Chapter III: Part 3

Quietly she slipped into the house and upstairs to her own room without disturbing Mrs. Weems.

However, next morning, explanations were in order, and as was to be expected, the housekeeper did not look with approval upon the trip to the swamp.

"Your motives may have been excellent," she told Penny, "but your judgment was very poor. Even with Salt as an escort you shouldn't have gone."

To make amends, Penny stayed close at home that morning, helping with an ironing. At noon when her father came for luncheon, she eagerly plied him with questions about the Danny Deevers case.

"There's nothing new to report," Mr. Parker said. "He's still at large. The _Star_ has posted a $10,000 reward for his capture."

"Ten thousand!" echoed Penny, her eyes sparkling. "I could use that money!"

Mr. Parker carefully laid down his knife and fork, fixing his daughter with a stern gaze.

"You're to forget Danny Deevers," he directed. "Just to make certain you do, I've arranged with Mr. DeWitt to give you a few days' work at the office. Kindly report at one-thirty this afternoon for your first assignment."

"Oh, Dad! Of all times--I had plans!"

"So I figured," her father replied dryly. "Mr. DeWitt, I trust, will keep you busy until after Danny Deevers has been rounded up by the police."

Penny knew that protests were quite useless, for when her father really set down his foot, he seldom changed his mind. At another time, she would have welcomed an opportunity to work at the _Star_ office, but this day she regarded it as nothing less than punishment.

As her father had predicted, Penny was kept more than busy at the office. There were telephones to answer, obituaries to write, wire stories to redo, and a multitude of little writing jobs which kept her chained to a desk.

Penny pounded out page after page of routine copy, her face becoming longer and longer. Whenever the shortwave radio blared, she listened attentively. Never was there any news to suggest that police were even taking an interest in Danny Deevers' escape.

"Oh, they're working hard on the case," Jerry assured her when she talked it over with him. "You'll hear about it in good time."

"Everyone treats me as if I were a child!" Penny complained. "Just wait! If ever I get any more information, I'm keeping it under my hat!"

For two long days she worked and suffered in the newspaper office. Then late one afternoon, Mr. DeWitt beckoned her to his desk.

"You act as if you need a little fresh air," he said. "Take a run over to the Immigration Office. See a man named Trotsell. He'll tell you about a boy who entered this country illegally. They're looking for him now."

"I'll hippety-hop all the way!" Penny laughed, glad to escape from the office.

At the Immigration Building, Mr. Trotsell, an official of brisk manner and crisp speech, gave her the facts of the case in rapid-fire order.

"The boy is only sixteen," he said. "His name is Anthony Tienta and he was befriended by G.I.'s in Europe. Early in the war, his parents were killed. Anthony was put in an orphan's asylum by Fascists. He and another lad escaped to the mountains. For six months they lived in a cave on berries and what they could pilfer."

"Interesting," commented Penny, "but what is your connection with the case?"

"I'm coming to that. When G.I.'s entered Italy, Anthony left his mountain hideout to become a guide. He learned English and later joined an American division as a mascot. When the war ended, Anthony sought permission to come to this country and was turned down repeatedly."

"So he stowed aboard a troopship?"

"Yes, we don't know yet how he eluded Immigration officials in New York. Somehow he slipped into the country. Later he was traced to a farm in Michigan. We were closing in on him, when someone tipped him off and he fled. We know he's somewhere in this state."

"Near here?"

"It's very possible. We thought if a story appeared in the paper, someone who has seen the boy may report to us."

"Do you have a picture of him?"

"Unfortunately, no. He is sixteen, with dark eyes and dark, curly hair. The lad is athletic and very quick witted. His English is fairly good, heavily sprinkled with G.I. slang."

"I'll write the story for you," Penny promised as she arose to leave. "The truth is, though, my sympathy is with Anthony."

"So is mine," replied the official. "However, that does not change the law. He entered this country illegally and must be returned to Italy."

Penny left the office and was midway to the newspaper office when she bumped squarely into her friend, Louise Sidell, who had been downtown shopping.

"Oh, Lou!" she exclaimed. "I called you twice but you weren't at home. Did Bones ever find his way back?"

Louise shook her head. "He never will either. Those men probably kept him on the island. I'm going out there tomorrow."

"To the island?"

