CREATURES OF MYSTERY 
127 
in the tall grass applying his ventriloquism as the herd of deer 
dash frantically at every roar of the unseen beast. 
The path he had,followed into the “rough” held forth his 
most promising avenue of escape unscathed, so he subdued his 
pride and retreated from the scene, but not for long. Re¬ 
appearing presently, armed with matches and a potato hook, 
he was prepared to renew the battle. With the aid of his rake 
and some straw gathered for the purpose, he encircled the 
“rough” with a fire, leaving an opening of twenty or thirty 
feet on one side where no fire was strewn, standing conven¬ 
iently near that he might guard that. Soon the dry grass and 
litter became a raging inferno. The table had been turned 
about—it was now the rattler’s turn to run. Rearing his head 
above the level of the grass to survey the situation, he ob¬ 
served only this one possible avenue of escape—whether or 
not he took note of Uncle Dave standing by is not in the story. 
They seem to dread fire worse than any other enemy. His only 
thought, seemingly, was to escape the flame. Then if it should 
1— Leaping with the agility of a jungle cat he threw the rattler clear 
of his leg, thus delivering himself from the danger which menaced him.* 
2— “Das de way I alius kills ’em, Miss, an’ ah nevvah is been bit yit.”** 
3— It was with the greatest imaginable difficulty that he ever found 
this one. He had pursued him into a rough spot in the center of his field. 
The ground having been cultivated all around the spot affording him 
shelter left no possible doubt in his mind that he was lurking there, ob¬ 
serving every move he made, but to find him proved to be a Herculean 
task. Not until he finally mounted the fence, balancing himself with a 
rail did he ever locate him. His vision proved better looking straight 
down than when peering through the straw and weeds. Less obstruction 
being encountered, he finally found him lying lengthwise on a flat bottom 
rail, so decayed that his color blended perfectly with it. 
4— Uncle Dave’s hopes were running high as he trudged his way 
toward his favorite hunting ground with fishing tackle and “cap-an’- 
ball” rifle. 
5— The red-fin pike splashing the ink-black waters of the lagoons was 
a sight calculated to challenge the sporting blood of any humble follower 
of Izaak Walton. Besides being a tasty dish they presented a picture 
fit to adorn the walls of nobility’s hunting lodges. 
They bit like famished wolves, but when the old gentleman came 
around to the point of stringing up his fish where he had thrown them, 
nary a one was found. A large water-rattler had crept silently from 
underneath a great tussock and had devoured them all. 
6— Sorrowfully he trudged his way homeward to a plate of cold blue- 
stem collards and corn-pone when his appetite had been built up for 
well brown pike, corn-dodgers seasoned with onions, and freshly brewed 
coffee. 
*See story, pages 53 and 54. 
**See story, page 59. 
