August, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
467 
Concluding 
Installment of 
"Lost in the Everglades 
began to talk volubly. There was a touch 
of the child—and of fever—in his great 
happiness. They were “coming out” ! 
I T was possible to sit in the skiff now, 
and pole. Occasionally, they found it 
necessary to get out and make a tempo¬ 
rary portage, but these drawbacks were 
few and far between. Six miles they 
poled, and desperation, mixed with tri¬ 
umph, gave power to exhausted strength. 
The saw grass was so tall they could 
scarcely see above it, but when Mr. King 
steadied himself and looked around, he 
could see cypress and mangrove again and 
large islands, densely covered with foliage. 
They ran into one of these—a big fellow, 
at least a mile long, where the mangrove 
roots, tightly knit and impenetrable, of¬ 
ness of the pas¬ 
sage and the di¬ 
rect character of 
the route, made 
him yield. 
“We will try 
it,” he half whis¬ 
pered to his son, 
and, smiled, as he thought of the old 
adage, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” 
It seemed so incongruous to quote it after 
all they had suffered. At times the chan¬ 
nel through the hammock was so narrow, 
they could reach out and pull down the 
flaming blossoms of the air plants. On 
either side a dense jungle undergrowth, 
primeval in its character, reached as high 
as they could see, until vines and creepers 
were lost in the tops of the myrtle and cy¬ 
press. There was three feet of water—- 
pure, clean water. They drank of it, deep¬ 
ly, and filled their spare tins. O'ccasion- 
ally low-hanging vines were cut by John’s 
still active and expert machete. 
certain in¬ 
dications of 
the coast 
country. 
Even then 
Mr. King, 
for all his knowledge of 
Gulf, was not sure of 
ground. Where were 
headed? To safety—yes. 
to what part of the 
fered another serious problem. At inter¬ 
vals of fifty or a hundred feet, dark, 
shadowy channels disappeared into the 
jungle-like interior. 
Would they cut through, on a chance, or 
go around? Mr. King hesitated at enter¬ 
ing. Fear possessed him, as he saw that 
solid wall of vines, cypress, decayed wood 
and the maddening mangrove roots. Yet 
here was one passage, wider than the rest. 
It looked as if it might see them through. 
Although often before they had been 
tempted into blind alleys that exhausted 
their fast-failing strength to no purpose, yet 
something in the depth of water, the clear- 
*jijs2gr : 
■ - 
Two views of the houseboat “Kennesaw” 
and the tender “Powell” 
In time, the boat pushed out from this 
tropic wonderland and was poled into an¬ 
other area of tall saw grass. Ahead, they 
could see clumps of mangrove, spotted 
against the sky, cocoa plums, bushes of va¬ 
rious kinds, on little individual isles, and 
indefinable signs that to practised eyes were 
the 
his 
they 
But 
coast? 
One half mile further on and they came 
upon a waterway at least twenty feet wide. 
It reached the dignity of a “stream.” With 
tears in his eyes, Mr. King dropped the 
pole and placed his hands upon the shoul¬ 
ders of the two brave boys. 
“We are saved!” said he, “God has been 
very good. Now only can I tell you that 
there have been many times when I 
doubted whether we could make our escape. 
Rescue is assured.” 
T HE sun had dipped below the man¬ 
groves, and still they poled and pad- 
died on. The current was more pro¬ 
nounced. What was still more encouraging, 
was the ever widening aspect of the water¬ 
way, which was fed by many small streams. 
There was one more hour of daylight and 
they intended to take advantage of it. The 
slightest touch of the paddles sent them 
speedily ahead on the surface of the glo¬ 
rious water. Lily pads had materialized, as 
if dropped by fairy hands. To the left, 
there was tall timber and to the right, saw 
grass, swaying with the swift current. 
