THE GULF COAST OF FLORIDA. 207 



"lightard," as the "crackers" call it, put it into a coffee- 

 sack and loaded Will's double-barrel shot-gun with buck-shot. 

 By this time supper was ready. We ate as quickly as possi- 

 ble, for it was now dusk. 



We built a fire with our light-wood in the pan, which was 

 attached to a pole about six feet long. Will shouldered this 

 and his gun, while I shouldered the bag of light-wood and 

 took charge of the dog. In this order we moved out. 



As we passed through the gate at the outer edge of the 

 farm and entered the heavy pine-woods the scene became 

 weird and impressive in the extreme. The fat-pine fire in 

 our pan flamed up, throwing a brilliant and glaring light 

 among the tall pines to a distance of a hundred yards or 

 more. The shadows of the trees reached away into the' mid- 

 night darkness, moving as we moved and standing still when 

 we stood still. When we stopped to listen, as we frequently 

 did, the heavy silence was oppressive. It was, however, 

 occasionally broken by the hooting or awkward flapping 

 through the trees of some great owl who had been bewildered 

 by the sudden appearance of our light. Occasionally as we 

 passed a slough, a night-heron would fly squawking over our 

 heads, apparently anxious to divine the nature and cause of 

 this mysterious illumination. Dozens of jacksnipes arose at 

 our feet as we passed through the marshes and uttering their 

 familiar "scape, scape," flitted away into the darkness. 

 Then again as we came near a bay-head or thicket we occa- 

 sionally heard the well-known "whistle" of a deer some 

 wily old buck, perhaps, who had been " fire-hunted " before, 

 who was, therefore, unwilling to stand until our light came 

 near enough to assume its wonted mesmeric influence over 

 him,' and who bounded away before we came near enough to . 

 "shine his eyes." 



Finally we reached North creek. We followed up its 



