270 
FOREST AND STREAM 
June, 1919 
A nSAimOLE 
/yUAW 
A 5miNOI^I! 
ijeadaian: 
BIjACKBAVS’ 
TAKING THE BA.I0?. 
memory of God went back to the peace 
and quiet of his homeland chapels. The 
night fairly rocked and eddied with the 
uproar. Men with strange set faces and 
glaring eyes rolled almost to the door 
in paroxisms of pain. What they did — 
hurt them! Dust spurted up from the 
board floor and hung in a hazy cloud, 
like stratas of thick mist. It was quite 
the most incoherent affair that mortal 
ever gazed upon. 
“We go — they soon come out. No like 
strangers ” whispered Hendry, who was 
experienced enough to be discreet, “West 
Indies nigger also Holy Roller.” 
John was quite willing to go. He had 
seen enough. And when they had tip- 
toed away, to walk back to the boat, along 
the shell-covered beach, the stars — a 
fantastic mosaic of them over the calm 
bay — were more friendly than before. 
And Hendry went on to explain, that, 
on the morrow, these same men would 
be their normal selves again — hunting 
and fishing. The women and girls would 
once more be lost in the tractless wilds 
of the Chockoloskee region, until the old 
bell in the tower called them from their 
seclusion at an appointed hour. 
“Mighty good fishermen — no good re- 
ligion,” was Hendry’s sole comment. Mr. 
King was asleep upon their return and 
they did not disturb him, but covered 
up in their blankets and tried to forget 
all they had witnessed. 
Once during the night the guide gave 
John a punch in the ribs, partially awak- 
ening him. “You have bad dream,” said 
he, “make talk in sleep — kick off blan- 
kets — you think you Holy Roller!” 
O N the morning of the thirty-first 
Mr. King made it known that a 
little trip up Turner’s River was 
necessary as he was scheduled to make 
certain examinations of the country, 
draw maps and look to the interests of 
the Tamiami proposition. Following 
that, and upon securing a guide, they 
would go up Chevelier Bay on a kindred 
expedition. 
We have erroneously confused the 
mind of the reader as to Chokoloskee Bay 
and Chevelier Bay, referring, in a pre- 
vious chapter, to Chockoloskee island as 
being actually situated in the latter body 
of water. At this time, we wish to make 
it clear that there are chains of these 
bays near the Thousand Island group, 
and that Chevelier is to the southward. 
There is a common bond between the va- 
rious unique elements of the country, 
however — the same endless procession of 
little keys, with their mangrove borders 
and the further reaches of cypress and 
swamp area. 
They were stirring at dawn, as Mr. 
King wished to make an early start. 
“We have had a great deal of play 
lately,” explained Mr. King to his son, 
“and now there must be some practical 
work.” He pointed to the folded chart 
book in his side pocket. 
“I think I’d rather stay here, around 
Chockoloskee and fish,” pleaded John, 
“Hendry says that they have been catch- 
ing lots of bass. And there’s some sport 
hooking the right kind of a bass.” 
Mr. King immediately discouraged 
this. He did not like the looks of things 
on the island and Hendry had one ex- 
perience that only increased this natural 
and well-founded suspicion. 
While bringing supplies down to the 
boat, a man accosted the guide. He was 
the very scum of the neighborhood; un- 
shaven, polyglot and bad of eye. From 
all Hendry could judge the fellow had 
not bathed in years. In his belt, which 
sagged heavily about his thin waist, 
there was thrust a hunting knife of al- 
most piratical appearance. 
Hendry went on to explain that this 
tough customer insisted the guide buy, 
for spot cash, a squatter’s claim on Pav- 
illion Key, going into exaggerated detail 
as to its beauty, value, and future worth. 
And when Hendry refused to even con- 
sider the offer, there was “bad blood.” 
The Chokoloskee outcast wanted to know 
why he turned down such a flattering 
bargain. Would he consider fifty dollars 
for the claim? No. Then, how about 
thirty? Finally, according to the guide, 
this insistent stranger asked Hendry to 
“show him what he had.” 
It seemed to be a piece of rough 
strategy to discover just what Hendry or 
his associates carried along with them 
in the way of hard cash. That it failed 
was fruitful of no infinite amount of sat- 
isfaction on the part of our three adven- 
BGRET arid 
HBB NE/’T. 
By W. LIVINGSTON LARNED 
T hat was a never-to-be-forgotten ex- 
perience for John, Jr. — the visit to 
the Holy Roller Church on Chok- 
oloskee. So deeply engrossed were the 
prayer-makers that they did not notice 
the two figures in the shadow of the lit- 
tle doorway. Once a muck-colored na- 
tive passed them and gave the intruders 
a sharp, quick glance of suspicion, but 
Hendry, in his rough togs and with his 
weathered face, might well have been of 
the clan. And the boy snuggled behind 
him, still deeper in the shadows. 
The bare room, with its rough wooden 
benches, seethed with primitive fanatic- 
ism. Men and women, in the mad pas- 
sion of their creed, beat their breasts^ 
crawled upon the floor, ran hither and 
thither between the seats, or, standing 
strangely erect, with heads held back, 
groaned, howled, supplicated and shouted, 
as the mood took possession of them. 
A tiny oil lamp flickered fitfully over 
all, swinging from the rafters. There 
seemed no system — no set rule of wor- 
ship. Individually they worshipped and 
collectively they made a burlesque of 
divine salutation. It was at once a hide- 
ous and a repulsive sight to John, whose 
Additional Adventures at Chokol- 
oskee, including an Introduction to 
Several Undesirable Citizens. Hen- 
dry has a talk with a Native and 
the Egret Mystery is Again Uncov- 
ered. The Scent Leads to Alligator 
Bay. Wherein the Reader is Per- 
mitted to Fraternize ivith Charlie 
Tigertail. A Dinner That IFos 
Tied to a Stake. Fishing and 
Hunting Plans up TumePs River. 
