The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 132, March, 1909

by Various

The Wide World Magazine.

No. 132. Vol. XXII. MARCH, 1909.

SHORT STORIES.

A further instalment of a budget of breezy little narratives—exciting, humorous, and curious—hailing from all parts of the world. This month's collection deals with a thrilling fight between a jaguar and a boa-constrictor, the tragic fate of a Canadian cowboy, and a night adventure in Japan.

HOW I GOT MY JAGUAR-SKIN.

By Dr. T. A. Stoddard.

IN the month of November, 1907, I arrived at the Isthmus of Panama to do some zoological work, and incidentally to get a better knowledge of the geography of the infant republic. I landed at Colon, a dirty, dingy town of about eight thousand inhabitants, built on a low, swampy island separated from the mainland by a narrow but deep lagoon. Here I secured the services of two Spaniards to act as carriers, and, going by boat some ten miles up the coast, disembarked in a drenching rain near the mouth of the Santa Rita River.

I carried a small supply of tinned and tabloid foods, and these we packed through the jungle to the highest point of the Santa Rita mountains, a distance of ten miles. We made a very comfortable camp, and after a hearty meal turned in for the night.

I slept very little, tired though I was, being kept awake by the howlings of jaguars, cougars, and bobcats. However, after a hasty breakfast in the early morning, I started out alone with my Winchester strapped on my back and carrying a single-barrelled sixteen-gauge shot-gun in my hand. I also carried a short but sharp and heavy machete, without which it is impossible to travel in this impenetrable jungle of mahogany, cedar, yellow-wood, and palms of various kinds, all supporting vines of every size and character. Some of these vines hang from a height of seventy-five feet, touching the ground and sending out tendrils which climb to unknown heights on other trees, thus forming a most intricate network, through which it is impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

THE AUTHOR, DR. T. A. STODDARD, WHO WAS AN EYE-WITNESS OF A TERRIFIC FIGHT BETWEEN A JAGUAR AND A BOA-CONSTRICTOR, OF WHICH HE HERE GIVES A GRAPHIC ACCOUNT, AND ALSO OF HIS OWN ENCOUNTER WITH A SECOND HUGE SNAKE.
From a Photograph.

I had been travelling for about an hour, trying to locate the source of the Santa Rita, and winning every inch of ground by hacking and slashing with the machete, when I was startled by a most fearful scream, which seemed to come from somewhere immediately behind me. To say that my blood "froze in my veins," even in this tropical climate, would be but a poor and inadequate figure of speech to describe my feelings. I had heard of the treachery of the San Blas Indians who inhabit the country to the eastward, and my first thought was of them. Turning round and looking back anxiously over the trail I had just made, I saw a great commotion taking place among the vines, dead leaves, and decaying branches which carpeted the ground, and the blood-curdling screams I had heard rang out again and again. For what seemed hours to me, but were really only seconds, I could not comprehend what was transpiring so close to me, and what kind of creature was giving utterance to such agonizing cries. At length, however, venturing a little nearer, I discovered it to be a "tiger," or, properly speaking, a jaguar or American leopard, and it was writhing in the coils of an enormous boa-constrictor. The great snake appeared to have the side of the jaguar's head in its mouth, and a coil or two of its body around the neck of the beast, which was making frantic efforts to regain its liberty. The snake had its tail coiled round a small ebony tree about a foot in diameter, and whenever the hapless jaguar relaxed its efforts the serpent would swiftly release itself from the tree and make an attempt to get another coil around the body of its opponent.

I stood there fascinated with horror, and yet forgetting my fear in the interest I was taking in this terrible fight between beast and reptile. Presently the snake, with an incomprehensibly quick movement—in fact, almost too quick for the eye to follow—succeeded in getting two more coils around the body of the jaguar, but not without receiving several severe lacerations from the formidable claws of its victim. Then letting go the jaguar's head, where it seemed to have a firm hold, the boa-constrictor raised its head, seemingly in triumph, and, with its tail still wrapped round the tree, lifted the body of the jaguar up in the air. I heard the bones crack under the fearful strain, and with one awful, despairing scream the jaguar fell back—dead!

