THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



iliar. We passed the point from which we 

 should have seen the lime and lemon trees that 

 surrounded the old camp, but everything familiar 

 had disappeared. Before us was a jungle sur- 

 rounded by a tall canebrake without an opening 

 big enough to give passage to a wildcat. 



"Somebody has stolen our camp!" said I to 

 the Camera-man. "It used to be here, but it's 

 gone." 



"It used to be here and it is here now," was 

 the reply. "Things grow fast in this country 

 and that jungle has sprung up since we camped 

 among the lime trees three years ago. Let's 

 tackle the canebrake and see what is behind it 



now." 



We hacked at the canes and jammed them 

 aside, making a path through which we dragged 

 the canoe until we reached a bank that we knew. 

 A few more yards through a tangle of tall weeds 

 over land that was high and dry brought us to 

 the little group of citrus trees beside which were 

 the charred sticks radiating from the point where 

 in Indian fashion, three years before, we had 

 built our camp-fire. From these sticks we built 

 a new fire and over its coals broiled an Indian 



176 



