222 Naturalist at Large 



fast asleep. We dozed for perhaps an hour until we were 

 suddenly awakened by the crack of a gun. We sat up to see 

 the most surprised Seminole Indian any living man ever 

 beheld. He had shot our tethered hen. We asked him to 

 lunch, but he walked off in disgust. He made no move, 

 however, to indicate that he thought the bird was his. 



We never hesitated to camp and to leave our things lying 

 about if the spot we had chosen was near an Indian village 

 or one of their temporary encampments. Crackers would 

 sometimes steal, Indians never — at least, not in our experi- 

 ence. I inadvertently used the word "cracker" then. Every- 

 one knows that the native sons of Georgia and Florida are 

 called by this name, but it was not until I stumbled on 

 a simple statement in Bartram's Travels that I knew the 

 derivation of the term. The corn crackers are those people 

 who sincerely enjoy that delectable viand, grits and gravy; 

 for grits, you know, are made of cracked corn. 



My father- and mother-in-law frequently joined us in 

 our camp for the day. Mr. Dean Pierce was almost blind 

 but was able to fish with real enjoyment. Mrs. Pierce, the 

 loveliest mother-in-law any man ever had, would sit in a 

 Livingstone chair in a shady place and sew or knit and 

 enjoy the warmth and the spring songs of the birds. One 

 day Mr. Pierce, Frank, and I were fishing in the canal which 

 had just been made, running from West Palm Beach to 

 Canal Point on Lake Okeechobee. When the canal was 

 first dug and its banks had not begun to wash down, the 

 water was deep and the bass fishing excellent. 



One day I saw the corner of what I knew was an ele- 

 phant's tooth sticking out of the canal bank, just at water 

 level. I asked Frank to row over to it, and I dug the tooth 



