MANITOU, Colo., June 6.—He was from Vermont and had not been long in Manitou before he succeeded in making many friends and acquaintances, most of whom regarded him as a first rate fellow in every respect. But there may be a few, who may be termed a mellow minority, who, by a different algebraic system, were well nigh sure that he was a tenderfoot. Yesterday the question was put to a test and settled for all time.
    “Say, Robinson,” began one of an invading party of six. “You are somewhat of a sport, ain’t you? but I'll wager the drinks you never caught a snow snake in your life.”
    “Snow snakes! Never so much as heard of them.”
    “Then you ought to make one of our party. We are going up the peak this evening to hunt up a few. You see the reptiles only come out at night, so we tackle the sport after dark.”
    Robinson expressed his approval and soon a thing resembling a barrel with both ends knocked out was secured and a gauzy substance extended across one of the extremities. A coal oil lamp was also brought into requisition and the joyous party set out after the novel sport. On the way up the hill the method of securing the reptiles was explained to Robinson.
    “You see this machine? Well, it is laid on the ground, so, the open end towards the top of the hill. At the other end we have the lamp, which sheds a soft light through the gauze, and it is thereby that the snakes are enchanted and immediately make for the barrel.”
    Robinson took in the modus operandi without a murmur, and gleefully thought of the glowing account he would send his Vermont pals of his snake hunting exploits. As he was not experienced in the matter of hunting out the snakes, he readily agreed to take up his post at the barrel holding the candle, while the rest of the party went up the hill and drove the animals downwards. Well, this was where the jokers got in their work, as sliding around the knob of the hill, they mounted their horses and rode headlong homeward. There was lots of fun at the Cliff house for everybody except poor Robinson, who, after standing sentinel with his barrel and candle for some three hours, concluded that snow snake hunting was not so much of a sport as he anticipated. He accordingly looked around for his trusty steed, and finding that it too had gone back on him, finally concluded to face the occasion like a man. He was very tired when he reached the hotel, and still more weary when his tormentors had completed a lively discussion about gauzy barrels and candles and such.

From— The Helena Independent. (Helena, Mont.), 07 June 1890. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.