March 29, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
397 
a luindrecl years. To run feighty miles a day 
is nothing strange for them. As I have said 
before, theft is of rare occurrence, as are also 
murders, which happen only when the Indians 
are intoxicated. There are cases of suicide, 
but, strange to say, mostly caused by disap¬ 
pointed love. The Tarahumare likes his home¬ 
made beer, called tesgiiino. They like music 
and they play mostly on a very primitive violin, 
their melodies, as with most savage races, being 
very melancholy. 
The Tarahumares are great gamblers; and 
once they get the passion they will gamble 
away all their possessions, for they never worry 
about the to-morrow. Although their principal 
occupation is agriculture, they are very fond of 
hunting. This is done mostly with bows and 
arrows, and traps. As they are excellent run¬ 
ners, they have been known to run behind a 
deer for two days, until the animal is at the 
breaking point, when they kill it with their 
arrows. There has been scarcely a case in 
which the deer outran a Tarahumare. When 
the father of the family goes out hunting, he 
leaves the house early in the morning, with an 
ax and a bow. Seeing, for an example, a 
squirrel in a tree, he cuts down the tree, and, 
if the squirrel jumps to another, he cuts that 
also. Often it requires a whole day to kill one 
squirrel. I could not understand this proceed¬ 
ing, but finally I came to the conclusion that 
these children of the wilds love the noise of 
the falling tree, which often comes down with a 
terrific crash. 
After spending a few days in the caves, the 
second chief, Peiia, invited me to accompany 
him to the highlands on a hunting trip, from 
which I intended to continue the trip south. I 
was rather sorry to leave this interesting cave 
village, and I was pleased to see that men, 
women and children turned out to take leave 
of me. After a rather difficult ascent. I took 
a last glance from the bank of El Cobre bar¬ 
ranca at the small Indian village which lay a 
thousand feet below. From there we went to 
Yoquibo, famous for its immense grottoes. I 
was more than anxious to find out something 
about the sepulchral caves of the Tarahumares, 
of which Mr. Alvaraez advised me that there 
were a number near Yoquibo and Guachichic. 
With all kinds of promises and good words, I 
finally induced the old chief to take me to one 
of them. 
Hidden behind a high boulder, covered with 
a stone slab, we found the entrance, and went 
in to one of the strange chambers. To my 
great disappointment, most of the skeletons 
had been tampered with. Only one perfect one, 
that of a woman, I found in one corner, lying 
on its side, with the face to the east. Nearby I 
found a skull of great size, but. to my sur¬ 
prise. I discovered a hole, cleanly chiseled in the 
top. This reminded me of the statements of 
scientists who had traveled through the same 
region, and who claimed that the ancient tribes 
knew something of trepination, although it is 
very doubtful if this operation was performed 
for this object. Probably it was done to let 
out a devil which was thought to be inside the 
head. These sepulchral caves are used less at 
present than formerly, as the Mexican govern¬ 
ment insists upon the burial of the dead. 
[to be continued.] 
Florida Deer Hunting. 
BY D. M. EDGERTON. 
jMounted upon my chestnut hunter “Don,” 
and accompanied b\' my hound “Prince” 
and a “Florida cracker” guide on foot, I was 
out in the winter of 1892-3 after deer in the 
pine flats of Florida, between the Indian and 
St. Johns rivers. We had long failed to “strike 
a trail” and were returning home, when sud¬ 
denly Prince “opened” and was off in full song, 
through the grasses bordering a large marsh. 
It being late, we did not follow, but stopped, 
listening to Prince, and by the loud tongue he 
was giving, we knew that the trail was warm. 
Patiently waiting, we could tell that far 
around the marsh the deer was flying with Prince 
on the trail hot after. Ere long I sighted the 
deer in the distance on the opposite side of the 
marsh, making directly toward us. 
Directing the guide to hide, I sat quietly 
waiting the deer’s approach and Don, well know¬ 
ing what was up, standing like a statue, his eye, 
too, on the coming game, a fine buck came tear¬ 
ing on until within about forty yards, when it 
swerved to pass. It was then that I gave him 
a charge of buckshot aft of the shoulder, fully 
expecting to see him do a somersault. Instead, 
to my astonishment, he swung clear around, came 
full about, and crossing his own tracks, made 
off, but not until I had given him the second 
barrel. We followed, certain of finding the buck 
down in the grasses, but Prince now coming 
up and taking up the trail was again off and 
soon out of sight. So surprised and disgusted 
was I now over the fiasco that we stayed no 
longer, and it being near dark, put for home, I 
vowing that “never more” would I hunt deer. 
