upon a fine green turtle, which immediately started for the water, making rapid headway.  The honor of turning her was reserved for the writer, who, grasping the shell beneath the flippers, essayed the task.  Her struggles, the flying flippers, and the giving sand verified Sandy’s statement that “turklin’ was wu’k,” and, after several ineffectual attempts, we were forced to cry for help.  The animal was soon upon her back, and proved to be one of the largest size.  “Old an’ tuff,” said Sandy; “but,” he added, “hit’ll be all the same up No’th.”

The boys now proceeeded to cut slits in the flippers and lash them together with rope-yarn, the animal being thus placed hors de combat.  The march was again taken up, and soon another track was found, but the eggs had been laid and the game was gone.  An attempt to find this nest showed the cunning displayed by these clumsy creatures.  Naturally, the nest would be looked for at the end of the incoming track, but at this spot the writer searched fruitlessly, while Sandy looked on in grim satisfaction at his own superior knowledge.  Finally he pointed out the nest forty feet away, and the boys soon produced the soft, crispy eggs as proof of his wisdom.

“Ole turtle jes’ as cunnin’ as coon,” said Sandy, as he nipped one of the eggs and transferred its contents to his capacious mouth.  And, indeed, so it seemed.  Instead of laying directly on reaching the soft sand, the turtle had crawled down the beach and made several holes, finally forming her real nest, smoothing it over so that it could never be distinguished from the rest, and again crawling down the beach before turning toward the water:  thus the nest may be looked for anywhere between the up and down tracks.

Having piled the eggs in a convenient place for transportation in the morning, the march was renewed, and before dawn four turtles were turned, with little or no discomfort, all being green and much lighter than the cumbersome loggerhead that first escaped us.

In the morning the turtles were one by one placed in the dingy and taken aboard the smack, when we set sail for Garden Key, arriving in the snug harbor a few hours later.  It is a curious fact that the long strip of sand to the westward, called Loggerhead Key, is mostly frequented by the turtle of that name, the green turtle rarely going ashore there, preferring East, Sand, and Middle Keys.

The eggs of the turtle are perfectly oval, with the exception of one or two depressions that may occur at any part.  They are hatched probably not by the direct heat of the sun, but by the general temperature of the sand.  The instinct of the young is remarkable.  We have placed young loggerheads barely a day old in a closed room facing away from the water, and they invariably turned in that direction.  During their young life they fall a prey to many predaceous fishes, such as sharks, also to the larger gulls, and only a small percentage of the original brood attains its majority.