"If I can get Trapper Joe to take me. My father says I may offer him twenty-five dollars to help me get Bones back."

"It was entirely my fault, Lou. I'll pay the money."

"You needn't."

"I want to," said Penny firmly. "I've earned a little money the past two days at the newspaper office."

The two girls walked together to the next corner.

"What time are you starting for Trapper Joe's tomorrow?" Penny asked.

"I'd like to leave right after breakfast. Any chance you could take me in your car?"

"I was thinking the same thing," grinned Penny. "It may take a little doing--but yes, I'm sure you can count on me! I'm long overdue for a date myself with Old Man Swamp!"

CHAPTER
13
_INTO THE SWAMP_

By eleven o'clock the next morning, the two girls were on their way to Caleb Corners in Penny's car. Both wore high boots, heavy shirts, and riding breeches, having dressed carefully for the swamp.

"I had one awful time convincing Dad and Mrs. Weems I should make this trip," Penny remarked as they parked the car under a giant oak not far from Trapper Joe's shack on the river creek. "If we hadn't had Bones for an excuse, they never would have allowed me to go."

Louise stared curiously at her chum.

"Why else would we make the trip?" she inquired.

"Oh, we're going there to find Bones," Penny assured her hastily. "But if we should meet Ezekiel Hawkins or whoever was on the island--"

"My parents made it very clear I'm not to go to the island unless Trapper Joe is with us."

"So did my father, unfortunately," sighed Penny.

As the girls approached Trapper Joe's shack, they saw smoke issuing in a straight column from the rear of the premises.

Investigating, they found the old guide roasting a fat turkey on a spit which slowly revolved above a fire of cherry red coals.

"Howdy," the old man greeted them. "You're jest in time fer some victuals."

"Lunch so early?" Louise asked in surprise.

"It hain't breakfast and it hain't lunch," the trapper chuckled. "I eat when I'm hongry, an' right now I feel a hankerin' fer food. Kin I give you a nice turkey leg?"

The girls looked at the delicately browned fowl and wavered.

"I'll fetch you'uns each a plate," the trapper offered.

From the shack he brought two cracked ones and forks with bent tines. To each of the girls he gave a generous helping, saving for himself a large slice of breast.

"What brings ye here today?" he presently asked. "Be ye aimin' to rent my boat again?"

"Providing your services go with it," Penny replied. "We want to search for Louise's dog."

"'Tain't likely you'll ever see him again."

"All the same, we've planned on searching the island thoroughly. Will you take us?"

Trapper Joe tossed away a turkey bone as he observed: "There's cottonmouths on that island and all manner o' varmints."

"That's why we want you to go with us," Penny urged. "We'll be safe with you."

"I hain't so sartain I'll be safe myself," Joe argued. "My gun's been stole. Some thieven scalawag made off with it late last night while I was skinnin' an animal. Left it a-settin' against a post down by the dock. The rascal took my gun and some salted meat I had in a crock!"

"Someone who came from the swamp?" Penny asked quickly.

"'Pears he must o' come from there."

"Could the thief have been one of the Hawkins family?"

"'Tain't likely," the guide replied. "They all got good guns o' their own. Anyhow, the Hawkins' hain't never stooped so low they'd steal from a neighbor."

"Will you take us in your boat?" Louise urged impatiently. "We'll pay you well for your time. If we find Bones, you'll receive an extra twenty-five dollars."

"It hain't the money. Lookin' fer that dog would be like lookin' fer a needle in a haystack."

"You might accidently run into the person who stole your gun," Penny suggested.

"Now, there'd be some sense to that," the trapper said with sudden interest. "I'd like to lay hands on him!"

"Then you'll go?" the girls demanded together.

"'Pears like I will," he said, his leathery face cracking into a smile. "'Tain't smart going into the swamp without a gun, but we kin trust to Providence an' our wits, I calculate."

Pleased that the trapper had consented, the girls leaped to their feet and started toward the skiff which was tied up at the dock.

"Not so fast!" the trapper brought them up short. "We got to take some water and some victuals with us."

"But we're not going far," Louise said in surprise. "We just ate."

"Ye can git mighty hongry and thirsty, rowin' in a broiling hot sun. When I go into the swamp, I always takes rations along jest in case."

"Surely you don't expect to lose your way," Penny said teasingly. "An old timer like you!"

