890 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June 5, 1909. 
have never found a winter climate so congenial 
as this. Neither too hot nor too cold, little 
rain, no dew. I hope to winter here again.” 
“You’re dead right,” the Old Timer agreed. 
“Tucson, now, she’s a leetle mite too cool, an' 
Phoenix is jest a leetle too warm. An’ then. I 
ain’t got any use for towns anyhow. I like to 
come an’ winter here where they’s a plenty of 
game, an’ where I can see her, there”-—pointing 
to Florence—-“lying on her uppers.” 
After a long silence; “I been over a heap 
of country since Adamsville died, prospectin’ 
here an' there in Old Mexico, Lower California, 
New Mexico, an’ I never got back to this 
p’ticular place till four year ago. I been 
campin’ here every winter since. If it hadn't 
a been fer a little strike I made, I wouldn’t 
be here now.” 
“You have struck it, then?” I asked. 
He looked at me shrewdly. “Nothin’ to 
speak of,” he replied, “but enough fer an old 
man like me to live comf’tabh^ on, so long as 
I can keep others from gittin’ on to it. She’s 
up there”—waving his hand northward—“up 
there in the big mount’ins an’ buried four foot 
under snow now. Nothin’ great, mind 3'ou, 
nothing but a big, long wash with a chunk of 
float here an’ there so rich that it’s plumb 
yeller speckled. I can’t find the vein it all 
comes from, but I pound up the best of the 
float an’ pan it careful with quicksilver. This 
last summer I cleaned up about four hundred. 
Say—you want some honey?” 
Of course I did, although I would have pre¬ 
ferred to hear Old Timer talk further about 
himself. 
He had been watching bees leave his spring 
and learned that the majority of them, laden 
with sweets of his own providing, flew either 
due west or southeast. We began exploring the 
rock ledge between his camp and mine, and in 
a couple of hours found a bee colony in a cliff pro¬ 
jecting over a big wash. In a crevice about six 
inches wide we could see the bees swarming 
in and out, and climbing up and looking in from 
the far end of the crack, we could even see 
several combs of honey. Forthwith my com¬ 
panion went to* his camp after a charge of 
giant powder and a bucket, and I to mine for 
more buckets. We were to lower the charge 
by the fuse down into the end of the crack as 
far as it would go, at the end furthest from the 
honey, and were confident that the shot would 
blow out the big. nearly loose lower rock, so 
all we would have to do would be to encase 
ourselves in gunny sacks and fill our pails. 
I have had no experience with giant powder. 
I do not even like to stand by while your expert 
carelessly runs a hole into the end of a stick of 
it and inserts the cap-covered fuse. I therefore 
left that part of the work to the Old Timer 
and took a position some distance away, where 
I could safely watch the proceeding. Having 
fixed the charge to his liking, he climbed up 
and lowered it in the proper place, touched a 
match to the fuse and sauntered up the wash. 
I should have run had I been doing it. I 
watched with straining eyes, and presently there 
was a deep detonation, a puff of white smoke, 
and then the big cracked piece of the cliff—a 
chunk many tons in weight—was heaved from 
place and fell the twelve of fifteen feet to the 
bed of the wash. For an instant I saw the 
honey, great masses of yellow, and brown, and 
blackish comb fast to the rock, and then down 
came the whole face of the cliff with a loud 
roar and a spouting of dust. The Old Timer 
and I went thither and mourned over our 
buried hopes; buried they were, thirty feet 
under the rock mass. We were about to pick 
up our empty buckets and depart, when down 
came a good sized rattlesnake from the heap. 
wriggling as actively as though it were mid¬ 
summer. I doubt if they ever become really 
torpid in this section. 
“I want its skin,” I said, as I picked up a 
stick and killed the reptile. 
“And I its grease for my rheumatism,” said 
the Old Timer. And so we divided the 
spoils. 
But, a few days later, we got honey, quanti¬ 
ties of light yellow mesquite honey, from a bee 
cave. It was in a crevice too narrow for one 
to enter, so, protected from the insects with 
gunny sacks, we pushed a clean sack in on the 
floor of the place, tied a butcher knife to a stick 
of okatia, and sliced the combs from the wall. 
They dropped on to the sack, and then we 
hauled that out and filled our buckets. 
There are a great many colonies of bees in 
these Superstition Mountains. 
To Deal in Snake Skins. 
Consul B. S. R.mrden, of Batavia, reports 
that the Java Reptile Skin Company, with a re¬ 
ported capital of $40,000, has been established 
at different places in Java for the purpose of 
dealing principally in snake skins. The com¬ 
pany is to have branches throughout the in¬ 
terior of the island, buying up live snakes, if 
possible, which are skinned alive, as the skins 
so taken are much superior to the skins taken 
from the dead reptile. Live snakes of thirteen 
and eighteen feet in length bring good prices, 
while the dead ones are purchased at very low 
figures. These snake skins are for the export 
market and are extensively used in Europe for 
making belts, bags, etc. 
The Forest and Stream may he obtained from 
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supl^ly you regularly. 
Martins in Villages. 
Philadelphia, Pa., May 27.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: In the seventies, when I was living in 
Lakeville, Conn., Mr. Cornell, one of my neigh¬ 
bors, made and set up on a pole about fifteen 
feet high, a rather elaborate bird house. It was 
several stories high and contained many rooms. 
He was asked what it was for, and he replied, 
“For martins.” He was laughed at and in¬ 
formed that there had not been a martin seen in 
that neighborhood in the last twenty-five years, 
but he informed his critics that if the martins 
were furnished with a suitable place to nest, 
they would find it. The event proved him right, 
for martins came and nested in his little house 
the first season after it was erected, and con¬ 
tinued to return and occupy it every year as 
long as I lived there. 
I moved to Eastern Nebraska in 1881, and as 
the martin was one of my favorite birds, I made 
a two-story-and-ell bird house, and set it on a 
pole in front of my house; it contained eleven 
rooms. I set it up in the fall, and the next 
spring three of the rooms were occupied by 
as many families of martins. They returned 
every year in increasing numbers until every 
room was occupied, and they were there when 
I left the State in 1902. The only trouble was 
caused by that little pest, the English sparrow. 
They were determined to occupy the house, but 
the martins are good fighters and, backed as 
they were by my rifle, the sparrows were kept 
away. 
I rented the premises until last fall and sup¬ 
posed that the sparrows were in full possession 
at that time. My daughter, who is living there 
now, wrote me a few days ago that the martins 
were still there. 
I believe that in any country place or in small 
towns, if suitable boxes are arranged for them 
to nest in, and the sparrows are kept away, the 
martins will find and nest in them. In a very 
short time the martins got so they paid no at- 
.tention to the shooting. I have repeatedly shot 
a sparrow off the little house without disturbing 
the martins in the least. They seemed to 
realize that we were friends trying to help 
them. Put up some boxes, you bird lovers, and 
try it, but be sure to have the .22 ready for the 
sparrows. E. A. Palmer. 
A Forgotten Tomb. 
Lockport, N. Y., May 20.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: On Tuesday there was found on the 
Sweeney farm, six miles east of Lockport, a 
mass of bones of some Indian tribe. While re¬ 
moving the trees of an old peach orchard a 
human skull was exposed in the roots of one 
of the trees. An examination was at once com¬ 
menced and up to the present time more than 
a hundred skulls—many of them including the 
