Key Largo Adventures

By Captain Harry 'Mick' Grigsby

A lifelong fisherman, author Harry Mick Grigsby and his wife, Betty, had dreamed of running a fishing resort. That dream became a reality when they purchased the Flamingo Fishing Lodge in Key Largo, Florida, moving from Ohio in 1962. During the next forty-plus years, he guided fishing customers on the Atlantic Ocean and in the backwaters of the Everglades National Park before sections became off limits.

In this memoir, Grigsby narrates an array of adventures as he helped customers from all over the world snag their elusive catches. Key Largo Adventures details his favorite fishing haunts, humorous anecdotes involving his friends and family, the ravages of the weather, and escapades at the local Caribbean Bar.

With photos included, Key Largo Adventures provides a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a fishing charter operator who dedicated more than forty years of his life sharing his passion for angling with others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462030439

Captain Harry 'Mick' Grigsby

Harry “Mick” Grigsby operated the Flamingo Fishing Lodge in Key Largo and guided customers on the Atlantic Ocean and the Everglades National Park’s wilderness for more than forty years. Now retired, he lives in Homestead, Florida. This is his second book.

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Contents

PREFACE

CHAPTER 1

Florida

CHAPTER 2

Homer

CHAPTER 3

Eventful Trip

CHAPTER 4

Key Largo

CHAPTER 5

Flamingo Fishing Lodge

CHAPTER 6

Arrival

CHAPTER 7

Management

CHAPTER 8

Fishing Charters

CHAPTER 9

Having Fun

CHAPTER 10

Bully Netting

CHAPTER 11

My Brother

CHAPTER 12

Landry

CHAPTER 13

Local Creeks

CHAPTER 14

Leon

CHAPTER 15

Mayo’s Marina

CHAPTER 16

The Commissioner

CHAPTER 17

Everglades National Park

CHAPTER 18

Proud Boy

CHAPTER 19

Cross Key Waterway

CHAPTER 20

Gilberts

CHAPTER 21

Backcountry

East Creek

CHAPTER 22

Taylor River

CHAPTER 23

Big Madeira Bay

CHAPTER 24

Birdy

CHAPTER 25

Key Largo Village

CHAPTER 26

Homestead

CHAPTER 27

Barnes Sound

CHAPTER 28

Courtney

CHAPTER 29

Sterling

CHAPTER 30

Kloucheck

CHAPTER 31

Big Dad

CHAPTER 32

Len

CHAPTER 33

Marvin

CHAPTER 34

Marie

CHAPTER 35

Cotton Pickers

CHAPTER 36

Astral Projection

CHAPTER 37

Big Red

CHAPTER 38

The Statue

CHAPTER 39

Hurricane Betsy

CHAPTER 40

The Aftermath

CHAPTER 41

Mysterious Ways

CHAPTER 42

Our New House

CHAPTER 43

Yearning

CHAPTER 44

Blessing, in Disguise

CHAPTER 45

Neighbors

CHAPTER 46

Getting Settled

CHAPTER 47

The Flying Fishermen

CHAPTER 48

Trapping

CHAPTER 49

The Ebsarys

CHAPTER 50

Ocean Reef

CHAPTER 51

The Boss

CHAPTER 52

Gilberts Resort

CHAPTER 53

Herb

CHAPTER 54

The Ogden’s

CHAPTER 55

Blue Claws

CHAPTER 56

Little Warren

CHAPTER 57

The Doers

CHAPTER 58

Tarpon

CHAPTER 59

Joe

CHAPTER 60

Thank You

CHAPTER 61

Boom Town

CHAPTER 62

Florida Keys Fishing

CHAPTER 63

The Environmentalists

CHAPTER 64

Crocodiles

CHAPTER 65

The Crisis

CHAPTER 66

Butch

CHAPTER 67

Progress

CHAPTER 68

Missiles

CHAPTER 69

Paranormal

CHAPTER 70

Steven Foster Inn

CHAPTER 71

Rick

CHAPTER 72

The Outrigger

CHAPTER 73

Killborn

CHAPTER 74

Alan

CHAPTER 75

The Weavers

CHAPTER 76

Paul

CHAPTER 77

The Moellers

CHAPTER 78

Lewis

CHAPTER 79

Steve

CHAPTER 80

Claire

CHAPTER 81

Howard

CHAPTER 82

Armand

CHAPTER 83

Misunderstanding

CHAPTER 84

Robert

CHAPTER 85

Tucker

CHAPTER 86

The Chamber

CHAPTER 87

Rex

CHAPTER 88

Cohan

CHAPTER 89

Noah

