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Updated: May 3, 2025
Within a week his dredger had eaten its way through sawgrass, water and muck from the headwaters of the Chokohatchee to Deer Key, digging a broad, main drainage canal through the middle of Payne's thousand acres of drowned land. Higgins' calculations proved themselves in practice, and the big ditch soon drew off the bulk of the surface water on the track.
The shouting of a pair of Sandhill Cranes awakened us at daylight, and, to quote Greene, the warden, the sun was about "two hands high" when we started into the rookery. We crossed a glade two hundred yards wide and then entered the swamp. Progress was slow, for the footing was uncertain and the tall sawgrass cut our wrists and faces.
Two days after his departure Roger and Higgins were measuring the acreage cleared in the elder brush when one of the blacks said suddenly: "Wha' dem man do ovah thah, Boss?" Payne glanced out over the ditched sawgrass land whither the negro was pointing and saw three men carefully picking their way along the spoil banks beside the ditches.
The region itself has an area six times that of the State of Rhode Island, and on account of the difficulty in traversing it is but imperfectly known. Countless winding intricate water channels extend in every direction. Many of these are filled with tall sawgrass which, growing from the bottom, greatly impedes the passage even of small boats.
Roger felt the tough beneath him exerting all his energy. Slowly, surely he felt himself being turned. Then out from the sawgrass came the roar of a rifle, and a heavy slug whined over the gunman's head. Bang! Another shot. Then the voice of Blease, the squatter: "Next shot, I'll hold a foot lower. Throw that gun in the ditch. Throw it, you " Bang! "That's right Now get 'em boys, get 'em!"
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