Berries and a Rattler 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
HAVE just finished reading the 
July issue of your good magazine, 
and enjoyed every bit of it. There 
are stories in it of outdoor life that 
bring one back to boyhood days. 
Here’s one of my experiences: 
My home is now in Texas, but I 
spent my boyhood days in Sequachee 
Valley, twenty-five miles north of 
Chattanooga, Tennessee. 
One June day a cousin and myself 
planned to pick huckleberries in the 
Cumberland mountains, a distanec of 
about six miles. After getting our 
buckets and a day’s food supply ready, 
we started hiking across the valley at 
about four o’clock in the afternoon. 
After winding our trail up the steep 
trail of the mountainside, and taking 
several needed rests, we finally 
reached the summit as the sun was 
sinking behind the hills. It gave us 
quite a bit of pleasure to look back 
into the valley from our new location. 
After parking ourselves on a nice 
smooth rock for a while we started 
again. We soon came upon a little 
cabin that had been used by loggers, 
but was vacant at this time. After 
making a thorough examination of the 
cabin inside and out, we felt sure there 
were no rattlers making their home 
there. We drew straws as to who 
would cut the wood, and of course I 
got the wood-cutting straw. 
My cousin was a real sport, how- 
ever, so he took it upon himself to 
bring in plenty of pure sparkling 
mountain water. After enjoying a 
good supper we retired and had a good 
night’s rest. The next morning we 
started for the huckleberries. The 
berries were plentiful and we were 
getting our buckets full quicker than 
we had expected. After having picked 
all the berries in one place I was mak- 
ing a change and, as I was approach- 
ing another cluster of bushes, a rat- 
tling in the leaves drew my attention. 
Looking down I saw a big rattler and, 
judging from his attitude, he seemed 
to own that patch of bushes. I hap- 
pened to have an old pistol with me 
and about all it did was make a noise. 
I took two or three shots at his head 
but missed. I threw the old pistol 
down and picked up a stick and soon 
put the snake out of business. The 
next thing was to skin him, so I tied 
a string around his neck, then around 
a limb and soon relieved him from his 
outer covering. I still have the skin 
as a souvenir. This being done, we 
finished filling our buckets with ber- 
ries and we spent another night in the 
cabin. The next morning we started 
home, feeling big, as most anybody. 
J. FRANK JOHNSON, 
Wellington, Texas. 
In writing to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. 

WHY BILL MUST COOK 
IRE up, Uncle Bill! Takea 
lookattherabbitsandyou'll 
see that to-day it’s your turn to 
be cook.” 
‘‘Mebbe it is, but look out for 
what happens to-morrow. You 
were bright enough to shoot 
all my shells, but I’ve got ina 
He case loaded with Infal- 
ible. 
Write for free copies of our 
publications, The Shooter’s 
Guide, Field and Trap Shoot- 
ing and A Talk About Sport- 
ing Powders. 
Hercules Powder Company 
906 King Street 
Wilmington Delaware 
Look for the regis- 
tered name ‘‘King’’ 
inside the boat. 
KING=<BOATS 
















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679 
