The majority of those captured were small, averaging about three and a half feet long, and the activity of the Indians in detecting, seizing, and killing them was almost incredible. In most cases the snake was lying, straight or coiled as the case might be, in the tracks usually followed by small animals in their periodical path to the water, for rattlesnakes are singularly slow in their movement, and so are forced to rely more on their proverbial "wisdom." The moment one of them was discovered it was whisked off the ground so rapidly that it seemed to fly up; one deft jerk, or whip-like flick, dislocated its backbone and it was dead. To an Englishman the process sounds about as sane and as safe as lifting a bull-terrier by the tail; but the Indians did their work unmovedly, not a man was bitten, and Weld learned later that not once in ten years was such hunting attended with fatal results to anyone; for should a man be bitten a rough sort of cautery, or the sucking of the wound, together with drugs taken internally, generally gave the lie to the popular belief that a rattlesnake's bite is incurable. Where a captive was inconveniently large or long, or where he refused to uncoil himself, the savages used their sticks, either to rap him on the head, or to "straighten-out" his coils. The object in killing was to obtain the oil and gall, which were highly valued for medicinal and other virtues; therefore, any blow that might wound the body was avoided if possible. In Weld's opinion the "rattle" of the animal has been much exaggerated by travellers; "creaking" or "rustling" would be a better term, for the noise resembles that made by stiff paper, or parchment, when crumpled in the hand. A few days later, when travelling up-country by canoe, he realised that these snakes can swim with perfect ease, for the Ojibewa guides whom he had engaged more than once drew his attention to one of them gliding down the bank and into the water in determined pursuit of a rat that had refused to become a victim to its supposed (and very doubtful) powers of fascination. For the first time in his life, Mr. Weld now found himself completely cut off from association with white men, for he had before him a lonely journey by river and lake to a backwoods settlement, where an old friend, Major Strickland, had set up a model farm. Fortunately, one of the Ojibewas spoke English fluently, and the other three had at least a smattering of French. Perhaps they were not remarkable for their intelligence, save where canoeing and hunting were concerned, but at least they were amiable, obliging, and contented.