. The fountain of youth. This was the firstreal sweet land we had seen since Cutlers, 336 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH and some swamper had taken advantage of owner had left his coffee pot half-filled onthe edge of the clay furnace and his bars hungunder the shack, so we knew he would return. We stuck up our tent alongside and appro-priated his kitchen utensils and firewood. Ourhasty supper was almost done when I heard anexclamation, and looking out on the duskystream saw a man staring at us from his pi-rogue. He was startled, but we hailed him. Hecame ashore nervously and we introduced our-se
. The fountain of youth. This was the firstreal sweet land we had seen since Cutlers, 336 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH and some swamper had taken advantage of owner had left his coffee pot half-filled onthe edge of the clay furnace and his bars hungunder the shack, so we knew he would return. We stuck up our tent alongside and appro-priated his kitchen utensils and firewood. Ourhasty supper was almost done when I heard anexclamation, and looking out on the duskystream saw a man staring at us from his pi-rogue. He was startled, but we hailed him. Hecame ashore nervously and we introduced our-selves. Ah, yes, the Yankees and the pirogue! Ofcourse he knew! People in Barataria were stillwondering where those two madmen had disap-peared last March when their silk tent wasstruck on Spanish Mans Point at Lake Sal-vador ! Le Nom de Dieu! Where had we been?Grand Isle? In that pirogue? Impossible!And La Fourche and Morgan City? Up the Atchafalaya ? Xo—no, my friends—that cant be! A pirogue could not cross all the.
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Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidfountainofyouth00jack
