THE EVERGLADES 133 



holes, and once I lost my pack in the saw grass. 

 At last I made out the little scrubby growth, and 

 on entering I stumbled over Eaton's pack, but 

 though I called I got no reply. 



From a dead limb I shaved off some kindling 

 and soon had a fire started. Poor Soar, now very 

 weak, saw the light from a long way off and 

 headed slowly for it, and soon Eaton arrived with 

 a lightwood log that he had obtained from the 

 forest beyond. He said that the building of that 

 fire was the only sensible thing he ever knew me to 

 do. Soar finally arrived in dreadful condition 

 and he vomited most of the night. We were 

 camped on a small ragged rock which nowhere rose 

 more than a foot above the water and was full of 

 pot holes. Here we turned in for the night on the 

 most wretched bed I ever saw. Towards morning 

 we all slept but at dawn I got up to stretch my 

 cold, aching limbs. Within twenty feet of us was 

 a fine dry island a rod across, almost perfectly 

 level, covered with nice soft grass, — an ideal 

 place for a camp. Eaton suggested that we each 

 take turns kicking the others and he basely 

 attempted to lay the responsibility of the camp 

 selection on me. 



