Sept. 19, 1908.] 
45 • 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
He took one of his own arrows from his quiver 
and thrust it into the wound in the cow, so that 
it became bloody on the head and shaft. Then 
he set to work to skin the buffalo. 
As it happened, another Sioux was skinning 
a buffalo just over the next little hill, and when 
the arrow shot by the first Sioux came down 
from above, it pierced him over the shoulder 
blade, being stopped by the bone, and so not 
inflicting a bad wound. 
The man who had been shot called out to 
those near him, and presently all the Indians 
began to run toward him, thinking that some 
enemy had shot him. Among those who ran 
up was the man who owned the arrow that had 
hit the wounded man, and when it was pulled 
from the wound and held up, the owner said, 
“Why, that is my arrow.” Then the wounded 
man was angry at the owner of the arrow and 
wanted to shoot him, and for a little while there 
was a prospect of a fight. 
At length, however, the owner of the arrow 
explained that he had shot it into a buffalo and 
the blood on the shaft showed that this was 
true, for only the point of the arrow had en¬ 
tered the wounded man, while the shaft was 
bloody a long way up, where it had deeply 
pierced the buffalo. 
Then they began to calculate where the arrow 
must have come from, and going back in the 
direction from which it had been shot, they 
found the other Sioux skinning the buffalo that 
he had stolen. When he was taxed w r ith the 
shooting he acknowledged it, and at the same 
time confessed to stealing the meat, but ex¬ 
plained that he had not intended to do any harm 
with the arrow, but had only wanted to lose it, 
so that his theft of the cow would not be dis¬ 
covered. 
The appropriating of a dead buffalo which be¬ 
longed to another by making away with the 
arrow, which was the mark of identification,, was 
not infrequent among some tribes of plains In¬ 
dians. It was done especially to secure the buf¬ 
falo hide, which was the equivalent of money. 
Of meat there was always a plenty, and if any 
lodge was short of meat there were always many 
relatives to whom people in need could go to 
ask for the food they required. 
The Indians used to get rid of the arrows 
by hiding them in various ways, sometimes by 
shooting them away into the grass, sometimes 
by thrusting them down into holes, or if they 
were close to a stream, by shooting them into 
the water; at all events, by putting them some¬ 
where where the owner could not find them. 
They could not put them in their own quivers 
and use them, because sooner or later the owner 
or some friend of the owner would b,e sure to 
recognize them. 
There is an old saying that every bullet has 
its billet, and these two instances would seem 
to imply that this is as true of arrows as it is 
of bullets. 
Geo. Bird Grinnell. 
The Indian Striped Squirrel. 
The common squirrel of India is a fur-cov¬ 
ered bundle of iniquity. He is a bigger rascal 
than either the crow or the sparrow. I am 
aware that these statements will not be believed 
by many residents of Northern India. I am 
sorry, but the truth must be told. Let those 
who will imagine Sciurus palmarum to be a 
pretty, fluffy little creature, as charming as he 
is abundant. I know better. I have sojourned 
in Madras. In Northern India the little striped 
squirrel is merely one of the many tribes that 
live on your frontier. In South India he is the 
stranger who dwells within your gates. We 
who are condemned to residence in the plains 
of Northern India keep our bungalows shut up 
during the greater part of the year In order to 
protect ourselves from the heat, or the cold, or 
the dust, or whatever climatic ill happens to be 
in season. And when the weather does permit 
us to open our doors we have to guard them 
by means of chiks from the hordes of insects 
that are always ready to rush in upon us. Thus 
we keep the squirrel at arm’s length. 
In Madras you lead a very different life. The 
gentle breeze is always welcome. You rarely 
if ever close the doors of your bungalow, for 
extremes of temperature are unknown. Nor 
are you obliged to protect every aperture by 
means of a chik. There is thus no barrier be¬ 
tween the squirrel and yourself. The result is 
that the impudent little rodent behaves as though 
he believed that men build their bungalows 
chiefly for his benefit. 
Not content with living rent free in your 
house during the nesting season, he expects you 
to furnish his quarters for him and to provide 
him with food. As I have hinted elsewhere, 
Indian bungalows are constructed in such a 
manner as to lead one to infer that there is a 
secret compact between the builders and the 
fowls of the air. The rafters rarely fit prop¬ 
erly into the walls, and the spaces left make 
ideal nesting sites for sparrows and squirrels. 
These last, although devoid of wings, are such 
adepts at climbing that there are few spots in 
any building to which they are unable to gain 
access. 
In Madras punkhas are up all the year round, 
and as usually they are pulled only at meal 
times, squirrels regard them as paths leading 
to their nests. Running up the hanging rope, 
walking, Blondin-like, along the leathern thongs 
that lead to the punkha, jumping from these 
on to the top of the punkha frame, climbing up 
the rope to a rafter and marching along this to 
the nest are feats which the little striped rodent 
performs without effort. In default of a suit¬ 
able cavity the squirrel constructs among the 
branches of a tree a large globular nest, which 
has the appearance of a conglomeration of 
grass, straw and rubbish, but it contains a cosily- 
lined central cavity. Any available soft material 
is used to make the interior of the nest warm 
and comfortable. When squirrels are nesting 
it is not safe to leave any balls or skeins of 
wool lying about the bungalow. 
The fluffy little creatures sometimes display 
considerable ingenuity in adapting materials for 
use in nest construction. One rascal of my ac¬ 
quaintance, says D. Dewar in the Indian Forester, 
destroyed a nearly new gray topi, finding the 
felt covering and the pith “the very thing” for 
nest lining. 
Books on natural history inform us that the 
food of this species of squirrel consists of seeds, 
fruits and buds with an occasional insect by way 
of condiment. This is the truth, but it is not 
the whole truth. The above list does not by 
any means exhaust the menu of Sciurus pal¬ 
marum. My experience shows him to be nearly 
as omnivorous as the myna. 
Occasionally I fall asleep again after my 
chota hazri has been brought. In Madras I was 
sometimes punished for my laziness by the dis¬ 
appearance of the toast or the butter. Need¬ 
less to state that theft had been perpetrated and 
that the crows and the squirrels were the cul¬ 
prits. 
On one occasion I feigned sleep in order to 
see what would happen. For a little all was 
still. Presently a squirrel quietly entered the 
room, took a look around, then climbed up a 
leg of the table and boldly pulled a piece of 
toast out of the rack which was within a couple 
of feet of my face. It was no easy matter for 
the little thief to climb down the leg of the 
table with his big load. A loud thud announced 
that the toast had fallen on to the floor. The 
squirrel scampered away in alarm, leaving his 
booty behind him. In a few seconds his head 
appeared at the doorway. Having regarded me 
attentively with his bright little eye and satis¬ 
fied himself that all was well, he advanced to 
the toast and bore it off. But. alas, the way 
of transgressors is hard. A “lurking, villain 
crow,” who had been watching the theft from 
the verandah, pounced upon the thief and bore 
off his ill-gotten toast. The wrath of the squir¬ 
rel was a sight for the gods. His whole frame 
quivered as he told that crow what he thought 
of him. 
Sciurus palmarum is very fond of bread and 
milk, and will, in order to obtain this, perform 
deeds of great daring. I once kept a grackle, 
or hill myna. This bird, when not at large, used 
to dwell in a wicker cage. In a corner of this 
cage a saucer of bread and milk was sometimes 
placed. The squirrels soon learned to climb up 
V 
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