Especially was I cut up because I had, when not 
hunting, sighted this same big buck and claimed 
him for my own. Some time after I met an 
old hunting acquaintance who said to me: 
“Colonel, do you remember the buck you were 
after? Well, I found him two days later, dead 
in the marsh, I being attracted to the spot by 
flying buzzards, and I have his horns,” adding, 
“You ought not to have been so surprised, as 
I shot a deer one day over on the island and 
it ran several hundred yards before falling, and 
when dressed, I found that two balls had gone 
clear through his heart. They will do this some¬ 
times when running hard.” “Yes, I know,” said 
I, “but I don’t like their playing that game on 
me, though I am glad you got his horns.” 
However, I got even the next time out. Not 
forgetting my foreswear and “still nursing his 
wrath to keep it warm”—the ruling passion too 
strong—I, with another “cracker,” struck out in 
another direction and had not traveled far be¬ 
fore Prince “picked up” a good trail which was 
long followed until it led into a patch of saw 
palmetto, and out of which Prince jumped two 
deer, each of us bringing down one and both 
of which I carried home. 
There is still, in this 1913, good hunting in 
parts of the Upper St. Johns River country for 
deer, wild turkeys, wildcats, ’coon, with quail 
everywhere, but game has been much disturbed 
in many places by the convict camps—colored 
“tarheels”—tapping the pines for turpentine sap. 
The fresh water streams and lakes abound in 
black bass, and wild ducks are plentiful on the 
Indian and Banana rivers and other places dur¬ 
ing the winter. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
IMinnesota Fanny, a thoroughbred English 
setter, owned by Troy Cantrell, of Lead Hill, 
Ark., wears spectacles. She was fitted with 
“specks” by an oculist, who found that she was 
suffering from astigmatism. For years Fanny 
has been known as the best hunting dog in 
Northwest Arkansas. Before the opening of 
the quail shooting season the dog went to the 
fields by herself, and on returning was badly 
scratched and showed evidence of bad falls and 
bumps. Her owner could not understand this 
until the opening day of the season. Fanny 
tried awfully hard, it seemed, but could not keep 
from falling into ditches and running into trees, 
and Mr. Cantrell then discovered that her eyes 
had become affected during the summer. 
The dog’s “specks” are held in place by 
straps and appear very much like goggles. The 
lenses are protected from damage by protrud¬ 
ing rims of metal. The intelligent dog seems to 
understand their benefit and “hunts” like an 
old-timer now, 
^ * 
Milford, Conn., March 3 .—Dear Griacly 
King: In your issue of Feb. 22 you printed a 
good duck story. Here is one better, onlj^ it 
does not happen to be a duck. 
Mr. Sewell called at the house of Mr. Tink- 
ham, on New Haven avenue. While there a 
hawk flew over and the chickens flew in all 
directions. ]\Ir. Sewell said. “Get your gun and 
shoot him.” Mr. Tinkham missed the first shot, 
but brought him down with the second barrel. 
The bird lay fluttering on the ground. Mr. 
Sewell said, “Go and finish him.” So they went 
to the bird, and as Mr. Tinkham raised his gun 
to shoot a voice said, “What the h —1 did you 
do that for!” Mr. Tinkham fell back and 
dropped his gun. Mr. Sewell said, “What did 
you say?” It was a large parrot they had 
wounded. Mr. Tinkham kept the bird ten days. 
when it died, and each morning it said, “D-n 
you” and “Thank you” when fed. 
5 ^ * 
Now, Grizzly, old chap, what do you make 
of this. It's a fact: 
Representative Akin, of New York, intro¬ 
duced a resolution into the House to authorize 
the Secretary of Agriculture “to purchase six 
thoroughbred turkey buzzards and ninety-nine 
thoroughbred humming birds for breeding pur¬ 
poses.” 
The resolution recites that whether the re¬ 
sults be gnats or fleas, the Secretary be directed 
to report to Congress whether such an experi¬ 
ment would be more valuable to the American 
farmer than the Department’s present experi¬ 
ments of breeding zebras to IMissouri mules, the 
offspring of which. Akin asserts ‘“is a cross be¬ 
tween a North Dakota jack rabbit and an Aus¬ 
tralian kangaroo." 
Grizzly King. 
