382 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Sept. 20, 1913. 
J. KANNOFSKY, 
PRACTICAL GLASS BLOWER 
and manufacturer of artificial eyes for birds, animals and manu 
facturing purposes a specialty. Send for prices. All kinds of 
heads and skulls for furriers and taxidermists. 369 Canal 
Street, New York. 
Please mention "Forest and Stream.” 
WHEN THE MIDNIGHT CHOO-CHOO 
LEAVES FOR ALABAM; 
Row-Row-Row: 100 other popular songs, with music; 
postpaid, 10 cents. Address BOND MUSIC CO., Lock 
Box 82, Station A, Boston, Mass. 
Your money back if you're not satisfied. 
r OCTOBER 1913 PRICE 15 CENTS 
ON THE 
NEW GAME LAWS 
The Federal dates for the open seasons 
for migratory birds, under the new \\ eeks’ 
Law, will go into effect October 1st. 
As there are many important changes in 
the open seasons, particularly on birds, ow¬ 
ing to this new law, as well as important 
changes in the open seasons for big game, 
we have published these laws in our Octo¬ 
ber BTG GAME AND GAME LAW 
NUMBuR. which can be obtained on all 
newsstands at 15 cents, or direct from us. 
Where to Go 
If you are taking a hunting trip this Fall 
read our Where to Go Department- before 
making your plans, or write direct to us for 
information on hunting, fishing, camping 
or canoeing. The information in this De¬ 
partment has been secured direct from the 
men who have been there. 
Secure a copy of this issue before your 
dealer is sold out, or send 25 cents direct 
to us for a three months’ trial subscription 
and copy of this issue will be sent you. 
Field and Stream Publishing Co. 
450 Fourth Avenue New York City 
the second shelf of rock. Hugh and Charley 
came along' about now, and we yelled to them 
to come on, but Hugh landed, and Charley came 
on alone and slam-banged through in a great 
manner, and he, too, almost hung up on the 
second shelf. Well, from that riff our troubles 
began for the following three or four miles. 
The river twisted and turned, and after each 
turn dropped about ten feet in bubbling, foam¬ 
ing rapids, and all of a sudden, without any 
warning at all we ran into a glen where the 
water dropped almost forty feet (we got out 
and sized it up afterward) in about 500 yards, 
and it was nothing but big jagged, sharp-edged 
rocks with water boiling up around them and 
swirling off into eddies and cross currents all 
about. 
Picture a “shoot-the-chutes” or a flight of 
stairs with thousands of rocks dumped on it, 
and water about three feet deep rushing down 
over that mess, and you have an idea of what 
that glen looked like. It rushed down, pell-mell, 
for about 200 feet, and then ended in a deep, 
swift running pool on the up stream side of an 
old broken dam, and below the dam was 300 
feet more of the rapids, but not quite as bad 
as the first half. Jack and Ed. were first, and 
they got through safely in some miraculous man¬ 
ner. Ed.’s paddle was flying from side to side 
like a flail, and you could hear Jack yell "Right, 
left, hard right, hold,” etc. I came right after 
them, and it was a joy to feel the old hulk of a 
La Chelito leap and bounce like a living thing. 
I was on my knees, using the single blade, and 
the canoe at times fairly leaped into the air, and 
then she’d rush full tilt for a rock and with a 
swirling eddy just below. I’d have to swing 
the paddle without changing my grip and shoot 
her over, first the bow and then the stern, and 
sometimes I'd have to literally pull her broad¬ 
side a trifle to clear a rock. There was no time 
to choose a course after entering, and all we 
could do was to avoid the rocks where the cur¬ 
rent swept us, and only in a general way pick 
out a certain route through the mess. It meant 
mighty quick work, and the sizing up of the 
situation in the twinkling of an eye, or you 
might as well mentally figure your loose change 
and dope out the cost of your return ticket from 
that spot. 