During all this time I stood rooted to the spot, too spellbound to stir. Now, however, I realized that I stood in considerable danger, for other constrictors might be near, who would treat me in the same manner as this one had treated the unfortunate jaguar. Taking a hasty look around I saw nothing but trees and hanging vines in all directions. I then decided that I wanted the jaguar as much as the snake did, and, moreover, that I wanted to kill the snake. I had a charge of small shot in the gun which I carried in my hand, and, withdrawing this, I replaced it with a cartridge containing B.B. shot. By this time the serpent had uncoiled himself from his dead victim and also from the tree, and seemed to be dressing his wounds, for he was rubbing his nose, if a snake can be said to have such an organ, over the lacerations caused by the claws of the jaguar. Raising my gun and taking deliberate aim, I was about to shoot the reptile through the head, when I detected a slight rustling from the direction in which I had been travelling. Turning round suddenly, I peered through the hanging vines and leaves of the jungle, but could see nothing. Then, wiping the perspiration from my forehead and out of my eyes, I looked again carefully, but could not see anything animate.

A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE SKIN OF THE JAGUAR KILLED BY THE BOA-CONSTRICTOR.

I was about to wheel again to secure my snake when I noticed that one of the vines was swinging as if disturbed by the wind. Looking up, I saw that not a leaf was stirring on the trees; there was no breeze whatever. I thought this somewhat strange, and decided to investigate more closely. So, taking my machete out of the sheath, I leaned the gun against a tree and started cutting my way towards the swinging vine. I had taken but a few steps when the vine swung rapidly towards me. Then, to my intense horror, I discovered it to be another boa-constrictor, hanging from the bough of a mahogany tree, its mouth wide open.

Instinctively I screamed, ducked, and slashed savagely at it with my machete. I drew some blood from its neck, but almost before I could recover myself the creature swung viciously towards me again. I repeated my first performance, not forgetting the yell, for I was far too frightened to run. This time, however, I succeeded much better with the machete, for I inflicted a severe wound over the reptile's eye.

Again it retreated and again swung towards me, and thus we fought, I succeeding at each swing in doing my adversary some damage. Once it struck me on the left shoulder with the point of its lower jaw, sending me reeling to the ground. Wildly I sprang to my feet and dashed with renewed vigour into the struggle, cutting, slashing, and screaming continually, without presence of mind enough to run or think of my gun. Finally, in maddened desperation, I made a frantic slash as the horrible thing was swinging towards me, and by the merest good fortune caught it fairly behind the head with the sharpest and broadest part of the machete, almost severing its head from its body. Its tail uncoiled from the limb above and its sinuous body fell with a crash to the ground. A second later there was another fall—myself. I lay there trembling with weakness, fully conscious, but dripping with perspiration and too much exhausted to stand.

After some time I remembered the jaguar and the live snake which lay but a few yards away, and at once sprang to my feet, caught up my gun, and turned to investigate. I speedily discovered the reason for the snake's quiescence. The jaguar was rapidly disappearing down the capacious throat of his successful enemy. Again I took careful aim, and put the whole load of large shot fairly through the body of the snake about two feet from its head and about two inches from the nose of the jaguar, which was being swallowed whole. Having killed the snake, I secured the skin of the jaguar, which measured from tip of tail to nose nine feet four inches; it was a male, and beautifully marked. The constrictor that killed the jaguar measured twenty-nine feet two inches in length and twenty-eight inches round at the largest part. The one with which I had the encounter was twenty-five feet long and twenty-two inches round.

I reached camp about noon, covered with blood, but proudly carrying my jaguar-skin, and just for fun I informed the Spaniards that I had killed the animal with my ·22. They examined the skin for the bullet-hole, but failed to find it. Thereupon I calmly told them that I always shot animals like that in the eye, so as not to spoil the skin! They now think the "Gringo" a mighty hunter indeed.

OUT OF THE SKIES.

Told by Lionel Beakbane and Set Down by L. H. Brennan.

In 1907 I was employed as a cowboy on the Wally Ranch, situated a little to the north of Fort Saskatchewan, in Alberta, Canada. It was there that an incident occurred which I shall never forget as long as I live. Such a thing has never happened before in Canada, so far as I am aware, and I hope it will never happen again.

