Morris Tribune

A RATTLESNAKE'S SPRING.

Narrow Escape in the Blue Ridge—Going to Bed with a Rattler in a Mountaineer's Cabin.

"You may talk about your Catskill," said a man on the hotel piazza last night, "but did you ever in your life see anything more beautiful than that?" and he pointed to the billowy ranges of the Blue Ridge mountains, whose tops were losing themselves in the soft misty hue of twilight. "I tell you" he continued, "there are no more beautiful mountains in this country than these Virginia peaks. There is only one thing I got against them—they are just jam full of snakes."

"So I have heard, but it has never been my fortune to meet with any face to face"

"You can thank your lucky stars, then," said the man who was a drummer for a Baltimore firm. "I first met one face to face in the most unpleasant manner a few nights ago. I had occasion to take quite a trip on horseback—you know everybody rides on horseback in these parts—and after trotting along for two or three hours, I struck up into the mountain. The sun was slowly sinking, casting its beautiful lights and shades, with all their delicate witchery, over the surrounding landscape. It was beautiful, and I gazed, enchanted, upon a scene which I cannot describe.

Arousing myself from my reverie, I was warned by the deepening shadows to hasten on. I had chosen a path which was little more than a bridle path, and each step the way becoming more rough and rugged. Over broken rocks and fallen trees I pursued my way with great difficulty. As the shadows deepened and objects became less discernible my horse began to manifest unmistakable signs of fear and uneasiness, shying at times so violently as to almost throw me from the saddle.

"At last, to my great satisfaction, I distinguished the sounds of human voices. Pushing on in the direction from which they proceeded, I came upon a group of men standing in front of a rude log cabin. They were rough mountaineers, and made a living by distilling whiskey. Riding up, I enquired the distance to my place of destination. It was several miles further on. I was not acquainted with the way. It would have been dangerous for me to have kept on, and I asked if I could be accommodated for the night. 'Get down, stranger: get down,' was the ready response. 'We haven't much in the wild country, but what we have is at your service.'"

I was pretty stiff after my long ride, and gladly dismounted. As I jumped from my horse I saw upon the ground at their feet what, upon examination, proved to be a large snake. It was a moccasin, six feet long, and an ugly looking customer. My exclamation of alarm drew from one of the men the remark that the snake had been dispatched but a few moments before my arrival.

'We had a pretty hard job of it,' he said, 'but we fixed him at last. We don't care much for them, but the fact is, when we do spot a big snake close by, we don't choose to have him loafing about the place too familiarly, you know, for he might snap up some one of us when we were not thinking of it, so we settle him at once.'"

"How do you do it?' I asked.

"Well, when he is a fine old rattler we try to secure him without breaking his hide. We draw his attention by putting something on the end of a pole on which is also a snare, and when the old fellow pops up his head from behind the log we just drop the snare over him, and one of us runs up, and catches him by the neck and puts a spike through his head. That is, when we catch them to stuff for your museums. Oh, there are lots of them about here, lots of them. We have several fine old fellows on hand now."

I listened in silence. Not a very inviting prospect for a night's lodging, I thought, as I stood debating in my mind the advisability of moving on in spite of the darkness and rough roads. A summons from the cabin to supper decided me, however. The cool mountain air had proved a keen appetizer, and I thoroughly enjoyed the plain but substantial meal of corn bread and bacon. Supper over, we repaired again to the front of the cabin.

A feeling of exhilaration came over me—a feeling which a man can only experience by going into the very heart of the mountain. The moon had risen, and around and above me the trees nodded in a flood of silver light. Picturesque and beautiful beyond description was the scene, banishing from my mind all disagreeable or unpleasant thoughts. Each rock and crag and bush seemed under the mystical light to become transformed into something lovely and fairylike.

"But even the loveliness of the night could not dispel the weariness which was gradually stealing over me nor tempt me longer to remain; so, accompanied by my host, I was shown my quarters. It was a little, low room, seeming to be off from the main building. Through the chinks on the logs came the moonlight in little patches. The window, a small port-hole concern, built right up against the mountain, and beneath it huge rock and underbrush. As I stood in the dismal comfortless room, I confess to a feeling of great nervousness: I did not like the looks of things at all. Back to my mind flashed the stories of the evening, I was conscious for the first time in my life of being mutually afraid. I got about my preparations for the night with as good a stock of courage as I could summon to my aid, making a careful survey of the room and filling up the chinks as best I could. Hardly had I finished ere my candle flickered, sputtered spitefully and went out.

I sought my straw bed, placed my revolver under my coat and settled myself to try to sleep. But sleep I could not. After passing what seemed hours of wakefulness, extreme weariness and the low wind soughing through the pines threw me at last into a restless, uneasy slumber, in which my dreams were filled with frightful visions. From one more horrible than the rest, I awoke with a start. From the foot of the bed came a harsh grating sound. What could it be? I tried to assure myself that the sound held no significance for me, but instinctively I felt a horrible sensation of something near—dangerously near. I raised myself up, only to sink back with a low cry of horror. The moonlight, streaming into my window, revealed to me my situation. There, at the side of the bed, slowly coiling itself for a spring, was a huge snake. I quickly felt for my revolver. It was gone. The agony of the moment was beyond all words. I tried to jump to my feet. At that moment the snake sprang toward me, just grazing my shoulder and falling with a heavy thud on the other side of me. With one bound I reached the door, and with a wild cry of alarm aroused the inmates. Almost instantly all hands were on the spot. They found his snake-ship just retiring through one of the holes between the logs. He was soon disposed of, and proved to be a rattlesnake.

A search was made for my revolver. It was found to have slipped from beneath my coat to the floor, probably while I was asleep. Sleep came to my eyes no more that night. No sooner had the gray dawn appeared than I mounted my horse and left the cabin with a feeling of great relief."

—[Front Royal Correspondent Philadelphia Press.