"I'm an old timer 'cause I always prepares fer the wust," the trapper retorted witheringly. "Many a young punk's give his life being show-off and foolhardy in that swamp. I was lost there oncst years ago. I hain't never forgot my lesson."

Properly put in their places, Penny and Louise said no more as Trapper Joe prepared for the trip into the swamp. He wrapped the remains of the turkey in a paper, depositing it in a covered metal container in the bottom of the skiff.

Also, he dropped in a jug of water and an extra paddle.

"Tell us about the swamp," Louise urged as they finally shoved off. "Is it filled with wild and dangerous animals?"

"Bears mostly been killed off," the old trapper replied, sending the skiff along with powerful stabs of the oars. "The rooters are about the wust ye run into now."

"Rooters?" Louise repeated, puzzled.

"Wild hogs. They got a hide so tough even the rattlers can't kill 'em. It's most likely yer dogs been et by one."

"Oh, no!" Louise protested in horror.

"Rooters'll go straight fer a dog or a deer or a lamb. They'll attack a man too if they're hongry enough. Their tusks are sharp as daggers."

Penny quickly changed the subject by asking Trapper Joe if he thought Pretty Boy Danny Deevers might be hiding in the swamp.

"'Tain't likely," he replied briefly.

"Why do you think not?"

"City bred, waren't he?"

"That's what I was told."

"No city bred feller could live in the swamp many days. He wouldn't have sense enough to git his food; at night the sounds would drive him crazy, and he'd end up bein' bit by a snake."

"Yet someone stole your gun," Penny reminded him.

"It waren't Danny," said the old trapper with finality.

The skiff glided on. As the sun rose high overhead pouring down upon their backs, Penny and Louise began to feel drowsy. Repeatedly, they reached for Joe's jug of water.

As the channel became congested with floating plants and rotted logs, the trapper shipped the oars and used a paddle.

Presently they came within view of Lookout Island. In the bow, Penny leaned forward to peer at the jungle-like growth which grew densely to the water's edge.

"Someone's on the island!" she exclaimed in a low voice.

"Sure, it's Coon Hawkins doin' a little fishin'," agreed the trapper. "His boat's pulled up on the point."

Louise stirred uneasily. "Is anyone with him?" she whispered.

"Don't see no one 'cepting Coon. He won't hurt ye. Harmless, ole Coon is, an' mighty shiftless too."

"But is Coon really fishing?" Penny demanded suspiciously.

"He's got a pole and a string o' fish."

"Also, he's watching us very closely," whispered Penny. "I don't trust him one bit! He's hiding something on that island! I'll be surprised if he doesn't try to keep us from landing."

CHAPTER
14
_A CODE MESSAGE_

The old trapper appeared not to have heard Penny's whispered observation. He paddled the skiff on until it drifted within ten yards of the point where Coon Hawkins sat fishing.

"Howdy!" called the trapper.

"Howdy," responded Coon, his gaze on the bobbing cork.

"Seen anything of a dog on the island?"

"Hain't no animal hereabouts," Coon replied.

"'Pears like the gals has lost a dog," said the old trapper, dipping his paddle again. "We're landin' to have a look around."

Coon's gaze shifted from the cork to the party in the boat. He scowled and then coldly turned his back.

"Suit yerself," he said indifferently. "You won't find no dawg here."

Trapper Joe beached the skiff very nearly where Penny had landed a few days earlier.

"Have a keer," he advised as the girls trod through the muck. "Watch out fer snakes."

"Here are Bones' tracks!" Louise cried a moment later, spying the prints which led away from the shore.

A short distance in, the tracks abruptly ended, but nearby were prints of a man's shoe and larger ones made from a heavy boot.

Trapper Joe noted them in silence, signaling for Penny and Louise to make no comment.

"Wait here while I look around," he instructed.

Penny and Louise sat down on a mossy log to wait. Coon paid them no heed, completely ignoring their presence. The sun climbed higher overhead.

Presently the old trapper returned, his clothing soaked with perspiration.

"Did you see anything of Bones?" Louise asked eagerly.

"Nary a sign. The dog hain't on the island."

"Told ye, didn't I?" Coon demanded triumphantly.

"That ye did, son," agreed Trapper Joe. "We'll be gittin' along." On his way to the skiff, he asked carelessly: "Come here offen, do ye?"

