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not banish from my mind. I 
was eager to be off to one of the 
great ’Glade hammocks with Sonnyboy, 
but enough of the born fisherman was 
left in me, to mingle self with Son, and 
to concentrate my immediate attention 
upon the dark, green flood, which was 
Tamiami. 
Back yonder on the dredge tender 
was a combined psychologist and bass 
enthusiast. And he was catching them! 
And the morning was still young! 
We would go about it in our own 
way. Sonnyboy was to know the thrill 
of bass in these unaccustomed waters. 
It was an essential part of his train- 
ing. I have a feeling, all my own, that 
no man will ever understand what 
living is until he has a try 
at black bass. It’s one of [= | 
those experiences that defy 
imitation. You either do it, [97 j 
during a busy lifetime—or 
VOU COns aL COU ess 
But the bass is something 
else again. And here we 
were, with a fishing-ground 
the like of which few know. 
Tamiami Canal means 
fresh water. There’s not a 
hint of salt in-it. Same 
thing is true of the flooded 
areas of the Everglades. 
Sweet, clean water. Go to 
a canal-reclaimed section, 
drive down a surveyor’s 
GS jnot banish black bass would 
EE ES 
A VIEW DOWN THE TAMIAMI, 
THE CANAL. 
WZ, 
d [ventures ¢. a 
bom at ats a 
Lae. \' Q Ny 

ig 
= 
Bs || | ! 
= iN l reel Hit 
By W. LIVINGSTON LARNED 


water that’s 
AM ove. ie 
mysteries of the 
rod, and you’ll strike 
good enough for drinking! 
one of the eternal 
place! 
We had “parked” the car in a se- 
cluded nook under low-hanging bay 
trees, and thrown a blanket over the 
hood for the inevitable rains. But 
“Black Bass” had assured us that we 
could leave a hatfull of diamond rings 
on the canal and never worry about 
their safety. Nobody ever bothered 
with the other fellow’s goods and chat- 
tels. No—there was a proviso. The 
Seminole refuses to recognize any 
righteous and segregated ownership of 
—anything. He will stop and collect 
a basketful of cabbage or a_ picnic 
lunch. Some sublime and all-providing 

SHOWING 
HERE WAS OUR BLACK 
AN EXCITING MOMENT 
MARL ROADBED AND 
BASS FISHERMAN AT 


ates, 
Pen 
{geet “mn, Me aps 
( we ‘ ih ther 








qo p 
TESTPU RANMA NEON 
‘ 
Bark of Alligator and Hiss of Moc- 
casin: 
of Onl. 
err orioe Everglades, with an Incidental Hint 
That the Seminole Indian Still Believes in 
His Divine Right to the Mystic Land of His Ancient 
Forefathers. 
Yowl of Wildcat and Hoot 
Hammock Thrill of the 
God makes the Seminole 
What is—is his! 
Our equipment we put upon our 
backs, and it was no small item, for I 
planned to remain a day or so on a 
real hammock, far removed from even 
the snorting and adventurous dredges, 
at the extremity of their work. 
For at least a quarter of a mile the 
Tamiami trail lured us onward, al- 
though at this part it was as wild as 
anything Sonnyboy could have pictured 
in his dreams. And now we were again 
confronted by the blank, green wall of 
a hammock which had been cut in 
twain by one of the expeditionary 
Jredges. A rickety plank walk had 
been placed across the canal. If we 
went further than this, we would have 
to face muck and mud and 
’f) absolute wilderness. Or it 
~ | would mean the problem 
of crossing the narrow 
stream, which, while inno- 
cent enough as to appear- 
ance, was very deep in 
parts. 
“Going to fish again?” 
Sonnyboy inquired, as I 
methodically threw off the 
load of the camp junk and 
began to fuss with my rod 
Bas and reel. 
“Just must have another 
try at, bass,” I answered. 
“It’s early. Here’s a fish 
you'll want to become 
Page 70 
reasoning. 
