grass furnishes them a livelihood. These hardy
little animals are called "Marsh Tackies," and are found at intervals
along the beaches down to the sea-islands of the Carolinas. They hold at
Chincoteague an annual fair, to which all the "pony-penners," as they
are called, bring their surplus animals to sell. The average price is
about ninety dollars for a good beast, though some have sold for two
hundred and fifty dollars. All these horses are sold in a semi-wild and
unbroken state.

The following morning Mr. J. L. Caulk, ex-collector of the oyster port,
and about fifty persons, escorted me to the landing, and sent me away
with a hearty "Good luck to ye."

It was three miles and three quarters to the southern end of the island,
which has an inlet from the ocean upon each side of that end--the
northern one being Assateague, the southern one Chincoteague Inlet.
Fortunately, I crossed the latter in smooth water to Ballast Narrows in
the marshes, and soon reached Four Mouths, where I found _five_ mouths
of thoroughfares, and became perplexed, for had not the pilots of
Chincoteague called this interesting display of mouths "Four Mouths"? I
clung to the authority of local knowledge, however, and was soon in a
labyrinth of creeks which ended in the marshes near the beach.

Returning over the course, I once more faced the four, or _five_ mouths
rather, and taking a new departure by entering the next mouth to the one
I had so unsatisfactorily explored, soon entered Rogue's Bay, across
which could be seen the entrance to Cat Creek, where I was to experience
the difficulties predicted by my Chincoteague friends. Cat Creek
furnished at half tide sufficient water for my canoe, and not the
slightest difficulty was experienced in getting through it. The
oystermen had in their minds their own sloop-rigged oyster-boats when
they discoursed to me about the hard passage of Cat Creek. They had not
considered the fact that my craft drew only five inches of water.

Cat Creek took me quite down to the beach, where, through an inlet, the
dark-blue ocean, sparkling in its white caps, came pleasantly into view.
Another inlet was to be crossed, and again I was favored with smooth
water. This was Assawaman Inlet, which divided the beach into two
islands--Wallops on the north, and Assawaman on the south.

It seemed a singular fact that the two Assawaman bays are forty-five
miles to the north of an inlet of the same name. In following the creeks