"When I feels like it," Coon retorted.

"Fishin' good?"

"Fair to middlin'."

The old trapper helped the girls into the skiff and shoved off.

"Please, must we turn back now?" Louise asked earnestly. "I hate to return without finding a trace of poor old Bones."

"'Tain't likely you'll ever see the dog again."

"We realize that," said Penny, "but it would be a satisfaction to keep looking."

"If the dog was still alive, it hain't likely he'd of swum away from the island."

"He could have been carried," Penny said, keeping her voice low.

The swamper stared steadily at her a moment, saying nothing.

"Besides, we'd like to go deeper into the swamp just to see it," Penny urged, sensing that he was hesitating. "It must be beautiful farther in."

"It is purty," the old guide agreed. "But you have to be mighty keerful."

"Do take us," Louise pleaded.

The old trapper raised his eyes to watch a giant crane, and then slowly turned the skiff. As he sought a sluggish channel leading deeper into the swamp, Penny noticed that Coon Hawkins had shifted his position on the point, the better to watch them.

The skiff moved on into gloomy water deeply shadowed by overhanging tree limbs. Only then did Penny ask the trapper what he thought really had happened to Louise's dog.

"'Tain't easy to say," he replied, resting on the paddle a moment and taking a chew of tobacco.

Penny sensed that the old man was unwilling to express his true opinion. He stared moodily at the sluggish water, lost in deep thought.

"The Hawkins' are up to something!" Penny declared. She was tempted to reveal what she and Salt had seen a few nights before on the swamp road, but held her tongue.

"After all, what do I know about Joe?" she reflected. "He may be a close friend of the Hawkins family for all his talk about them being a shiftless lot."

Penny remained silent. Sensing her disappointment because he had not talked more freely, Trapper Joe presently remarked:

"You know, things goes on in the swamp that it's best not to see. Sometimes it hain't healthy to know too much."

"What things do you mean?" Penny asked quickly.

Old Joe however, was not to be trapped by such a direct question.

"Jest things," he returned evasively. "Purty here, hain't it?"

The guide was now paddling along a sandy shore. Overhead on a bare tree branch, two racoons drowsed after their midday meal.

"In this swamp there's places where no man has ever set foot," the guide continued. "Beyond Black Island, in the heart o' the swamp, it's as wild as when everything belonged to the Indians."

"How does one reach Black Island?" Louise inquired.

"Only a few swampers that knows all the runs would dast go that far," said Old Joe. "If ye take a wrong turn, ye kin float around fer days without findin' yer way out."

"Is there only one exit--the way we came in?" Penny asked.

"No, oncst ye git to Black Island, there's a faster way out. Ye pick yer way through a maze o' channels 'till ye come to the main one which takes ye to the Door River."

"You've made the trip?"

"Did when I was young. Hain't been to Black Island in years lately."

"How long does the trip take?"

"Not many hours if ye know the trail. But if ye take a wrong twist, y'er apt to wind up anywheres. We're headin' toward Black Island now."

"Then why not go on?" cried Penny eagerly. "It's still early."

The old guide shook his head as he paddled into deeper water. "It's jest a long, hard row and there hain't nothin' there. I'm takin' ye to a place where some purty pink orchids grow. Then we'll turn back."

Penny suddenly sat up very straight, listening intently.

From some distance away came a faint, metallic pounding sound.

"What's that noise?" she asked, puzzled.

The old trapper also was listening alertly.

Again the strange noise was repeated. Bing-ping-ping! Ping-ping!

"It sounds like someone pounding on a sheet of metal!" exclaimed Penny. "I'd say it's coming from the edge of the swamp--perhaps Lookout Island!"

The trapper nodded, still listening.

Again they heard the pounding which seemed in a queer pattern of dots and dashes.

"It's a code!" Penny declared excitedly. "Perhaps a message is being sent to someone hiding here in the swamp!"

"In all the times I've been in these waters, I never before heard nothin' like that," the guide admitted. "I wonder--"

"Yes?" Penny prodded eagerly.

But the old guide did not complete the thought. The boat now was drifting in a narrow run where boughs hung low over the water, causing the three occupants to lean far forward to avoid being brushed.

A tiny scream came from Louise's lips. The bow of the skiff where she sat had poked its nose against a protruding tree root.

