The Dillon herald. [volume] (Dillon, S.C.) 1894-????, 1910-03-24

tion of Louisiana stretching from the
last reaches Of the Mississippi to Bar
ataria Bay, you will have in mind one
of the loneliest and least-known re-
gions Of the country. Uninhabited,
traversed by few save creole trappers
and an occasional deer-hunter, it is a
dying land, for since the levees Of the
great river have been made so secure
that little fresh water finds its way
from the fringe of plantations on the
channel, the salt tides of the Gulf
have slowly killed the forests and the
semi-tropical vegetation. On the
Gulf side of every spur Of woods fac
ing the vast salt marshes mournful
stretches of dead and dying cypress,
oak, gum, palmettos and mangrovc
linger, struggling against the brack-
ish overflows. In the marshes, and
In the forest tracts still holding their
own, multitude Of bird and animal
life lightens the soiitudes, and it was
on an expedition to secure pictures of
the fast-vanishing snowy herons that
friend of mine met a ludicrous vet
serious adventure.
He put out from Barataria with q
character We both knew well, a vet
eTan of the ConfeGeracy, known as
"Old Man Captain Fowb" Jones'
one of the gentlest, cheeriest souls
imaginable - trapper. fisher, log
"drifter," whose whole possessions
since the war would not have brought
twenty dollars, but who had a wealth
of time, energy and philosophy for
every friend or stranger who came to
his shack.
Allen, the photographer, easily en-
listed Old Man Captain Fowb to go
picture-taking. He was ever ready
to start at an hours notice on any
sort of adventure, whether paid for
his time or not. Captain Fowb only
stipulated that they should take
along "Ponto," his spike-tailed
pointer pup. as useless a dog in that
watery land as could be imagined.
With tent, a weeks provisions, and
cask OF cistern water-for none
can be had in the salt marshes-the
two went up Bayou Dupont in the old
soldiers flat-bottomed bateau, or
"John-boat," towing running"
piroSue. Two days of slow travel
and many attempts at bird photogra-
ply had not given Allen much salts
faction, but the third day they came
on the palmetto hut of two creole
alligator-hunters, who directed the
picture man into an arm Of the
woods, where he was highly success
fl
he came back to camp one night,
til ed but happy, to find his partner
with great tail. Old Man Captain
Fowb had seen the biggest alligator
in Louisiana. Fourteen feet if he's
an inch, and tonight we'll go with
the creoles and get him."
Allen was incredulous of the "ga-
tors size, but when Captain Fowb
padded him up to the run in the salt
grass, the trail showed a very large
one. But Allen demurred about let
ting the alligator-hunters use their
fambeau and buckshot-charged shot
gun, which is the creole method of
night-stalking the gator.
Captain, his hide would not bring
those fellows three dollars, but alive
he's worth two hundred to you. Let's
catch him-the museums are always
looking for big gators" Two hun
dred dollars was bigger sum than
tfe captain could earn in a year, and
uid indeed be fortune; while the
aoies were prosperous and lusty
I ows. So the young man argued,
~tapally he persuaded the old man
Z T,,mpt to snare the big gator.
20 evenings Captain Fowb waited
"a lie run thro'' "h the salt grass and
mangrove scr, ith rope snare and
Doat-hook;HI! II was on the third,
when the photographer was with
him, that they discovered the big ga
tor In the grass, and far from the
bayou.
Old Man Jones had trapped many
gators; he charged the saurian and
noosed him about the lower Jaw. and
then, after lively fight, they got a
line about his neck and middle and
threw him on his back. They tied
his feet and forced a block of wood
into the gators Jaws.
Twelve feet, at least!" cried AL
len, as he looked down at the yellow
mottled reptile. Captain, when we
get him to New Orleans and sold. you
won't have to work for a year.''
But the genial old man protested.
IT was not his gator, but Mr.. Aliens,
and he would share up. Allen
laughed, and they set about gettins