GATHERING BIRDS’ EGGS IN FLORIDA 163 
boat, but when the Captain saw the dogs he laughed 
and said, ‘‘We’ll have plenty of venison this trip, if 
we don’t find any birds’ eggs.”’ 
We sailed south on Mosquito Lagoon until we reached 
the ‘‘Haulover,”’ a narrow canal that led into Indian 
River. It was just wide enough for our craft to pass. 
Here I discovered that our supply of tobacco, fish lines, 
and hooks had been forgotten or left behind. 
Stopping at Sands Point we strolled over to the little 
store. 
‘‘What have you in the way of tobacco?”’ I asked. 
“Tobacco? I carry the best in the world,” he an- 
swered, pointing to some square pound packages of old 
style ‘“Gamecock.”’ 
We took all he had—it was Hobson’s choice. There 
was no other store and no other tobacco. The tobacco 
we discovered later had one good point, the smoke 
drove away mosquitoes. 
‘‘Where is your stock of fish lines and hooks?”’ the 
Captain asked. 
‘‘Bish lines and hooks! Well, that’s the first time I 
ever had anyone ask for such things,’”’ replied the chap 
behind the counter. ‘‘I’ve never kept them in stock. 
It’s more trouble for the ordinary everyday local fisher- 
man to get bait, than it is to catch fish. Everyone 
around here uses cast nets. Don’t you need any fine 
groceries?’’ he added. 
‘‘What grocery supplies have you?”’ I asked. 
‘‘Bacon, cornmeal, and the best coffee you ever drank 
and only twenty-five cents a pound.’’ We purchased 
some bacon and cornmeal, but had to go without the 
fishing tackle. 
Our fishing apparatus consisted of a four-pronged 
fish spear and a leaded cast net. We speared a thirty 