Within inches of her face, staring unblinkingly into her eyes, was a large, ugly reptile!

CHAPTER
15
_BEYOND THE BOARDWALK_

"Steady! Steady!" warned the old swamper as Louise shrank back in horror from the big snake. "Don't move or he'll strike!"

Digging his paddle into the slimy bed of the narrow run, Trapper Joe inched the skiff backwards. Should the boat jar against the tree root, he knew the snake almost certainly would strike its poisonous fangs into Louise's face.

"Hurry!" she whispered.

Slowly the skiff moved backwards through the still water, until at last it lay at a safe distance. The snake had not moved from its resting place.

Now that the danger was over, Louise collapsed with a shudder.

"You saved me!" she declared gratefully.

"It weren't nothin'," he replied as he sought another run. "There's thousands o' varmints like him in this swamp."

"And to think Penny and I dared come here by ourselves the other day! We didn't realize how dangerous it was!"

The incident had so unnerved both of the girls, that some minutes elapsed before they recalled the strange pounding sound which had previously held their attention.

"I don't hear it now," Penny said, listening intently. "Just before we ran into that snake, you were about to say something, Joe."

The guide stopped paddling a moment. "Was I now?" he asked. "I don't recollect."

"We were talking about the strange noise. You said you never had heard anything like it before in the swamp. Then you added--'I wonder--'"

"Jest a-thinkin'," Joe said, picking up the paddle once more. "One does a lot o' that in the swamp."

"And not much talking," rejoined Penny, slightly annoyed. "What do you think made the noise?"

"Couldn't rightly say."

Realizing it was useless to question the old man further, Penny dropped the subject. However, she was convinced that Joe had at least a theory as to the cause of the strange pounding sound.

"He knows a lot he isn't telling," she thought. "But I'll never get a word out of him by asking."

If Joe were unwilling to discuss the signal-like tappings, he showed no reluctance in telling the girls about the swamp itself.

Wild turkey, one of the wariest fowls in the area, could be found only on the islands far interior, they learned. Although there were more than a dozen species of snakes, only three needed to be feared, the rattlers, the coral snake, and the cottonmouth.

"Ye have to be keerful when yer passin' under tunnels o' overhanging limbs," Old Joe explained. "Sometimes they'll be hangin' solid with little snakes."

"Don't tell us any more," Louise pleaded. "I'm rapidly losing enthusiasm for this place!"

"Snakes mostly minds their own business 'less a feller goes botherin' 'em," Trapper Joe remarked. "Too bad more folks ain't that way."

The boat floated on, and the heat rising from the water became increasingly unpleasant. Penny mopped her face with a handkerchief and considered asking the old man to turn back.

Before she could speak, Joe who had been peering intently at the shore, veered the skiff in that direction.

"Are the orchids here?" Louise asked in surprise.

Old Joe shook his head. "Jest want to look at something," he remarked.

He brought the skiff to shore, and looking carefully about for snakes, stepped out.

"May we go with you?" asked Penny, whose limbs had become cramped from sitting so long in one position.

"Kin if yer a mind to, but I only aim to look at that dead campfire."

"A campfire?" Penny questioned. "Where?"

The old trapper pointed to a barren, dry spot a few feet back from the water's edge, where a circle of ashes and a few charred pieces of wood lay.

"Why, I hadn't noticed it," Penny said. Wondering why the trapper should be interested in a campfire, she started to ask, but thought better of it. By remaining silent, she might learn--certainly not if she inquired directly.

Trapper Joe gazed briefly at the camp-site, kicking the dead embers with the toe of his heavy boot.

"Thet fire hain't very old--must have been built last night," he observed.

"By a swamper, I suppose," said Penny casually. "One of the Hawkins' family perhaps."

"It hain't likely they'd be comin' here after nightfall. An' that fire never was built by a swamper."

"Then a stranger must be hiding in the area!" Penny cried. "Danny Deevers!"

"Maybe so, but Danny was city-bred and never could survive long in the wilds. One night here would likely be his last."

"Supposing someone who knew the swamp were helping him?"

"Thet would make it easier, but it weren't Danny Deevers who built this fire."

"How can you be so positive?"

"Deevers was a big man, weren't he?"

"Why, fairly large, I guess."

