was psychological therapy that returned happiness. To Dessie, the sports-
woman, it was another splendid lark. The best was surviving Puzzle Lake to
find an idyllic campsite by Lake Harney. They found ‘‘a deserted cabin, gray
and smooth as only cypress weathers. There was no door for its doorway,
or panes or shutters for its windows, but the roof was whole, with lichens
thick across the shingles.’’ Dessie made a fire and Marjorie ‘‘broiled shad
and shad roe over fragrant coals, and French-fried potatoes, and found I
had the ingredients for Tartar sauce.’’ At night they bathed in water from a
bucket, then put on pajamas. ‘‘The moon shone through the doorway and
windows and the light was patterned with the shadows of Spanish moss
waving from the live oaks. There was a deserted grove somewhere behind
the cabin, and the incredible sweetness of orange bloom drifted across us.’’
Next morning, a ‘‘mocking-bird sang from a palm tree at sunrise.’’ Marjorie
hated to leave the spot.
Soon they arrived at Sanford, where the river widens and the channel is
broad and deep. It was Sunday morning, and they tied up next to a yacht
from Long Island. The city marina’s gas station was closed for church, but
the yacht’s owner gave Marjorie, Dessie, and their gas cans a ride in his
limousine into town to an open station. They returned shortly with cans
filled and that day’s New York City newspapers. Off once more, crossing
Lake Monroe (and ignoring their Sunday papers), they spotted ‘‘a white
sand bar and had a swim in water clear as amber.’’ A little earlier Marjorie
had spotted a six-foot-long water moccasin, one with ‘‘a magnificent mot-
tled hide’’ swimming between ‘‘a spider lily and a swamp laurel.’’ There is
no mention or apparent fear of alligators. Later the travelers approached
the giant Lake George toward dark, an awkward time. Looking for a camp,
they spied a shack on poles occupied by unfriendly squatters. Marjorie sort
of wished to stay, anyway, rather than backtrack several miles to an open
but maybe dangerous bank. At the pole-shack, meanwhile, Dessie noticed
that hyacinths gathered thickly around their boat’s stern, and she declared
to her friend, ‘‘I’d rather sleep with a moccasin over each shoulder than get
caught in a hyacinth block.’’ So back they went, and as darkness fell, they
encountered some fishermen who had camped across from their own dark
resort. The men shouted an inquiry: Were they the women who had set out
from Fort Christmas about a week earlier? Watermen had sent word north-
ward, down the river, to look out for the two. Marjorie liked this and wrote
that the men’s ‘‘campfire flickered sociably all night.’’
Next morning they avoided Lake George’s middle (and shortest) channel,
because squalls threatened and that route would have put them out of sight