CHAPTER 90

The AULTS

CHAPTER 91

Frank

CHAPTER 92

George

CHAPTER 93

Jon

CHAPTER 94

John

CHAPTER 95

Johnny

CHAPTER 96

Snyder

CHAPTER 97

Donald

BAROS

CHAPTER 98

Jerry

CHAPTER 99

‘The Roast’

CHAPTER 100

Finale

PREFACE

Well, enough time has passed and I think I’d better get my book ‘Key Largo Adventures’ published.

In the preface of my first book ‘MICK’—Back When, I promised my readers, I would produce a sequel, to the preceding one.

This narrative will primarily be about my adventures on the Atlantic Ocean and the backcountry of the Everglades National Park.

Back then, where I took my fishermen that chartered me, today you can not enter most of those areas.

The Everglades National Park Service closed a vast area, of the Park, to all boat traffic and fishermen, in an effort to protect the fish, the wildlife and the sub tropical plant life.

My customers came from all over the world and I enjoyed fishing with each and every one of them; in other words, I never met a fisherman, I didn’t like.

The Key Largo era, was one of the greatest periods, of my life; I watched and participated in its growth.

Coincidental, to the time I moved to Key Largo, the island paradise began its grand change, as you will read in the following sequence of events.

I took great pleasure, in meeting and getting acquainted with the many people, who came to enjoy the bountiful pleasures; viewing the flora and fauna, of the Everglades National Park.

Every story in this book is true; I believe, when you are writing a factual narrative, you should represent the facts, as they really are.

I’ll not ramble on; read my book and enjoy it.

Captain Harry ‘Mick’ Grigsby

CHAPTER 1

Florida

Prior to finding our ultimate goal in Key Largo, Betty and I made many trips to Florida; many of these were to the Riviera Beach area, on Singer Island.

Here, we fished out of Bill’s Marina, which was on based on Lake Worth near a pass to the Atlantic Ocean.

My friend Chuck Neuman introduced me to this area and I liked it so well, I towed my boat down there and stored it at Bill’s Marina.

Bill, the owner and I became great friends and I made many trips down there, to fish blue waters, of the Atlantic Ocean.

One trip that stands out in my mind was a day of fishing with Chuck Neuman.

Early one morning Chuck and I left Bill’s Marina and went out through a nearby pass, to a buoy, where we spent some time catching ‘blue runners’.

The small blue runners are a sleek fish that are very strong for their size, which made them attractive sailfish bait.

By the time Chuck and I had enough ‘blue runners’ in our live well, the wind, from the northeast had picked up and the seas were becoming very rough.

Had it been up to me, I would have gone back into Lake Worth, but not so with Chuck. He was going after sailfish and the inclement weather wasn’t going to stop him.

This type of fishing was all new to me; but if Chuck was game, then so was I.

There was no way I could see to travel the long distance where he wanted to fish, but then again, Chuck showed me how to do it.

The northeast wind was so strong that the huge swells were rolling up onto the shore.

Following Chuck’s directions, I would run my boat onto the top of a huge swell and rode it heading northwest.

This way, you felt no rough water. It was smooth going until you got close to the shore.

Then, when you came down off of the huge swell and faced the rough water again you headed northeast into the ocean until you could run up on another big swell, riding it, to continue your way northwards.

