LOST IN THE DEVIL'S GARDEN 



J. E. TYLOR. 

 Photos by the Author. 



Bound for the everglade country in 

 Southern Florida, we left our train at 

 Punta Gorda, and early the following 

 morning took the steamer St. Lucie due to 

 reach Fort Meyers in the evening. The 

 placid waters of Charlotte harbor afforded 

 rich relief to the dust and fatigue of rail- 

 road travel, and few were the moments 

 when something of interest did not receive 

 our attention. Frequently the waters were 

 disturbed by the plunge of a pelican as he 

 gobbled a big fish that imprudently basked 



little traveled as to lose all trace of a track 

 except in soft soil, while Mr. Hendry and I 

 rode about, following the general direction 

 of the wagon, looking for game. Old Ped- 

 lar, Mr. Hendry's deer dog, kept us close 

 company, as did Cuff, Greene's cat and 

 deer dog, also my faithful old coon dog, 

 Bruce. The latter evidently thought this a 

 grand coon expedition, for he put up sev- 

 eral, and delayed us so much by striking 

 trails that we tied him behind the wagon. 

 The first 2 days represented much travel 



AT THE HEAD OF THE DEVIL'S GARDEN. 



on the sunny surface ; the playful porpoises, 

 chasing one another, bounded out of the 

 water only to disappear the next instant; 

 or a tarpon made a majestic spurt, cut the 

 surface and sent spray flying. 



Arriving at Fort Meyers, we were met by 

 Mr. Louis Hendry, Mayor of that beautiful 

 village, who had everything ready for the 

 hunt. The following morning found us in 

 the saddle, bound for the Devil's Garden. 

 Mr. Hough, guide, and Rat Green, cook 

 and camp man, drove the 2-horse wagon 

 containing supplies. They followed the 

 road, though a few miles out it was so 



and little hunting. We had expected to 

 find a deer or turkey on the way, but though 

 signs were plentiful our course failed to 

 lead directly to the live article. However, 

 we used small shot to advantage, and Green 

 snatched hide and feathers of quails and 

 snipe at every stopping place. The morn- 

 ing of the third day found us still with- 

 out venison. We had left camp but a few 

 minutes when a doe gave Mr. Hendry the 

 first shot of the trip. It was hit hard, poor 

 thing, and went away, we hoped to recover. 

 I also fired, but failed to score. 

 Later in the day Mr. Hendry saw a rat- 



353 



