QUIET CRUISING 



cruising through a flooded forest and the 

 branches of trees swept everything movable from 

 deck and cabin, but a short half-mile brought us 

 to a river known then only to the refugees of the 

 swamps and a few, a very few, hunters and 

 trappers. It was a beautiful stream, from three 

 to four hundred feet wide, but the path of the 

 navigable channel was narrow and tortuous, 

 winding its way through masses of manatee 

 grass and fields of lily pads. Sometimes it so 

 nearly closed that the boat's propeller gathered 

 long streamers of grass and twisted them about 

 the shaft until the motor stopped and all hands, 

 by turns, went overboard to cut the fibers away. 

 Through six hours of work and slow progress 

 there was no minute without a new pleasure. 

 Beside us, as we entered the river, was a deep 

 pool which must have been a Tarpon Orphan 

 Asylum from the number of baby tarpon it con- 

 tained. By twos and threes at a time they leaped 

 above the surface, turning and twisting in some 

 joyous sport of their own. Upthrust through 

 every square yard of the floating grass was the 

 little round head with bright eyes that told of an 

 edible turtle beneath it. We tried to collect one 



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