When we finally reached the area, where Chuck wished to fish, he had me take a heading due east, which I held, until we reached deeper water.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too far off shore.

Chuck explained to me that the sailfish, during this type of weather, came fairly close to the shore in search of ‘blue runners’ and other bait fish.

We baited our rods with the live ‘blue runners’ and fastened the lines in the out riggers.

Then, when we were all set, with our rods, in their holders, we began a very slow troll.

To make a long story short, we landed and released five sailfish and then we headed home.

Chuck was well acquainted with the area, we were in and to my delight, instead of fighting the rough seas to get home, we went due west and entered a pass, to exit the Ocean at Jupiter.

Here we traveled in comfort; southward, through the Intra Coastal waterway, to Bill’s Marina, on Lake Worth.

The fishing, in the area, just north of Riviera Beach, was great for kingfish and mackerel too, so on another trip, to Florida, Betty and I spent two weeks there, staying at a motel in Juno, which was a short distance north, of Bill’s Marina.

Betty and I caught a lot of the big kingfish and shipped them north, to Chuck, where he had a party, for his factory workers.

When Betty and I, came in from a day of fishing, we would take our catch to the fish house, where they cleaned and iced them down

Then, they shipped the fresh fish, to Chuck, in Spencerville, Ohio.

One day, when I was going fishing, without Betty, I went down to Bill’s Marina to get my boat and try for some kingfish, in the Ocean, south of the pass.

I began putting my tackle aboard the boat, when an elderly fellow, who had been sitting there, on a nearby bench, came over to talk, to me.

He was a nice gentleman, by the name, of Isaac and he seemed to be lonely, so I asked him, if he would like to go out fishing, with me.

Isaac readily, agreed to go, on the fishing trip, so we left the Marina and went out to the Atlantic Ocean, through the nearby pass.

As I exited the pass to the Ocean, I ran a short distance east, to where I turned and set my course south, until we reached an area that had deep water; not far off shore and directly, in front of the Kennedy’s residence.

This particular area was a super spot for kingfish, because there was a deep fissure there; running parallel, to the shore.

I rigged Isaac up with a rod and reel and then we began to troll, southward, over the cleft.

The kingfish were in a biting mode and we had action right away; boating two kingfish, but then, my engine conked out.

I radioed the Coast Guard for help and they were soon there, because their station, was nearby.

The Coast Guardsmen, stopped near my boat and after a few questions, they backed their boat, up to the front of mine, where they could toss me a rope, to tie onto the prow, of my boat.

To tie their rope on to my boat, I had to climb over the windshield; lie down on the deck and reach down to the eyebolt, which was about a foot or so, below the deck.

I climbed over the windshield and laid down, on the deck, with the Coast Guard’s rope in my hand.

Then, as I tried to reach down, to tie the Coast Guard’s rope, to the eyebolt, the old fellow, kept pulling me back, to where I couldn’t reach the eyebolt.

Isaac was afraid that I was going to fall in the Ocean and he had reached across the wind shield; holding me by the ankles.

I twisted my head around and kept yelling at him, to stop pulling me back, but to no avail; he wasn’t going to take any chances.

This crazy scene went on, for some time and the three Coast Guard men, where laughing their heads off; I was the butt, of the joke.

Finally, I managed to jerk my ankles away from Isaac’s hands and tied the rope, onto the eyebolt; then the Coast Guard boat, towed us in, to the Marina.

After I got my boat docked, I had to fill out some papers, for the Coast Guard and then, while the three of Coastguardsmen, were sitting on the benches; Isaac began, to march up and down, in front of them; giving them a talking to, for laughing, at my plight.

Then, after his tirade was over, he handed each one of them a twenty dollar bill and gave them a big smile.

Isaac was a good fellow.

