300 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Visitors to St. Louis are courteously invited to inspect 
our plant— covers iqx acres. 
mM 
u FRAMERS OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE US. A.” NO l 
George ‘^fosMngton — Father of His Country 
E VERY AMERICAN knows that without “Immortal W&shingtori’ 
our National Independence would have been impossible. Few, how¬ 
ever, know that the greatest battle of Washington’s life was fought 
t to secure for his countrymen the Constitution of the United States. 
Almost immediately after the Revolution it seemed that all the great sacrifice 
of blood and treasure had been in vain. The original thirteen states refused to 
work in harmony, either in spirit or in law. The new Republic was totter¬ 
ing to its foundations. At this critical period in American history the most 
brilliant men of each state met in convention and unanimously elected 
Washington as President—undoubtedly the most momentous gathering of 
the kind the world has ever known. Here he displayed as great ability as 
law-maker as he had as a warrior. For months the Fathers of the Republic 
labored, and finally adopted our present National Law, which forever 
guarantees Religious, Commercial and Personal Liberty. This was in 1787. 
Seventy years later Anheuser-Busch established their great institution upon m 
the tenets of the Federal Law which Washington did so much to create. 
Like all of the great men of his time he was a moderate user of good old 
barley brews. For three generations Anheuser-Busch have brewed honest 
malt and hop beers.To-day 7500 people are daily employed to keep pace 
with the ever-increasing public demand. The great popularity of their 
brand—BUDWEISER—due to auality, purity, mildness ana exquisite 
flavor, has made its sales exceed those of any other beer by millions 
of bottles. anheuser . busch . st. LOUIS,U.S.A. 
cypress wilderness, and the uncanny little screech 
owls dropped their maniac whimpers from the 
darkness above us. Amid the cypresses we heard 
the snarl and squeak of fighting things that 
splashed the water, and the rasping of claws 
upon the bark of trees. Otters slid into the 
stream, making only a faint “sough” as the 
water parted along their velvet sides. 
Far down the stream, two whip-poor-wills 
lifted melancholy voices, and a sound like the 
gritting of teeth issued from the palmetto shrub¬ 
bery. No cheerful sound came out of the 
gloom. One small screech owl on silent wings 
flitted about our heads, once so close to mine 
that I smelled' the musk of its body. On no other 
night did the great swamp more impress me with 
its savagery. 
We broke camp early next morning and that | 
day of battle with the armies of the Okefinokee ; 
was the most strenuous of 'the entire trip. Tear- ! 
ing aside the thick pendulous veils of Spanish 
moss, we were met with interlocked branches of 
trees, some above water, while others were half j 
submerged. These gave way to our attacks, only ; 
to let us upon snags and slippery logs, and tree- ! 
tops set en chevaux-de-frise. At two places old j 
jams of sunken logs were overgrown with vege- I 
tation, and matted with moss and mold, under 
and through which the unseen river wound its 
way. 
Here difficult portages were made, through tan¬ 
gled brush and in water sometimes waist-deep. I 
had had a score of opportunities to upset my 
boat, but accepted only one of them. While \ 
trying to pull a half rotten pole out of the mud 
bank, it broke, and “Fate” deserted me. I 
poured the water out of my quiver, surrendered 
my wet bow and Maurice, who rubbed them dry, 
and I continued on foot for more than an hour, 
waist-deep in water, removing obstructions. 
Late in the afternoon we encamped on an 
island east of the stream, six or seven miles 
south of our last camp. Jordan built a great 
fire, and I dried my clothing without taking off 
anything except my coat and boots. Our stay 
upon this island was too brief to gain much 
knowledge of its extent or of its animal life, but 
here I made the best shot of the many hundreds 
upon the trip. A gray squirrel was seen crawl¬ 
ing out upon one of the topmost boughs of a 
large sweet-gum tree, evidently about to leap to 
an out-reaching branch of a neighboring cypress. 
It was probably seventy feet from the ground 
and at least sixty yards away. An arrow which 
should miss him would be hopelessly lost in an 
almost impenetrable thicket beyond. I chanced 
to have my bow in hand and a fine broadhead 
arrow nocked upon the string. The shaft was 
too good to lose and I hesitated; but urged on 
by Maurice’s derisive “Shoot! Shoot! You 
cannot miss him !” I drew the arrow to the head 
and the strong black-locust bow drove the broad 
steel arrow-head through both shoulders, and the 
squirrel came down with only the feathered end 
of the shaft clinging in the wound. Jordan 
wagged his head slowly and said: “Mos’ like a 
rifle.” Afterward, however, he had much op¬ 
portunity to challenge the accuracy of this com¬ 
parison. 
The night spent here was much like the one 
before. The screech owls were not in evidence, 
nor were the frogs, but the big Florida owl 
shook the night with his basso profundo note, 
and twice from far down the creek came a 
hideous “Ha! ha! ha--a!” that no stage villain 
ever had power to match or mock. Jordan 
grinned as I jumped to my feet and stared into 
the dark. “What’s that?” I asked. “Jackass,” 
he answered. “No,” I said, “not a bit like a 
jackass’ hehaw; that must have been some kind 
of an owl.” “Jes’ what I said; jackass owl,” 
he said. Then was the first time I ever heard 
the voice or the provincial name of the great 
laughing owl. It is a rare bird, and no giant 
maniac could inform his yell with a tithe of the 
horror borne through the gloom by this night 
bird’s brainless laugh. The little wood ducks 
called and whimpered in the river below, and 
then for a time all was still. But soon the things 
that walk in darkness and are not afraid, made 
themselves known, and I went to sleep, feeling 
that many eyes were fixed upon us, and that live 
bodies slid like shuttles through the web of 
weeds and shrubbery that carpeted the ground 
about us. 
Jordan lighted his morning fire early, and an¬ 
nounced that “We gwine to eat dinner on Billy’s 
Island today.” The cheery tone of his voice 
chimed with his earlier declaration that “Billy’s 
Island is the bes’ place in the whole swamp,” and 
we lost no time in preparing for departure to 
the promised land. 
Thus far our course had been nearly due south, 
in so far as we could judge, and we so con¬ 
tinued for an hour or two, until we came to 
where a sluggish stream entered from the north¬ 
east. Jordan had a name for this creek, but I 
have forgotten it. Its curent was scarcely per- 
