THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



above us with wings as motionless as those of a 

 monoplane, and without propellers in their tails. 



Fragrant myrtle and sweet bay flourished on 

 the banks, while from the shallow water sprang 

 big, twisted trunks of trees whose little branches 

 bore fat custard apples, luscious to the taste but 

 for its turpentine flavor. Near its head the river 

 was fed by grassy-bordered, lily-choked channels 

 of pure water. The river ended three miles from 

 the crooked creek by which we entered it and the 

 Irene followed a narrow stream scarcely more 

 than her width, while branches brushed her sides 

 until her nose ran into the bank and her bow was 

 thrust over the border of the Everglades. 



We saw before us a great flooded meadow, 

 through the grass of which we waded in water 

 that was half-knee deep. There were acres of 

 white pond lilies with all the beauty, but lacking 

 the fragrance of their sisters of the north. 

 It was dotted with tiny keys bearing tall palms, 

 fragrant and fruit bearing trees, and winding 

 throughout its expanse were clear streams of 

 limpid water flowing over the coral foundation 

 of the Everglades. 



170 