CHAPTER 2

Homer

My first trip to the Florida Keys came in a round about way; I had a close friend in Lima by the name of Homer Sherry, who I did a lot of hunting and fishing with.

As far as I know, all Homer liked to do was hunt, fish, trap fur bearing animals and play poker.

Homer had a son by the name of Dwight, who was a Sergeant in the Air Force;

Dwight and his wife Sparky were stationed in Florida at the Opa-Locka Airfield Base.

Homer and his wife Irene, were going there for a visit and they invited Betty and I and our two girls, Judy and Patti, to go along.

I accepted their offer, but I couldn’t leave, at the same time they were leaving; they were leaving on Tuesday and I would leave Saturday morning.

Both of our trips, to Florida, were eventful, but with different occurrences.

Back then, in the fifties, before the super highways; the roads were narrow and you drove through many small towns, along the way.

Homer, was barreling down the road, through Georgia, during the night, while his wife Irene, was sound asleep, in the back seat of the car.

It was around two o’clock in the morning, with no other traffic and Homer was making good time; he had just passed through, a small village, when suddenly he heard the shrill sound of a siren and then a police car, pulled him over.

Two burly police officers, in uniform, walked up to Homer’s car and sternly told him, to get out of the car; Homer complied and the officer asked to see his driver’s license.

Then, while the officer was examining Homer’s papers, the other officer, was searching through Homer’s automobile.

It looked like Homer was going to get a stiff fine for speeding, but just then, the snoopy officer walked up to them and demanded to know, from Homer, what he had in a bucket, he had found, in the car.

He hadn’t opened it the metal bucket, but he was suspicious, because it had liquid in it.

Then, when they inquisitively opened the bucket and peered inside, they were amazed, to see healthy, live minnows swimming around in the bucket’s clear water.

Then, as they turned to look inquisitively at Homer, he quickly explained that he was going to Florida and he’d brought the minnows along, to do some bass fishing.

It just so happened, the policemen, Homer had met, were two dedicated bass fishermen and they excitedly wanted to know how Homer had kept the minnows alive, during the long trip from Ohio.

With great pride, Homer explained to the two officers that this was a new type bait bucket that created oxygen, as the water moved around in the bucket, during the movement, of the car, as it traveled.

Now, everything is rosy; they talk some more about bass fishing, shake hands and Homer turns to get in the car, when Irene wakes up, rolls down the window and shouts at Homer: Homer, I told you the Georgia cops would get you for speeding!

Hearing this, the two policemen’s mood suddenly changed; with stern frowns on their ruddy faces, they started lecturing Homer again, about speeding.

Finally, Homer was able to calm the two of them down and they let him go; sans the new type bucket and lively minnows.

CHAPTER 3

Eventful Trip

The events of Homer’s trip, south, were quite comical, but not so mine.

Betty and I with our two daughters, Judy and Patti left Lima Saturday afternoon, for our trip, to the sunny state, of Florida.

Due to road construction, we were forced to take a detour that took us, through Louisville, Kentucky.

As we neared Louisville, we were traveling down a two lane road and we were happily talking, about the good times we were going to have, in Florida, when suddenly, a black sedan passed us and then pulled over, in our lane, where he slowed way down, to where I had to lower my speed.

I followed him, for a while, but he kept cutting down on his speed and I assumed that he was having trouble, with his engine, so, I sped up and pulled around him and went back to my previous speed, which I think was sixty miles per hour.

This wasn’t too fast, but it was the speed limit, on that road and it was fast enough, with our children in the car.

We hadn’t traveled too far, when the same fellow passed us again and immediately pulled over, in front of us and slowed down, as he had done previously.

Again, he cut his speed down to about thirty miles per hour and I was getting a bit perturbed, but I passed him again and then went back, to my former speed of sixty.

Shortly thereafter, he pulled in front of me again and slowed up and I’d had enough of his foolishness, so I blew up!

I poured the gas to the Cadillac and headed right at him; he saw, in his rear view mirror that I was going to ram him, so he sped away, as fast as he could go.

