January, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
23 
case of the adult. His average weight is 
from five to ten pounds, although Mr. 
King speared a monster of some thirty- 
eight pounds during the later days of the 
expedition. The Gar has a ferocious al¬ 
though slender snout. As young Catlow 
put it, “he has a face that is built exactly 
like a pair of hair-curlers.” 
The Gar is a fresh-water fish. He is 
easily speared in some sections and under 
some conditions, although the favorite 
method is to troll with a hand-line, using 
Minnow, cut bait, spoon or phantom. 
When fishing with- rod and reel with or 
without sinker, a No. 4 or 5 hook is em¬ 
ployed and r8 or 21 line. The sleek and 
sharp-eyed Gar is better left under water. 
Without a moment’s delay, the break¬ 
fast was cleared away and a new start 
made, just as a burning red sun came 
beamingly above the horizon. It was 
nearly a perfect spring day, with the most 
affable of warm breezes blowing and not 
a cloud in the great arch of the sky. Cat- 
low pointed laughingly to a crude sign he 
had left upon a stake on their first Myrtle 
Island. He had scribbled off the letters on 
a bit of plank taken from one of the sup¬ 
ply boxes. It read :— 
CAMP DISCOMFORT. 
Even a Myrtle Island Should Supply 
Fire-wood. 
(Thanks for the Frogs.) 
Mr. King, who had been making silent 
observations, was more than ever im¬ 
pressed by the condition of the surround¬ 
ing country. There were unmistakable 
evidences of the slow but sure work of 
the drainage canal and the still more in¬ 
sidious effects of local drought. It was 
not a case of following the compass and 
known directions. The boat could not be 
poled at will. Every foot of the way was 
now negotiated with the greatest possible 
difficulty through the labyrinths. 
Passageway after passageway was found 
to be quite dry. The soggy, pasty mud 
offered no inducements to boat or boot. 
Miles of yellowish, sickly saw-grass were 
encountered, standing high out of the bog, 
with three and four inches of brown dis¬ 
coloration at the base of the stalks. 
For three hours they 
nosed painfully to the 
West, eager for some 
show of deep water. 
Conditions only grew 
the more discouraging. 
It was finally de¬ 
cided to find a way 
out, over the same 
course as the previous 
evening. They must 
retrace their steps, as 
it were, pole mark by pole mark, trusting 
to stumble upon an open waterway. To 
Westward there was nothing. Mr. King’s 
plans were completely disarranged. The 
Seminole “tip” that there was a Western 
channel could be put down as untrust¬ 
worthy, it seemed. 
A very much discouraged and aggra¬ 
vated party of three saw the sun slowly 
decend at the close of a second day—the 
12th—upon temporary defeat, at least. 
Each, in turn, had done his bit at the pole 
and each, as well, mud-covered and with 
strained muscles, had tugged and pushed 
and yanked at the little boat, on its hope¬ 
less search through the water wastes. 
Not even the sight of a Myrtle Island 
had served to decrease the monotony of 
sky and everlasting saw-grass. The land¬ 
scape was always the same—mud, sloughs, 
dry runs, deceptive pools and puddles— 
channels, leading off well, with shallow, 
clear water, and ending in blind alleys. It 
was distracting and exasperating. 
The noon-day meal was eaten hastily in 
the boat and it began to look very much 
as though the night must be spent in it, 
when a sudden turn through a lane of tall 
grass brought them welcome news. 
King Jr. had been gazing through his 
field glasses. No Columbus, eager for 
signs of a New World, ever went at the 
task more earnestly. 
“There’s a REAL Island!” was his ex¬ 
cited exclamation : “Look, look!” 
What had escaped their notice before, 
now became a reality far down the irregu¬ 
lar waterway. 
They were Bay Trees—a clump of them! 
They stood out bulkily against the evening 
sky, with one particularly tall fellow to 
the left, moss-covered, scraggly, and 
choked with nests. They were thinking the 
same thing, as they took turns at the glass 
—here was an Observation Tree—a means 
of looking over the surrounding territory 
for the solution of their problem. This 
was of even greater importance than the 
purely physical relief at locating a Camp 
for the night. They might have scoured 
that territory for thirty miles and not 
found such an admirable Observation Post. 
It was the first fragment of genuine 
luck in forty-eight hours of misfortune. 
To better understand the situation it 
should be explained that Mr. King had ex¬ 
pected to make, rapid progress to the in¬ 
terior. Fairly familiar with this portion 
of the outer rim of the Everglades, he had 
anticipated no obstruction of any sort. 
The territory, true enough, was not com¬ 
monly traversed, save by the Indians, but 
there had been no reports of drought. It 
was discomfiting to find that at the close 
of the second day, they were scarcely out 
of sight and sound of the canal dredges. 
That they had been tediously grinding here 
and there, around and around, across shal¬ 
low waterways, with not the slightest idea 
of how or when or where they could lo¬ 
cate an open lead, seemed incredible. 
Mastery of The ’Glades has never been 
a popular Florida sport. Even the trained 
guides admit that the limitations are many. 
Conditions change in a season—or week. 
It is truly the realm of Tropic Mystery! 
After an interminable period of poling 
(every hand was long since blistered) the 
boat was brought up in the shelter of a 
tiny lagoon, overhung with trailing vines 
and flowers. Up from dense masses of 
the saw-grass and decayed myrtle wood, 
sprang the luxuriant plumes of 'bay, their 
white-gray limbs shining in the late after¬ 
noon sun. It was a REAL Island—what 
with firm portage and sufficient fire-wood, 
and places where man could set his foot, 
and not have it “squeegee” down into wa¬ 
tery mush of moss, mud and rotted leaves 
and lurking living creatures. 
The water was reasonably clear here, 
again; limpid and transparent, and dotted 
over with the liveliest of long-legged in¬ 
sects, that were aquatic marvels in. their 
way. Once the boys saw the 'shadowy glint 
of a school of good-sized minnows, as they 
scampered past the boat, and a family of 
crawfish, disturbed while making prepara¬ 
tions for a night’s siesta, did a series of 
fox-trot steps on the sand-stone ledges. 
For camp purposes, it was indeed ideal; 
and there was real encouragement in the 
condition of the surrounding water. 
The boat became a center of activity. 
King and Catlow collected enough dry 
wood for the night and made a barricade 
of it in a snug thicket. 
Then a camp fire was 
made ready and Mr. 
King, as custodian of 
the royal pantry, de¬ 
cided that the feast 
should be a merry one. 
He would bake fresh 
bread and there was to 
be beans and side meat 
(continued on page 57) 
