FOREST AND STREAM. 


“there belongs to be’ a bass under every 
cypress root. Get in touch with Billy Bass; 
he can “put you wise” on Florida bass fishing 
from A to Z 
A Resume. 
In looking over my notes I find a host of 
interesting things on which I have not had 
space to touch. ‘There are three classes of 
people who like to winter in Florida: Class A 
—Sportsmen who go down for either shooting 
or fishing, and go either to the small interior 
towns or the -coast, depending upon whether 
their chief interest is in gun or rod. Class B— 
Those who go to escape the rigorous northern 
winter and do not demand to be amused and 
who are scattered everywhere according to the 
size of their bank account. Class C—Society, 
to whom the East Coast with its array of fine 
hotels is a winter playground. 
If you do not belong to one of these classes, I 
will lay ‘a wager you will find it dull. As most 
of you who read this belong to Class A, you 
can count on a most delightful winter if you 
make a pilgrimage to the Jolly Palms or some 
other equally attractive sportsmen’s resort. 
It really will give me pleasure to answer any 
inquiries or give any further information about 
the subjects touched on in this sketch. They 
say down there, that once a man gets the 
Florida sand in his shoes, he will always come 
back. It is a charm that never fails, and I am 
under the spell. The “call of the wild” is on 
me, and I have but to give my imagination free 
rein, and I am lounging on the veranda of our 
cozy cottage gazing over the tranquil waters 
of Lake Juanita toward the west, where a 
gorgeous southern sun sinks slowly behind the 
pines, flooding the water with crimson and gold. 
With flash of wings a wood dove and his mate. 
cross the fire path of the sun and disappear 
in the safe shadows of the hammock. A scat- 
tered covey of quail are calling softly out there 
at the edge of the wood, and away across the 
lake some returning cowboy, whose heart swells 
with the mere joy of living, raises his voice in 
that marvelous call whose. beautiful melody 
floats clear and sweet through the evening 
silence and dies away among the distant echoing 
hills. W. W. Brown. 
In Camp in Florida. 
Mr. H. H. Powett writes from his new camp 
at Drifton, Fla., under date of January 23, that 
he finds quail, wild ducks and wild turkeys abun- 
éliant. 
“ig 
SEMINOLES OF THE EVERGLADES. 
Seminole Indian Feast Days. 
A Huntine DANcE in a Seminole camp! What 
memories of centuries past are kept alive by this 
brown-skinned race, as they observe the ancient 
feast days of an aboriginal people. 
With an invitation from the old chieftain, 
Tallahassee, who is patriarch of the tribe, to at- 
tend the Hunting Dance or Harvest Feast, the 
temptation was too great to resist. This festival 
occurs only in cycles—once every four years— 
and the character of its observance is known to 
but few, if any white people. The Indian camps 
are so inaccessible that it takes nerve and muscle 
to réach them; but knowing that the entire band 
of Indians would be on hand in gala spirits and 
gorgeous attire, and knowing too that it was an 
opportunity that might come but once in a life- 
time, the question of “‘to go or not to go,” was 
soon settled, and preparations for the irksome 
journey were under way. 
The Seminole makes his home in some se- 
cluded spot or fertile islands, where the imme- 
diate environment is a watery prarie. By train 
ride of 160 miles we reached a little Florida 
hamlet, where a teamster with a creaking wagon 
and a pair of lean, cadaverous-looking horses 
was secured. Then followed a drive of thirty 
miles through ponds, swamp, prairie flats, slush 
and water, with sand-flies whirring and buzzing 
in our ears as they seemed to offer their 
orchestral escort through the dismal, funereal 
Allapata flats. The journey was nearing its end. 
The sun, shining with a July fierceness, glinted 
the wigwams of the Seminoles. Tired and 
hungry we approached the village. Here the 
signs of the festival were everywhere apparent. 
With the inborn courtesy, that is ever present 
with these untutored Seminoles in the presence 
of a friend, they met us with royal grace. A 
wigwam was placed at our disposal, our bag-. 
gage was unloaded, and in a quiet and unob- 
trusive manner a fine saddle of venison was pre- 
sented. 
The Indians were bubbling over with excite- 
ment, for it was a time for rejoicing— a carni- 
val, when men, women and children all joined in 
the merriment. 
As our visit always means presents for the 
Indians, expectant faces from the little toddling 
children, as well as from the older members of 
the camp, reminded us that it was time to dis- 
tribute tobacco, pipes, red handerchiefs, trinkets 
for the women, candy and nuts for the little 
ones. 
Happiness pervaded the Everglade village. 
The older Indians, with the exception of the old 
chief, played like children, keeping the joyous 
_ revelry up from hour to hour. 
The afternoon of our arrival was devoted to 
a ball game. An aboriginal ball game! Cer- 
tainly played by a code of rules more than 150 
years old, where no curved balls nor Yale 
coaching had entered, but where swelled and 
echoed the glad free trump of joy as the game 
went on with scientific strokes and measured 
tread, with now and then a “rush” as the ball 
missed its target and bounded out of its circle. 
Both men and women participated in the game, 
the women being as adept as the men. The 
game is unique and might be practiced with 
much pleasure by our American boys. 
Within a circle whose circumference is about 
thirty feet is erected a pole, which serves as a 
goal.. The players take sides, or in country 
school parlance, “choose up.” The object of 
the game is to strike the pole with the ball, 
which is knocked with a racket or stick, which 
is made of hickory, with a netted pocket made 
of deer thongs. 
The ball is tossed up and caught in the netted 
pocket, and then hurled at the pole. The op- 
posing side endeavor to prevent the ball from 
touching the post. Sometimes the ball strikes 
the ground away beyond the line of play, and 
then a scamper for it is a moment for great ex- 
citement. Men, women and children make a 
rush for the ball, the victor having the next 
play. A scorekeeper stands by the pole, keep- 
ing a record of the play. 
As the twilight falls the players end the game, 
and the feast begins. The edibles are distributed 
into three parts, the men taking their portion 
and going to a selected spot, the women like- 
wise to a point designated for them, and the 
children to a third location. This peculiar ar- 
rangement is not indulged in at any other time, 
but has same ancient significance and is fol- 
lowed at this festival. 
When the feast was over, which consisted af 
the fruits of the chase and the best products of 
the little palmetto-fenced gardens, the band as- 
sembled for the grand hunting dance. Camp- 
fires burned all around the dancing square, and 
as the dusky forms emerged from the shadows 
of the great live oaks, clad as they were in most 
fantastic attire, the scene was most picturesque. 
Women, men and children gathered at the 
council lodge. Yards and yards of brightly- 
colored ribbons floated from the head, neck and 
shoulders of the women, with beads of various 
hues and many pounds in quantity around their 
necks, while beaten silver ornaments fastened on 
their wrists, added to the decoration. The 