I was so mad at his actions, I chased him into Louisville, where he pulled into a Nightclub’s parking lot; as I drove in to area, he jumped out of his car and ran in the front door, of the Club.

The parking lot, was full of cars and I didn’t take time to find a parking space; I parked in front of the Club’s door and ran inside, where I seen him going through a door, in the rear of the Club.

I ran over to the door, where I found that it led outside, to the rear, of the Club, but evidently he knew this building well and by the time I ran back to my car, he was in his car, pulling out of the parking lot.

I hurriedly, got to my car and took up the chase, which luckily. took us south, towards Florida.

Then, after a while, when I was getting close to him, he turned to the left, into large military checkpoint.

I was right behind him, when he left there, but the officer in charge stopped me; telling me, this was the entrance to Fort Knox.

The fellow that I was chasing, either worked there, or was a soldier, because he had to check in, at the gate.

The checkpoint officer asked why I was chasing him and I explained my grievance, to him.

The officer said they would take care of the situation, for me; I thanked him and we continued our journey, south.

The rest of our long trip was uneventful, until we reached southern Georgia.

Around three or four o’clock in the morning, we stopped and gassed the car, at a small town, where they had small, all night restaurant and gas station.

Then, as we were leaving there, an elderly couple, in a new Ford, waved at us, as we passed them.

About an hour, or so later, we came to heavily wooded area, where the two lane road that we were traveling, was merely a path, through tall trees.

The terrain was quite hilly and as we started to ascend, one of the steeper slopes, we saw flashing lights ahead; being waved, near the top of the hill.

I put my headlights, on high beam, where I saw an automobile, parked crossway, in the middle, of the narrow road, which only left a narrow berm of grass, on each side of the paved road.

Standing, at each end of the parked car, was a large black man, waving a long flashlight and shouting at us, to stop!

I had my Colt automatic, in the glove compartment, but stupidly, I had the ammunition, in the trunk.

By now, we are so close to them, I had to take some expeditious action, or we were goners!

I floored the petal on my Cadillac, which threw it into the passing gear and we headed directly, at the big fellow on the left side, of the parked car.

The big man screamed and cursed at me, but wisely, he jumped up on the hood of his car, as I roared by him

As I rapidly passed the parked car, I had just enough room, on the roads berm, to squeeze through; thank heavens!

From then on, to Dwight Sherry’s home, in Opa-Locka, we had no more trouble.

Two or three days later, in the Miami newspaper, there was a story, about an elderly couple that were found, in the Georgia woods; stripped naked and tied to a tree; there car and all of there possessions, were gone.

The two victims were suffering badly, from exposure, but still alive.

It may not have been them, but I do believe, this was the elderly couple that waved to us, as we passed them, on the road.

After, we reached our final destination, at Dwight’s house. Homer and I fished the canals along route 41, where we had wonderful fishing.

Then we found some ponds that were full of fish, but the best spot that we found, during our fishing trip, was a canal running west, from a county road, where they had a few small boats to rent.

Homer and I rented a boat there and caught seventy eight bass; casting lures.

Of course, we released all of them, because we had caught enough to eat, on previous fishing trips.

Then, when we returned to the dock, where we rented the boat, we were amused, to watch two fishermen; having their pictures taken, for the newspaper. Each of the proud fishermen had caught five bass.

That was a long time ago and my memory is good, but I don’t recall, where the super fishing spot was.

I’ve got some thoughts, where it might be and I can picture it in my mind, but so much has changed, over these many years; the terrain wouldn’t look the same, as it did back then.

CHAPTER 4

Key Largo

Dwight, got a day off at the airfield base and he drove Homer and I down the highway U S 1, to the first island in the Florida Keys, which was Key Largo.

Just as you enter the Key Largo area, you must cross a draw bridge that spans Jewfish Creek, which is a part of the inter-coastal waterway.

