The Nueces River is so called from the immense quantities of pecan trees which line both banks from the head to the mouth, making delightful shade to camp under and a great feeding-ground for wild turkeys. The nut is something like a walnut, though about half the size. The wild turkey is probably the wildest thing to be found in the United States. I only killed three during my eight years in Texas, one with my revolver by a fluke shot, and two sitting roosting at night. Years ago they were in thousands both on the Nueces River and on Turkey Creek (the creek that ran through the mines)—were in fact so plentiful that Pinchot, who used to have a rest-house on the California trail that ran through Cline, told me he only used to bring home the breasts of the birds he killed to feed his guests. They were so plentiful on the market in San Antonio that people got tired of them and would pay a higher price for tame turkeys. A gentleman in San Antonio once asked his nigger to go out and buy him a tame turkey. “Now,” he said, "don’t you try and palm off any wild turkey on me." The man swore that he would not, and that evening the turkey arrived. When eating it the next day, the gentleman came across some shot in the turkey’s breast. He sent for the negro and said, “Sam, you promised you would not try and cheat me, but would bring me a tame turkey, and here I find shot in it.” "’Deed, Boss," the man replied, "dat war a tame turkey all right, but de fact is, I’se goin’ to tell you in confidence, dat dem shot war intended for me." This wholesale slaughter has made the turkey like the buffalo—very scarce where once they were to be found in thousands. One hears a good deal about lynching, but of course it is not only negroes that get lynched. A few years ago it often happened that a town would get tired of one of its bad white men and take him out and hang him. But this is getting rarer and rarer, especially now when the law officers are starting prosecutions for manslaughter against every known member of a lynching mob. A few years ago, though, lynchings were very common. They tell a story about a lynching party riding up to a house, and the spokesman said, “Madam, we are sorry to report that we hanged your husband. We admit that we got the wrong man, so you sure have the laugh on us there.”