns hut could see no snake, when sud- 
denly Andy looked up and began to 
laugh. “Neil, there is your rattler,” he 
said, and pointed across the slough to a 
huge grain stack on the upland about 
half a mile away, where a threshing out- 
fit was at work. The joke was surely 
on me. I had taken the low- hum of 
the machine for the deadly warning of 
the rattle-snake, and I never heard the 
last of it. Till the day of their death, 
Andy and Uncle Billy loved to tell of 
Neil’s rattle-snake adventure. 
L ATE in the afternoon, we prepared 
for our return to McPherson. 
The ducks, over a hundred of 
them, and three geese (George and 
Uncle Billy had killed a pair from a 
passing flock) were piled in, the rear 
of the wagon and they were a splendid 
lot, both as to variety and condition. 
Mr. Scott and his wife were milking 
the cows, and when I asked how much 
we were in their debt, Mr. Scott point- 
ed to a well-known fraternal emblem on 
my shirt and said: “Nothing when you 
are wearing that. We have enjoyed 
your visit more than you can know, and 
we are in your debt. Come again.” 
These hospitable people absolutely re- 
fused to accept a cent for all their 
trouble, and the matter was finally ad- 
justed by my laying a roll of bills in 
Mrs. Scott’s lap as she sat milking and 
we hurriedy drove away. We made 
several return trips and were always 
received with open arms. 
BAGGING A SEAL 
FOR A MUSEUM 
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 131) 
A small fleet of mudhens were treading 
water across the lagoon bobbing their 
black velvet heads to and fro. In a 
mud-hole surrounded by green marsh ; 
grass a lone kildee was balancing him- 
self on one leg and piping his melan- 1 
choly note. Beyond the marshland a 
ranchero was ploughing an irrigation 
ditch. How clearly his swarthy visage 
could be seen beneath his broad som- 
brero in the transparent evening light! 
Returning to the beach I heaved the 
canoe up and placed it on my head once 
more. I was returning to the shed with 
it when whom should I run plumb into 
but Ramon. I almost dropped my heavy 
burden on his toes. 
“Buenos dias, Ramon,” greeted I 
blandly after I had slid the craft. on the 
two saw-horses in its accustomed corner. 
“Carramba! Mil toneros!” ejaculated 
my Spanish friend, a terrific frown de- 
scending over his fine eyes. “What you 
do down there — you shoot seal?” 
Ramon had recently been inaugurated 
game warden of Ventura county. 
“Listen, amego — ” I ventured, taking 
hold of his lapel affectionately, “I have 
a permit. I am doing this for a mu- , 
seum. Look,” and I showed him the ) 
official paper. 
“Ha!” laughed Ramon, and we clasped 
hands enthusiastically. 
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