Dwight crossed the bridge and immediately turned right, where there was a fishing camp called Tommy’s that bordered Jewfish Creek and Blackwater Sound.

We rented a boat, powered by a small outboard motor and fished the area’s creeks and bays, where we caught a plenitude, of various fish, such as trout, snapper, grunts, sheepshead, barracuda and best of all, snook.

It was a great day of angling and we were hooked, on the Keys fishing.

I had fished salt water before, in the Riviera Beach area, but that was mostly, in the Atlantic Ocean.

This fishing was altogether different; we were mostly in sheltered areas, tossing our baits up near the mangrove tree roots, under the shade, of the overhanging limbs.

Here, the waters were calm, due to the protection of the mangrove trees and then too, the tropical plant life was very scenic.

I guess that’s when the bug bit me; I had to move, to the Keys!

Before we left Key Largo, for Dwight’s home, I had a long talk with Tommy; she was a tough old bird, but after we talked for a while, she mellowed up, a bit.

I told her, I was interested in buying a fishing camp and she offered to sell me hers; we dickered a bit, on the price, but finally we came to an agreement.

Then, I explained to her, I was going back home, to Ohio, soon and I might need a partner, to help with the expense and the work, at the fish camp.

Tommy said that was alright with her; if I wanted a partner, so I bid her goodbye and told her that I would keep in touch.

Then, after our vacation in sunny Florida, when we returned home, I went to see a good friend of mine, by the name of George Martin, who owned a small grocery store, near to, where I lived.

I told George about the Keys and the chance I had to purchase Tommy’s Jewfish Creek Fishing Camp.

George was very interested and we planned a trip to Key Largo, to talk to Tommy, about the purchase.

Then, if everything went well, George would sell his store and we would move to Key Largo.

The Camp, could house both of our families, as it had a two story building with a tackle and bait store, plus a small apartment downstairs.

Upstairs, was a large apartment; then too, there was plenty of room to build, if need be.

There was a small restaurant and a house trailer, on the west side of the main building; the lot was very large, encompassing the whole area, on the southeast side of the U.S. 1.

Tommy’s Camp had a long wooden dock and pilings, all around the property.

She had ten rental boats with outboard motors and a houseboat, docked there, in the canal, leading to Blackwater Sound.

On Monday, George had a doctor’s appointment, at five o’clock, for a check up and then, after the check up, he would meet me at Harry Romick’s cigar store, on North Elizabeth Street, where he liked to play cards.

We planned, on leaving Lima, Tuesday morning, for our trip, to Key Largo.

I arrived at the Romick’s cigar store a little early, but George had already left, to go to the doctor’s office.

I waited and waited, but George didn’t show, so I walked over to the Steiner building, where the doctor had his office, but the doctor’s office was closed.

I went back to the cigar store and used their phone, to call George’s house, where I received terrible news; George, wasn’t feeling too well, when he left the doctors office, so he decided to go home, where he had a heart attack and died.

I was upset, for quite a while, after George’s death, but then, after a period of time, I got the yearning, to return to Key Largo.

One day, as I was driving west on Wayne Street, I stopped in at the Teamsters and Truck Drivers office, where my friend Roger Lee was the business agent.

Roger and I had done a lot of fishing together, over the years and he was a good fisherman, but he was very adept at other sports too and he learned quickly, when I taught him to shoot a bow, as you will read, in the following story.

I took Roger and the other business agent, Stub Redinbow, to Michigan, for deer hunting with bow and arrow; neither of them had ever used a bow.

We had a rustic cabin, in the Michigan woods, where I set a pint sized can, on a stump and then stepped off seventy feet, to where I wanted Roger to stand, for practice shots; until he could learn to hit the can.

Roger stood there, where I wanted him to; raised the bow and took careful aim and then, let the arrow fly—dead center, in the can.

Stub and I, stood there in awe, were literally amazed!