"Then would he be leavin' little tracks?" Joe pointed to several shoeprints visible in the soft muck. "This man, whoever he be, didn't have anyone campin' with him. Leastwise, there hain't no tracks except from the one kind o' shoe."

"I guess you're right," agreed Penny, disappointed to have her theory exploded. "I wonder who did camp here?"

"I'm a-wonderin' myself," replied the old trapper. "If it's the feller thet stole my gun, I'd like pow'ful well to catch up with him."

Joe inspected the ground for some distance inland, satisfying himself that no one was about. As they returned to the boat, he said thoughtfully:

"Not in years heve I been as far as Black Island, but I've got an itch to go there now."

"Good!" chuckled Penny. "I want to see the place myself."

"It's a long, hard row. I couldn't rightly take you'uns."

"Why not?"

"Fer one thing, I hain't sure what I'll find at the island."

"All the better," laughed Penny.

But the old trapper was not to be persuaded. "The trip ain't one fer young'uns. Likewise, with three in a boat, it's hard goin'. Part o' the way, the run's so shallow, ye have to pole."

"In a polite way, he's telling us we're excess baggage," Louise said, grinning at Penny. "To me it sounds like a long, hot trip."

"I kin go another day," said the trapper. "There hain't no hurry."

"But you're well on your way there now," Penny remarked. "How long would it take to go and return here--that is, if you went alone?"

"Two hours if I made it fast."

"Then why not go?" Penny urged generously. "Isn't there somewhere Louise and I could wait?"

"Without a boat?" Louise interposed in alarm.

"I hain't suggestin' ye do it," said the old trapper. "But there is a safe place ye could wait."

"Where?" asked Penny.

"On the plank walk."

"Does it extend so far into the swamp?"

"This is a section of an old walk that was put in years ago," Joe explained. "It used to hook up with the planking at the entranceway, but it went to pieces. Folks never went to the trouble to rebuild this section."

"All right, take us there," Penny urged, ignoring Louise's worried frown. "If we're above the water, we should be safe enough."

The old trapper rowed the girls on a few yards to a series of shallow bays where water lilies and fragrant pink orchids grew in profusion. As they drew in their breath at the beautiful sight, he chuckled with pleasure.

"Purty, hain't it?" he asked. "Gatherin' posies should keep ye busy for awhile. The boardwalk's right here, and goes on fer quite a spell before it plays out. If ye stay on the walk, you'll be safe until I git back."

Louise gazed with misgiving at the old planks which were decayed and broken. As she and Penny alighted, the boards swayed at nearly every step.

"I'll pick ye up right here, soon's I can," the old guide promised. "If ye keep to the shade, ye won't git so much sunburn."

"What if you shouldn't get back before nightfall," Louise said nervously. "Wouldn't we be stranded here?"

"I'll git back."

"Where does the walk lead?" Penny asked.

"Nowheres in particular any more. Ye'd best not foller it far. Jest wait fer me purty close here, and I'll be back soon's I kin."

Reaching into the bottom of the skiff, the trapper tossed a parcel of lunch to Penny.

"Here's some meat if ye git hongry while I'm gone. Mind ye stay on the planks!"

With this final warning, Joe paddled away and soon was lost to view behind the tall bushes.

CHAPTER
16
_TREED BY A BOAR_

Left to themselves, Penny and Louise walked a few steps on the sagging planks which had been nailed to tree stumps. The boards beneath them creaked protestingly and dipped nearly into the water.

"We must have been crazy!" Louise exclaimed. "We'll die of boredom waiting here. Two hours too!"

"It is a long time."

"And if Joe shouldn't come back, we're stranded--absolutely stranded."

"We did take a chance, Louise, but I'm sure Joe can be trusted."

"He seems all right, but what do we really know about him?" Louise argued. "If anything queer is going on here in the swamp, he may be mixed up in it!"

"I thought about that," Penny admitted. "Anyway, if we're to learn anything, we had to take a certain amount of chance. I'm sure everything will be all right."

Slowly they walked on along the rickety planks, now and then bending down to pluck a water lily. Louise quickly jerked back her hand as a water snake slithered past.

"Ugh!" she gasped. "Another one of those horrid things!"

Interested to learn where the planks led, the girls followed the bridge-like trail among the trees. Louise, however, soon grew tired. As they presently came to a stump which offered a perfect resting place, she sat down.

