4'JU 



XATUHAL n/STOh'V 



After crossing the swamp another stretch of 

 sandy pine woods was traversed with diffi- 

 culty, as the combined power of the engine 

 and the pushing ability of the occupants of 

 the car were necessary to get through the 

 twelve miles of loose sand. Finally the 

 Onoshohatchee River and the first habita- 

 tion in about forty miles came into view. 

 We soon reached Okeechobee City— then a 

 settlement of several scores of houses. In 

 the fall of 1913 when we went up the 

 Onoshohatchee River from Lake Okeechobee 

 this place had been indicated on the map 

 and staked out by the surveyors, but had 

 not yet been colonized. 



At this point we again left civilization be- 

 hind. From Okeechobee City to Fisheating 

 Creek the country was devoid even of roads, 

 and we took to an old trail dating back 

 perhaps to a period before the Seminole 

 wars. By degrees Okeechobee City disap- 

 peared as we hurried around the curves, not 

 to say coils, in the trail, and after passing 

 some miles of pinelands we suddenly came 

 into the bottoms or prairies of the Kis- 

 simmee River. These bottom lands are like 

 immense lawns, perfectly level, carpeted 

 with a turf of various grasses, and often 

 extending as far as the eye can see. There 

 were thousands of semiwild cattle grazing 

 on the broad green prairies. 



All had gone well thus far, but at the 

 Kissimmee River a series of apparently pre- 

 destinated troubles began. The trails on 

 either side of the river were connected by 

 a ferry which consisted of a fiatboat large 

 enough to hold a car, and a small motor 

 boat of barely sufficient capacity to drag 

 the fiatboat around the bends and over the 

 sand bars in the river. In order to cross the 

 river, which there is less than a hundred 

 feet wide, it was necessary to go about a 

 half mile down stream because of the ero- 

 sion of the banks. Once in the stream the 

 current of the river — say, three miles an 

 hour — carried the ferryboat along at a 

 greater speed than the motor boat could 

 maintain. Time and again the ferryboat 

 would bump into the river banks, first on 

 one side, then on the other, and would, in 

 turn, bump against the stern of the little 

 motor boat and knock off the rudder. Even 

 after the ferryboat drifted out of sight, we 

 who were left behind for the second trip 

 could hear the ferryman nailing the rudder 

 on his disabled boat. 



We lost several hours of valuable day- 

 light while waiting for the ferryman to re- 

 place dead batteries with live ones. As the 

 slimt twilight deepened we ran up a slight 

 incline through a strip of pine woods, mak- 

 ing all haste compatible witii the innumer- 

 able curves in the trail and the proximity of 

 pine stumps, and found ourselves on the 

 great Indian Prairie. This comprises a 

 large part of an immense region lying west 

 of Lake Okeechobee, north of the Caloosa- 

 hatchee River, and east of Peace River. The 

 prairie is high and dry all the year round 

 and is uninterrupted, except by a single 

 stream, Fisheating Creek, one of the larger 

 feeders of Okeechobee. Up to a short time 

 ago it was practically uninhabited, except 

 by wandering Indians. At the present time 

 a half dozen or more " — ports," " — dales," 

 " — monts," " — burgs," and even "—Cities" 

 have been put on the map, and a railroad 

 bisects the region, — so, farewell to its natu- 

 ral features. 



In order to save time, we decided to cross 

 the prairie that night, and we certainly had 

 a weird ride. The trail at times was dis- 

 tinct, but at other times almost blind. Al- 

 though the prairie was a dead level, the 

 optical illusion created in the darkness was 

 that of running down hill and jumping off 

 the earth. We had some obstructions to 

 progress in the form of forks in the trail 

 which would, we knew, either come together 

 farther on or diverge indefinitely and thus 

 lead to some other part of the state. At 

 each fork, the four in our party would hold 

 a council, and in each instance consult the 

 stars. The stars always put us on the right 

 trail, and toward midnight, after passing 

 several half-discerned Indian camps, we saw 

 a few faint lights of human habitation ap- 

 pear, and finally we reached the recently 

 established colony of Palmdale on Fisheat- 

 ing Creek, or, in Seminole, "Thlathtopopka- 

 hatchee." 



We did not hesitate to disturb the peace- 

 ful slumbers of the inhabitants, who were as 

 glad to see us as we were to see them, which 

 fact they showed in a substantial manner by 

 arising from their slumbers and preparing 

 a midnight meal. After a few hours' rest 

 we made an early start for Labelle, which 

 is an old settlement situated at about the 

 head of natural navigation on the Caloosa- 

 hatchee River. 



The Indian Prairie extends nearly or quite 