I ran down to the stump and set the can up again, for another shot, but by the time I returned, with his arrow, Roger had gone in the cabin.

That’s the only practice shot that Roger would take.

The next day, I was driving alongside of a big woodlot, when I happened to look up on a gentle rise, in the timber; there in a fairly open spot, stood a large buck deer.

I stopped the car and Roger jumped out and ran around, to the back of the station wagon, where he reached in, to get his bow and an arrow.

For some reason, the deer just stood there, ignoring us; probably, because he thought we were to far away, to be a danger.

I thought so myself, but not Roger; again, he took his time, with careful aim and then let the arrow fly.

To the amazement, of Stub and I, the arrow went true, to its mark!

I saw, where the arrow hit the buck and I knew it was a good hit, but the deer; after he had been hit, turned quickly and ran off, into the deep woods.

Roger and Stub were ‘gung ho’, to go after him, but I wouldn’t let them, because I knew, if you chased the deer, you would never get him.

It was already getting dark, so I made them go back to the cabin, where we had supper and did the dishes.

Roger and Stub were still antsy, they wanted to get back, to the woods and find the deer.

So then, when I figured that enough time had elapsed, we got our lights and some supplies, we would need, if we found the wounded deer.

Usually, if we found a deer that had been hit with an arrow, such as this one; he might be dead, or you would have to finish him off.

Then, when you cleaned him, you would need a plastic bag, for the heart and liver; possibly a canteen of water, for washing and cloths, to dry and clean up with.

As a rule, the deer would be too heavy to carry, so you would need a good rope, to drag him, out of the woods, to the car.

The fun, is in the hunting and shooting, but then, comes the work!

When we got back to the place, where Roger shot the deer, we parked the car and used our lights, to find the spot, in the woods, where the deer stood, when Roger’s arrow hit him.

Luckily, we found the spot, where the buck stood, right away, but then, came the job of tracking.

I had done a lot of tracking, over the years, so I knew what to do; Roger and Stub were completely ignorant, of pursuing wounded game.

I found a blood trail and it took us to a deer path, leading deep, into the woods and then, after following spore, for a long distance, it started to lessen and finally it came, to an end; the blood trail stopped about twenty feet, from a fork in the trail.

One trail branched off to the west and the other one angled off, to southeast.

I used my flashlight to search for blood, bits of deer hair, bent weeds; anything that would give us a clue, as to which way the deer went.

While I did this, I told the to eager fellows to stay put, there at the fork, in the trail, while I scouted around, to find which way the buck had gone.

Deer, especially the bucks, are very clever; it’s awfully hard, to outsmart one.

I followed the westerly trail, for a short ways, but I gave that up, when I heard the coyotes, start to howl; down towards the big swamp.

I returned to Roger and Stub and told them, I was going to try the other fork, in the trail, which was down a hill, towards the swamp.

Roger and Stub were getting a bit apprehensive, standing there in the dark; hearing the chilling sound, of the coyotes howl.

Stub, nervously, started to light up a cigarette, but I stopped him, as I explained to him, smoking in the woods was forbidden, due to the danger of forest fires.

Then I took off, down the other trail, towards the swamp; usually, the deer will head that way, for the deeper cover, but when they are wounded, the coyotes and wolves will pull them down.

I traveled quite a distance, along the trail, until I came to another fork and I still couldn’t find any sign, but I chose the path that ran downhill, towards the swamp.

Then, when I reached the bottom of the small hill, I saw a huge tree trunk, across the path, but still no sign of the buck.

When I reached the fallen tree and looked over it, I found the object of my search; there laid the big buck.

I followed the trail, back to my companions and brought them, to the deer, where I watched them, in amusement, as they pawed over the deer

They held the big deer’s head up; to display the large set of antlers, while taking pictures, of each other, with their camera.

This tale is a notable story, of Roger’s successful deer hunt, because, what is so astounding, is the fact that Roger only took two shots, with the bow.

One at a target and one at a