THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



gathered pompano shells of delicate texture and 

 more colors than Joseph's coat. We followed the 

 fresh trail of the panama to its lair and shouted 

 in triumph at sight of a Voluta Junonia, taking 

 it back when we found the specimen defective. 

 We chased the ghost-like, translucent sandcrab 

 to his hole and collected sea-urchins and sponges. 

 Bits of long-buried wrecks were exhumed and 

 dragged to our fire, where they gave out jets of 

 green flame from the copper salts in the ancient 

 hulk. A young palmetto, or cabbage palm, was 

 sacrificed for its bud and we ate the bread of 

 the Cracker. 



We sat late around our camp-fire that night 

 and slept near it in cheese-cloth bars that served 

 well as tents while letting in air and keeping out 

 insects. Behind us was a jungle and before us 

 an open beach up which the foamy water 

 swished, following the breaking of the slow-mov- 

 ing rollers beyond. I was awakened at dawn by 

 a shout from Joe who said a panther was swim- 

 ming in the pass nearby. I caught sight of the 

 beast as it entered the woods on the farther side 

 and then listened to the story of the excited boy 

 who was awakened by the soft footfall of the 



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