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THE STORY OF THE CROCODILE. 
It was curious to watch their proceedings. An Indian, stripping off his 
bark shirt, creeps slowly through the shallow water toward an alligator with 
a sling in his left hand and in his right a pole, with a slip-noose at the end 
of a stout rawhide. Though the alligator sees him coming, it will not 
attempt either to attack or fly; it lies lazily there, looking steadily with its 
protruding eyes at the bold hunter, occasionally giving a lazy movement 
with its powerful tail. It does not seem to notice the noose when actually 
before its eyes. 
The hunter suddenly throws it over the monster’s head, and draws it 
taut with a steady jerk. Then the other Indians, who have been watching, 
rush on, and with a long, strong pull they all land the creature, struggling 
to get back, and lashing sand and water with its powerful tail. A few vigor¬ 
ous blows of an ax on the head and tail soon disable it. 4 
It is rather curious that the alligator never seems to rush on its antago¬ 
nists. A single movement in that direction would scatter them all in a 
moment. They would drop pole and loop and ax, and run for dear life. The 
Indians are so expert that accidents from the tail are rare. 
They like the flesh, but they begin by cutting out from under the jaws 
and belly, near the tail, four musk-glands, in pairs, which if left, diffuse their 
flavor through the whole body. These glands are a valuable article of com¬ 
merce; and the Indians tie them up carefully and dry them in the sun. 
Mixed with a little rose-water, the contents of these glands perfume the raven 
locks of elegant Bolivian ladies at Santa Cruz de la Sierra and Cochabamba, 
whose nose can stand and enjoy its powerful odor as they do a bull-fight, 
but who, gracefully as they roll cigaritos and dance their favorite dances, 
often cannot write their names. 