Jack and Ed. got through with very little 
water in the boat, and I had practically none, 
so we hauled the canoes out just above the old 
dam and ran back to take a look at what we 
had come through, and also to look for Hugh 
and Charley. The rocks were so thick in the 
bed of the stream that we could hop from one 
to the other almost any place, so you can see 
what it meant to guide a canoe through them. 
When we saw what we had been through we 
could hardly believe our senses, and if we were 
to take anybody to the spot and tell them that 
we came down there in a canoe, they would 
promptly elect us honorable members of the 
Ananias Club. 
Pretty soon we saw Hugh come running 
through the brush at the top of the bank, and 
then Charley appeared alone in the canoe at the 
head of the run. He paused, and we yelled for 
him to come on, that it was easy, and for him 
to enter on the left hand side. Well, he en¬ 
tered. He got one look at the mess. He yelled. 
He slewed broadside against a hidden ledge, 
hopped out like a cat. but was almost swept off 
his feet with the force of the water, but skin¬ 
ning the canoe over, he hopped in as it passed 
him, and then came dodging and twisting, bump¬ 
ing and scraping down the rapid in. great style. 
After getting our breath and emptying the 
water out of Charley's boat, we started to look 
at the rest of the stuff on the far side of the 
dam, but after one glance I knew that if I tried 
to dope out a course I’d get cold feet, so hop¬ 
ping in the canoe I started down, and clearing 
the debris of the dam, safely took the rest of 
the run without very much trouble. The rest 
of them got through all right, but the funny 
part was that none of them followed the original 
course that they had doped out. 
Nothing more happened outside of a half 
an hour’h wait for Hugh and Charley during 
a snow squall, when we had to sit under the 
canoes in a meadow until they caught up to us, 
and when they did arrive, we found that their 
boat was leaking badly, and they had had to 
stop and empty it a couple of times. Later we 
ran into a nice little dam of big boulders set 
in concrete, and although it looked fairly nasty, 
there was one place that was not quite as bad 
as the rest, and I decided to take the chance 
without the duffle. Well, it was not so very bad 
after all, but for a moment we were pretty well 
startled. The canoe had not much more than 
begun to dip over the edge than we heard a 
crunching and wrenching sound from under the 
stern, and I truly thought the whole back half 
of the boat was gone. However, when I pulled 
her out below there wasn’t even a scratch on it, 
as she had evidently hit square on the keel. The 
rest carried around this, as we were quite a bit 
behind in our schedule, and they didn’t want 
to risk the chance of a hole and the consequent 
delay patching same. 
After that the run was more or less unin¬ 
teresting. We came to a dam on the Ramapo 
that had had a foot of water pouring over it 
the week before, and which we had run with 
two men in the boat and all the duffle, but this 
week it was high and dry, and we had to carry 
around it. We finally got to Mountain View in 
time to catch the 6:01 p. m. train for the city 
and then up to the club for a good night’s sleep. 
Man-Eating Sharks. 
Rockford, Ill., Sept. 12 .— Editor Forest and 
Stream: I have read that no one knows posi¬ 
tively of a shark ever eating a man. While on 
an outing at White Lake, Montague, Michigan, 
this summer, I met Captain Andrew Flagstad, a 
retired sea captain, who knows every phase of 
sea life, a man of great worth of character, a 
gentleman whose truthfulness one could not 
doubt. It was a pleasure to meet him and hear 
him tell this story. It occurred about the year 
1859 when the captain was eighteen years of age, 
and one of the crew on the Frigate Savannah 
off the coast of Vera Cruz, Mexico. At that 
time all the sailors in the navy wore patent 
leather gaiters on Sunday morning, so that they 
would not have to blacken their shoes, and the 
initials of their names were under the instep of 
the gaiters. One of the young men of the crew 
had a boat hook under his arm, and turning 
quickly in a playful mood, accidentally hit a young 
man in the head, and he fell overboard. His 
name was James Kelley. He was a good swim¬ 
mer, but suddenly went out of sight. Two or 
