THE GIRL'S DAT 



"Where is the china closet?" 



"In that palmetto scrub. You couldn't ask 

 for better plates than palmetto fans and I'll 

 make you some chop-sticks or forks, whichever 

 you prefer. If you eat fish with a knife, which 

 is the local custom, I can recommend some of 

 those thin, sharp shells." 



After the pompano had been eaten, to its ulti- 

 mate bone, the Camera-man launched the canoe 

 and the Girl was offered her choice of wading 

 through the surf, or being carried. Her choice 

 was the wise one and we resumed our course up 

 the coast. 



The waters of the Gulf are alive in summer, 

 filled with finny tribes that eat and are eaten. A 

 school of Spanish mackerel followed their prey 

 so near the canoe that we were spattered with 

 water from their leaps. Porpoises rolled slowly 

 at our side, sometimes lifting high their heads, 

 turning bright eyes upon us, and dashing away 

 in pretended alarm. Prudent pompano swam 

 well inshore and, knowing it was past the lunch 

 hour, avoided the canoe. Single pelicans, flying 

 heavily overhead, dropped clumsily, with 

 sprawling wings and legs, into the water near us. 



77 