During the particular week I have in mind we had a pretty rough time of it and were all more or less tired out, but we had to keep going. There had been some heavy storms and the cattle were unusually restive, needing a lot of attention. One Thursday, about two in the morning, we were seated round the camp fire getting something to eat. There were five of us there, amongst us a comparative new-comer named Harry Munroe. He was a splendid young fellow, and took to the work from the first. He was a capital rider and a first-class shot. I had always liked him, and used to take him with me to outlying posts on every possible occasion. On this particular night we had a mob of about two thousand five hundred head of cattle to look after. The weather outlook had been very threatening for a long time. Great clouds rolled one after the other across the face of the moon, and presently the latter disappeared behind them altogether. The next moment, without warning, the storm burst upon us. In an instant we were on our horses, everyone ready for action, for each man of us knew that at the first flash of lightning the cattle would stampede. Only those who have experienced the spectacle of a thunderstorm on the American prairies can have any idea of its grandeur. It is a magnificent display of Nature's powers for a human being who can understand and appreciate it, but a terrifying thing indeed for a herd of helpless beasts.

I thought it best to take young Munroe along with me, as he was not experienced enough in following a stampede to go alone. The three others were old hands and needed no directions. Very often the cattle will suddenly turn right about without any warning, and it needs an experienced and cool-headed man to keep his saddle and save his life when such a thing occurs.

We had not long to wait—only a few seconds—and then our work began. A flash of baleful light zigzagged across the skies, and the terror-stricken beasts rushed off headlong into the night. It was an appalling sight to see the fear-maddened brutes racing over the prairie. Heads upraised, mouths open, and tails lashing the air, they neither knew nor cared where they were going. Sometimes one would stumble and fall, only to be immediately trodden under foot by his comrades, and the thudding of their feet could be heard as a dull rumble in the lulls of the storm.

On and on they went in their mad career, horses and men close behind them. We could do nothing but follow them and, when the storm abated, collect them and drive them back to the station. The rain came down in torrents and the lightning almost blinded one, so vivid and terrific were the flashes, while the claps of thunder which followed seemed to shake the earth. We had been going at a tremendous pace for perhaps ten minutes, when a small range of hills loomed up in front. I knew what would happen when the cattle reached this, and was of course prepared. I yelled out to Munroe to keep close to me, so as to follow my instructions.

"The beasts will stop at these hills and either wheel round or else turn off to the right or left," I shouted.

Suddenly the whole herd stopped and, sniffing the air for a moment, seemed undetermined what course to take. At that critical moment an awful flash of lightning rent the air, completely blinding me for a moment, and simultaneously I heard a terrific report immediately behind me. These two occurrences decided the cattle, and they turned and went pell-mell along the foot of the hills to the right. For the moment I scarcely knew what had happened, but as the last of the herd disappeared I turned round and called to young Munroe. "Are you there, Harry?" I cried, but I got no answer. Again and again I shouted, riding a little distance after every shout, but no answering hail reached me. I knew Munroe would not follow the herd without me, and at length I came to the conclusion that something must be amiss with him. Perhaps his horse had stumbled and thrown him, or he had been caught and overwhelmed by the passing herd. There was nothing to be done, however, but to wait for the daylight; I dare not move in the pitch blackness for fear of trampling upon him.

Already drenched to the skin, and with the rain still pouring down in torrents, the lightning and the deafening peals of thunder combined to make that night the most miserable of my existence. I had to keep on the look-out, too, for any signs of the cattle, as they might easily, from some cause or another, return along the base of the hills.

They did not appear, however, and so I kept my watch through that awful night alone. I do not know how long the storm lasted, but it must have been two or three hours at least.

LIONEL BEAKBANE, THE COWBOY WHO HERE TELLS THE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE FATE THAT BEFELL HIS COMPANION ON THE PRAIRIE DURING AN APPALLING THUNDERSTORM.
From a Photograph.

At last, to my infinite relief, the dawn arrived, and I looked round anxiously for some signs of Harry Munroe. I had not gone far when, at a short distance, I discerned the figures of poor Harry and his horse, lying motionless on the ground. Leaving my own horse I ran towards them. It was apparent, long before I reached them, that both man and horse were dead.

"THE LIGHTNING HAD STRUCK MUNROE'S CARTRIDGE-BELT, KILLING MAN AND HORSE ON THE SPOT."

"Good heavens!" I involuntarily exclaimed, as I came nearer. "What has happened?" Then, suddenly, I realized the awful thing that had occurred. The lightning had struck Munroe's cartridge-belt, exploding the whole of the cartridges simultaneously, and killing man and horse on the spot. Poor Munroe! It was a terrible end; the only consolation was that it must have been instantaneous.

Shocked and saddened by this awful calamity I stayed by my dead friend, for I knew the boys would soon be coming to seek us. Then, a very quiet procession, we bore our poor comrade's body off to the ranch for burial.