8S IN FLORIDA. 



closing in upon us fast. Still no signs of the lake, 

 or of an end to this apparently endless river. 

 Strange noises rang through the forest, cries like 

 those of wild beasts, but such as we had never 

 heard before, often as we had passed the night in 

 the woods. I recalled what I had read of the puma, 

 the dreaded Southern tiger, and realized the fact 

 that against him number four duck shot would be a 

 feeble defence. The noises grew louder and louder, 

 the forests fairly reverberated with the unearthly 

 screams till, when one more than usually horrible 

 burst upon our ears, Mr. Green inquired with a 

 composure, which seemed slightly assumed : 



"What sort of an animal do you think it is that 

 makes a noise like that ? " 



I had never heard anything so appalling in my 

 life before, but was not to be outdone by my asso- 

 ciate in coolness, and replied in a hollow mockery 

 of jest : 



"That ? Oh, that is a Limpkin. There can be 

 no doubt of that." 



To this reply Mr. Green made no direct response, 

 though his face intimated that jokes on some occa- 

 sions were out of place. The unnatural stillness 

 of the country made these noises perhaps more 

 ominous and unearthly. There was not a breath 

 of air to stir the trees, no ripple or current to the 

 stream which might have diverted our thoughts by 

 its musical babble, and deathlike silence hung over 

 the land, except when broken by the ringing 

 screams. The night was getting darker and darker, 