"This is as far as I'm going," she announced.

"But we have lots of time to explore, Louise. Don't you want to learn where this boardwalk goes?"

"Not at the risk of falling into the water! At any rate, I'm tired. If you want to explore, go on alone. I'll wait for you here."

Penny hesitated, reluctant to leave her chum alone.

"Sure you won't mind, Louise?"

"I'd much rather wait here. Please go on. I know you'll never rest until you reach the end of the walk."

Thus urged. Penny, with the package of lunch still tucked under her arm, picked her way carefully along.

The board path curved on between the trees for some distance only to end abruptly where boards had rotted and floated away. After a break of several yards, the walk picked up again for a short ways, but Penny had no intention of wading through water to follow it further.

Pausing to rest before starting back, she noticed beyond the water oaks a narrow stretch of higher land covered with dense, wild growth. Above the trees a huge buzzard soared lazily.

"Ugly bird!" she thought, watching its flight.

Penny was about to turn and retrace her steps, when she noticed something else--footsteps in the muck not far from the end of the boardwalk.

"Someone has been here recently," she reflected. "Those prints must have been made since the last rain."

Even from some distance away. Penny could see that the shoemarks were small ones.

"Probably the person who made them is the same fellow who built the campfire," she thought. "Wonder where the footprints lead?"

Penny tried to draw her eyes away, but the footprints fascinated and challenged her. She longed to investigate them further. However, she had not forgotten Trapper Joe's warning that it was unsafe to leave the boardwalk.

"If I watch out for snakes and only go a short ways, what harm can it do?" she reasoned.

A moment more and Penny was off the walk, treading her way cautiously along the muddy bank. She paused to listen.

All was very quiet--so still that it gave the girl an uneasy feeling, as if she were being watched by a multitude of hostile eyes.

The footprints led to a large tree in a fairly open area. On one of the low, overhanging bushes, a bit of dark wool had been snagged.

"Someone climbed up there either to rest or sleep," Penny thought.

In the bushes close by, the girl heard a faint, rustling sound.

"Who's there?" she called sharply.

No one answered. All was still for a moment. Then again she heard the whisper of disturbed leaves.

Penny's flesh began to creep. Suddenly losing all interest in the footprints, she decided to beat a hasty retreat to the boardwalk.

The decision came too late. Before she could move, a dozen big rooters led by an old gray boar, swarmed out of the bushes, surrounding her.

Too frightened and startled to cry out, Penny huddled back against the tree trunk. The rooters had spread out in a circle and slowly were coming closer.

Retreat to the safety of the boardwalk was completely cut off. The leader of the pack now was so near that she plainly could see his razor-sharp ivory tusks. In another moment, the animal would attack.

Throwing off the paralysis of fear which gripped her, Penny swung herself into the lowermost branch of the big trees. The package of lunch she had carried, dropped from her hand, falling at the base of the trunk.

Instantly, the rooters were upon it, tearing savagely at the meat and at each other. Sick with horror, Penny clung desperately to the tree limb.

"If I slip now, I'm a gonner!" she thought. "Those rooters are half starved. If I fall, they'll attack me!"

Penny considered shouting for Louise, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Her chum probably was too far away to hear her cries. If she did come, unarmed as she was, she might leave the boardwalk only to endanger herself.

"Louise can't help me," Penny told herself. "I brought this on myself by not heeding Old Joe's warning. Now it's up to me to get out of the mess the best way I can."

The girl lay still on the limb, trying not to draw the attention of the rooters. Once they finished the meat, she was hopeful they would go away. Then she could make a dash for the walk.

Grunting and squealing, the rooters devoured the meat and looked about for more. To Penny's relief, they gradually wandered off--all except the old boar.

The leader of the pack stayed close to the big tree, eyeing the girl in the tree wickedly. Even in the dim light she could plainly see his evil little eyes and working jaws.

"Go away you big brute!" she muttered.

Penny's perch on the limb was a precarious one and her arms began to ache from the strain of holding on. Unsuccessfully, she tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

"I may be treed here for hours!" she thought. "Can I hold on that long?"

The old boar showed no disposition to move off, but kept circling the tree. It seemed to the now desperate Penny, that the animal sensed she was weakening and only awaited the moment when she would tumble down to the ground.

