erving the slide, drew him
up. And that, I believe, was the first and last attempt to levv on
Lafitte's gold.

But the experience of Pharaoh and the danger of our rambling wrecker
are not the only instances of the wall of waters or the destruction it
causes. Nine days after a storm in the Gulf, a traveler, finding
his way from the salt-pans of Western Louisiana, took a little
fishing-craft. There was that fresh purity in the air and the sea
which follows the bursting of the elements. The numerous "bays" and
keys that indent the shore looked fresher and brighter, and there
was that repentant beauty in Nature which aims to soothe us into
forgetfulness of its recent angry passions. The white-winged sea-birds
flew about, and tall water-fowl stood silently over their shadows like
a picture above and below. The water sparkled with salt freshness, and
the roving winds sat in the shoulder of the sail, resting and riding
to port.

The little bark slipped along the shores and shallows, and in and out
by key and inlet, seeing its shadow on the pure white sand that seemed
so near its keel. The last vestige of the storm was gone, and the
little Gulf-world seemed fresher and gladder for it. The tropical
green grasses and water-plants hung their long, linear, hairlike
sheaths in graceful curves, and patches of willow-palm and palmetto,
in many an intricate curve and involution, made a labyrinth of
verdure. The wild loveliness of the numerous slips and channels, where
never a boat seemed to have sailed since the Indian's water-logged
canoe was tossed on the shadowy banks, was enhanced by the vision of
distant ships, their sails even with the water, or broken by the white
buildings of a sleepy plantation in its bower of fig and olive and
tall moss-clustered pines.

Suddenly the traveler fancied he heard a cry, but the fishermen said
No--it was the scream of water-fowl or the shrill call of an eagle far
above dropping down from the blue zenith; and they sailed on. Again
he heard the distant cry, and was told of the panther in the bush and
wild birds that drummed and called with almost human intonation; and
they sailed on again. But again the mysterious, troubled cry arose
from the labyrinth of green, and the traveler entreated them to go in
quest of it. The fishers had their freight for the market---delay would
deteriorate its value; but the anxious traveler bade them put about
and he would bear the loss.

It was well they did. The