424 
FOREST AND STREAM 
August, 1919 
ever- 
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It 
Maxim Sdencer Co. TO I’or:cc!ead Ave., Hartford, Conn. 
distance and he would slash down with 
his machete, cutting them into bits with 
a sort of savage satisfaction. 
Here, too, were water-holes, black, ooze- 
filled and joined by subterranean pass- 
ages. There were alligators beyond 
counting and crawfish, as on Sweetwater 
River. 
But what they had longed to see now 
broke upon their vision, brilliantly illu- 
minated by the sunshine. Through the 
mangroves water glimmered and shim- 
mered and a few steps brought them 
to the eastern shore of a tropic jun- 
gle-surrounded bay — Alligator Bay! 
Shielded by the trees, they peered out 
and into this strange aviary of bird life. 
It was a body of water approximately 
one-half mile long by three-eights of a 
mile wide, while the depth seemed to 
range from four to seven feet. Certainly 
its natural beauty could not be exag- 
gerated! The environment of three spe- 
cies of bays, the myrtle and the man- 
grove, was further elaborated by orchids, 
flaming red clusters of air plants and 
vines that grew luxuriantly over and 
around everything. Here, indeed, was a 
secluded wonderland, approachable by 
boat via two possible channels, one lead- 
ing from Dr. Tiger’s Lake and Lossman’s 
River, to the south, and the other from 
Chevelier Bay. But both of these ap- 
proaches had been sealed by fallen trees 
and as we have had occasion to know, 
“posted.” 
I N the centre of this attractive body of 
water was an island — a large circular 
island, studded with bays myrtles and 
mangroves, and strangely flecked with 
white. Indeed, the green of the foliage 
was almost snowy from the droppings 
of birds. As the afternoon waned, and 
the wanderers returned from their feed- 
ing, the fluttering wings of hundreds 
upon hundreds of pure white egrets in- 
tensified this ghostly appearance. It was 
like a fantastic, spirit-isle, cloaked in 
transparent lacery of mist. 
“A marvelous sight!” muttered Mr. 
King, deeply impressed by what he was 
seeing, “it doesn’t look real, Hendry. 
The egrets and other birds have trans- 
formed the island into a sort of stucco 
imitation. It is a Mardi Gras float of 
the Florida wilds, drifting down the bay! 
And see — ” he pointed upward to the 
sky — “the egrets are coming back to 
roost!” 
“Big Rookery!” nodded Hendry, “lots 
birds. More than I ever see. Indian no 
want us come up passage to Alligator 
Bay. This why.” 
“It is one of the attractions of our 
strange acquaintances in these parts,” 
said Mr. King, “and I am sure there are 
others, Hendry, hidden far up the wind- 
ing rivers and creeks, where few men 
ever see them. The egrets of Florida 
have not gone forever. There is yet time 
to save them if the rascals who shoot 
up these rookeries can be apprehended 
rnd severely sentenced— sentences that 
v/ill frighten those who still roam at 
large up Chokoloskee.” 
Hendry shrugged those expressive, 
bony shoulders of his. 
“So long rich white lady pay big 
money for plume, Indian and Chock folks 
get plumes. She stop buy, they stop kill.” 
Mr. King clapped him on the shoulder. 
“Right!” was his exclamation, “there 
is the real solution of the problem. Hen- 
dry. You are a true philosopher. But 
this vivid ghost-picture in the heart of 
Alligator Bay was what I came miles 
to see. I must confess that my other 
work, while necessary and interesting, 
takes second place. And I only regret 
that John will not be able to see It.” 
“No bring him?” Hendry asked. 
“No, I am afraid fjr the boy. We 
are taking a long chance, Hendry. You 
know it; I know it. Somewhere in the 
shrubbery around these wonderful shores 
there is a guard, a watcher, the menace 
of the rifle shot and the deadly ambus- 
cade. That is why we must ourselves 
turn back without even stepping out on 
shore. It might mean our lives.” 
Without a word, Hendry turned fac- 
ing the depths of the swamp and the back 
trail. It was what he would have said 
himself. 
But Mr. King was taking one last look. 
Cold shadows were beginning to fall 
across the water from the hedge of trees. 
Stark and unsightly, like roots of ex- 
posed teeth, the marginal extremities of 
the mangroves on the rookery loomed 
grey-white in the afternoon glow, under 
their lathering of mud. And always, 
overhead and across the hushed waters 
and in the massed foliage of the little 
round island, the egrets winged rest- 
lessly. 
Mr. King could see the tragedy enacted 
— the men hidden ashore near the rook- 
ery, the first shot that sent the alarmed 
birds upward, the fair marks against 
blue sky, the cry of agony and the help' 
less white thing that suddenly pitched 
into the lake. It was such a dastardly 
act! There was a coward in every gun- 
shot! 
“You come?” asked Hendry. 
“I come,” answered his companion. 
A nd so we have all but completed 
our story friend reader. If it has 
been overlong and filled with the 
things that were always just ahead, you 
must be forebearing. We who have writ- 
ten this tale knew that there was tragedy 
at the end. We knew that we would 
finally come upon the scene of a crime 
against the most beautiful and the most 
harmless of birds. That knowledge has 
frankly oppressed us. 
Now — as we write, there are bad In- 
dians and worse white men up the tan- 
gled trails of these same rivers, and the 
traffic still continues. Perhaps you who 
love gun and rod may care to cover the 
same ground some day. Game wardens 
will shake their heads when you mention 
it. There are so many unmarked graves 
near Chokoloskee and Chevelier. 
As for our own party, they hunted 
and fished another day and then de- 
scended Chatham Bend River to the wel- 
come gulf. The voya.ge around the cape 
and up the other coast was uneventful, 
if so we may term those golden, lazy 
hours of sport. At Miami the thankful 
strangers took their departure, and so 
far as we know, have not been seen by 
any member of the party since. What 
had prompted them to ascend that far 
creek above the shell mound re'rion will 
(CONTINUED ON PAGE 430 ) 
