y the
interposition of a small party of Washoes, our own guide being of the
number. The struggle was chiefly in the water, the Pol-i-wog being
better able to swim than the mermaid was to walk. Still, as occasion
required, a round or two took place on the gravelly beach. Never did old
Spain and England engage in fiercer conflict for the dominion of the
seas, than now occurred between Pol-i-wog and Merman for the mastery of
the lake. Each fought, as the Roman fought, for Empire. The Pol-i-wog,
like the last of the Mohicans, had seen his tribe melt away, until he
stood, like some solitary column at Persepolis, the sole monument of a
once gorgeous temple. The water chieftain also felt that upon his arm,
or rather tail, everything that made life desirable was staked. Above
all, the trident of his native sea was involved.

The weapons of the Pol-i-wog were his teeth and his hind legs. Those of
the Merman were all concentrated in the flop of his scaly tail. With the
energy of a dying alligator, he would encircle, with one tremendous
effort, the bruised body of the Pol-i-wog, and floor him beautifully on
the beach. Recovering almost instantly, the Pol-i-wog would seize the
Merman by the long black hair, kick him in the region of the stomach,
and grapple his windpipe between his bony jaws, as the mastiff does the
infuriated bull.

Finally, after a great many unsuccessful attempts to drag the Pol-i-wog
into deep water, the mermaid was seized by her long locks and suddenly
jerked out upon the beach in a very battered condition. At this moment,
the Washoes with a yell rushed toward the combatants, but the Pol-i-wog
seeing death before him upon water and land equally, preferred the
embraces of the water nymphs to the stomachs of the landsmen, and
rolling over rapidly was soon borne off into unfathomable depths by the
triumphant Merman.

Such was the story of Juan. It resembled the condition of the ancient
Britons, who, being crowded by the Romans from the sea, and attacked by
the Picts from the interior, lamented their fate as the most unfortunate
of men. "The Romans," they said, "drive us into the land; there we are
met by the Picts, who in turn drive us into the sea. We must perish in
either event. Those whom enemies spare, the waves devour."

Our first step was to prepare a chinquapin whistle. The flute was easily
manufactured by Juan himself, thuswise: He cut a twig about eighteen
inches in length, and not more than half an