day when Man shall have harnessed 
the Everglades and conquered its mys- 
teries. As cruel as it may seem to the 
things which live here and have their 
home, it was inevitable. The IDEA 
is right. An unproductive land is to 
blossom with crops and with villages.” 
When we returned to the hammock 
and walked some quarter of a mile 
along its little beach, we found that its 
entire length had been traversed, and 
we must take to the open ’Glades. I 
swung my binoculars into line and took 
a good look westward at a half-dozen 
of the far-flung myrtle clumps and 
hammocks. South of our _ present 
place, I made out a hammock which 
was obviously one of the very much 
larger keys—large enouth to be digni- 
fied by the name of “island.” It lay 
perhaps three and a half miles distant, 
and my glasses told me that its foliage 
was both luxuriant and full-grown, a 
clump of palms raising their bushy 
heads to a considerable height. It had 
been cut off from observation at the 
canal by the present sizeable hammock. 
“We'll make that one,” I said to 
Sonnyboy, “it’s a whopper, too, and 
picturesque. From all I can make out 
with the binoculars, there is water on 
the south side. We may not be able to 
get there, but it’s worth trying, at least. 
Better watch your hands from this on; 
the sawgrass comes by its name justly. 
You can get some nasty cuts without 
being conscious of it. But before we go 
another step we must take our kerosene 
bath or the chiggers and hammock in- 
sects will eat us alive.” 
This was also a new experience for 
Son. I made him sit on the sand and 
strip off his boots, double leggings and 
socks, and also roll up his trousers as 
far as they would go. Then I rubbed 
both legs thoroughly with the kerosene, 
a bottle of which had been brought 
along for the purpose. Finished with 
him, I did likewise. It’s a compulsory 
’Glades rule. On my first trip into the 
hammocks, I had ignored the sugges- 
tion of a guide and, as a consequence, 
suffered for a month following with 
bites which were of the embedded kind, 
and nearly drove me mad. But neither 
red bugs nor chiggers nor plant lice 
have any use for the smell or the taste 
of kerosene. It is an intensely service- 
able protection. 
We made our start now, as odorifer- 
ous as an overturned country lamp. 
It was warm—very, very warm, the 
sun haying climbed higher in the 
heavens, and the double leggins caused 
our feet and legs to burn and per- 
spire, but both canvas and the stoutest 
leather kind are necessary as a safe- 
guard against rattlers, moccasins, and 
the equally poisonous tiny green coral 

LOOKING OUT FROM OUR HAMMOCK 
UPON A BAYOU AND SLOUGH, IN WHICH 
GREW A DENSE MAZE OF LILY PADS. 
MULLET AND FRESH-WATER BREAM 
WERE VERY MUCH IN EVIDENCE, AN 
IDEAL PLACE FOR THEM TO HIDE 
snake of the thickets on the hammock 
land. 
Five different attempts to find pass- 
able ground were made before we met 
with success. The sloughs were numer- 
ous and we did not dare attempt to 
wade through them, lest we become 
mired in the muck. Other places, 
seemingly dry enough, where sawgrass 
grew intermittently, gave way beneath 
us, and up came the bubbling ooze with 
the first step. It was dangerous going. 
But after exploring around the north- 
ern side of the hammock for some dis- 
tance, we located marl, limestone and 
white sand, and, by exercising great 
care, picked our way gradually around 
to the west once more and in the gen- 
eral direction of the large hammock. 
Several attractive myrtle clumps broke 
the monotony of the hike but we did 
not stop to explore them. 
Had we been able to proceed in a 
direct line, the distance to the camp 
site would have been no greater than 
my first estimate of it, but the sloughs 
and the “bad spots” and the occasional 
masses of sawgrass, too thick for safe 
passage, brought us detours past count- 
ing, and it was noon before we finally 
came up to our beautiful hammock. It 
is very difficult walking out there, and 
we were weary from the effort of it. 
Our clothes were hacked by the grass 
and our hands lined with tiny cuts 
from which the blood ran. Carrying 
the luggage in that extreme heat was 

HUNTERS GO OUT UPON THE ’GLADES 
PRAIRIES—IN AUTOMOBILES, MIND YOU 
—AND WHERE THE AREAS HAVE DRIED, 
FIND DEER IN PLENTY CN THE WOODED 
HAMMOCKS AND IN THE PINE SECTION. 
A SHORT DAY’S BAG 
length and a mile wide in places. 
an added woe, although it is strangely 
true of the Everglades that a fresh, 
clean, invigorating breeze is nearly al- 
ways blowing. Otherwise, it would be 
unbearable. 
I had said nothing since we departed 
from the canal, on the subject of Son- 
nyboy’s aversion to the expedition and 
a night on a hammock, nor had he evi- 
denced a return of the fear which had 
been obvious as he saw those blood 
stains on the dredge tender. A boy 
should never carry with him the belief 
that there is anything in the great 
outdoors past his conquering. Sonny 
had a lesson to learn. 
I judged that the present hammock 
was not less than twelve miles in 
We 
entered it at its eastern extremity, and 
for the first time it was necessary for 
me to get out my machete, to make a 
preliminary opening through the dense 
undergrowth, vines, grass and water- 
oak. At just one point could the ham- 
mock be reached at all, for the sur- 
rounding country was muck-wet and 
very treacherous. Some eight or more 
inches of water lay to the southward, 
lapping right up to the roots of a few 
straggling mangroves and the scrub 
oaks. But on the northern side the 
marl projections again came to our 
rescue. Knee deep in black slime and 
rotted vegetation, we at last gained 
high ground. 
It was cool and shadowy there in 
that vast city of trees, and strangely 
silent. The slashes of the machete 
sounded well nigh blasphemous. Bear- 
ing to the left, we dodged around and 
under ferns head-high, clumps of cus- 
tard apples, and very small bays, vines 
of the “entangling alliance” kind, and 
at last saw the sunlight and the open 
ahead of us again, accompanied by a 
very low, musical ripple of water. 
This spot was indeed more like the real 
Everglades and the real hammocks, 
prior to drainage. 
“An ideal spot for lunch,” I sug- 
gested, “and a rest. Tired?” 
“No, Dad, but I’m so hungry I could 
eat sawgrass,” Sonnyboy responded. 
“How about fried black bass?” 
“Great!” 
There was a rise of good, firm 
ground here, shaded by one of the 
largest myrtles we had seen, and the 
sod cloth which I had brought along 
was spread out, and a fire started 
down nearer the water’s edge, on a 
ten-foot square mound of sand and 
tiny shells. Dry wood was to be found 
in abundance, but I had heard the 
danger of hammock fires and was 
cautions, lest the breeze carry sparks 
back into the woods and jungle. 
From where we squatted, we could 
look out on a most interesting ex- 
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