Breaking off a small tree branch she hurled it defiantly at the boar. The act caused her to lose her balance. Frantically, she clawed for a foothold but could not obtain it. Down she slipped to the base of the tree.

The old boar, quick to see his opportunity, charged. With a scream of terror, Penny leaped aside and the animal rushed past, squealing in rage at having missed his prey.

Even now, the boar stood between the girl and the plank walk. The tree from which she had fallen, offered her only refuge, and as she measured her chances, she realized that the probability of regaining the limb was a slim one.

The boar had turned and was coming for her again.

But at that instant, as Penny froze in terror, a shot was fired from somewhere in the bushes behind her. The bullet went straight and true, stopping the boar in his tracks. He grunted, rolled over, twitched twice, and lay still.

CHAPTER
17
_RESCUE_

With a sob of relief, Penny whirled around to thank her rescuer. Through the thick leaves of the bushes she could see the shadowy figure of a man. But even as she watched, he retreated.

"Wait!" the girl cried.

There was no answer, and before she could call out a word of thanks for deliverance, the man had vanished.

His disappearance reminded her that though she had been snatched from the jaws of death, the danger by no means was over. At any moment the herd of rooters might return to attack.

Turning, Penny ran swiftly to the planked walk, in her haste not watching where she stepped. Her boots sank deeply in muck. Once on the planks well above the water level, she paused to catch her breath, and to gaze searchingly toward the bushes. All now was still.

"Who could my rescuer have been?" she mused. "Why didn't he wait for me to thank him?"

Penny called several times but received no reply. Finally, giving up, she started slowly back along the walk toward the bay where she had left Louise.

More than the girl realized, the adventure had unnerved her. She felt weak all over, and several times as she gazed steadily at the water, became dizzy and nearly lost her balance.

"Guess I'm not tough enough for swamp life," she reflected. "If ever I get out of here in one piece, I'm tempted to forget Danny Deevers and let the police do all the searching."

Footsteps became audible on the boardwalk some distance away.

Every sense now alert to danger, Penny halted to listen.

Someone was coming toward her, moving swiftly on the creaking planks.

"Penny!" called an agitated voice.

Penny relaxed as she knew that it was her chum. "Louise!" she answered, running to meet her.

Rounding a clump of bushes, and walking gingerly on the narrow boards, Louise stopped short as she beheld her friend.

"Why, you're as white as a ghost!" she exclaimed. "And I distinctly heard you shout! What happened? Did you see a snake?"

"A snake would be mild compared to what I've been through. Were you ever eaten alive?"

"Not that I recall."

"Well, I escaped it by the skin of my teeth," Penny said, rather relishing the adventure now that the story made such good telling. "I was saved by a mysterious stranger!"

Louise gazed at her chum anxiously and reached out to touch her forehead. "You're hot and feverish," she insisted. "This trip has been too much for you."

"I'm as cool as a piece of artificial ice!" Penny retorted. "Furthermore, I'm not touched by the heat!"

"Well, something is wrong with you."

"I've just had the fright of my life, that's all. If you'll give me a chance, I'll tell you what happened."

"The stage is all yours, sweet. But don't give me any tall tale about being rescued by a Prince Charming disguised as a frog!"

Penny's lips compressed into a tight line. "I can see you'll never believe the truth, Lou. So I'll prove it to you! Come with me, and I'll show you the animal that nearly made mince meat of me."

Treading single file, the girls returned the way Penny had come, to the end of the planks.

"Look over at the base of that big tree," Penny instructed, pointing. "What do you see?"

"Nothing."

"The boar that was shot--why, it should be there!" Penny scarcely could believe the sight of her own eyes. "But it's gone!"

"It's gone because it never was there. Penny, you're suffering from too much heat."

"I'm not! Neither am I imagining things! That old boar was there ten minutes ago. Either he came back to life and went off, or someone dragged him away."

"And your mysterious rescuer?" Louise teased. "What became of him?"

"I wish I knew! Lou, I'm not imagining any of this! Surely you must have heard the shot?"

"Well, I did hear something that sounded like one."

"Also, the lunch is gone. All that remains of it, is the paper lying over there by the tree."

"I do see a newspaper," Louise conceded.

"And that broken tree branch lying on the ground? I was up the tree and threw it at the boar. That's how I lost my balance and fell."

Louise now was convinced the story had solid foundation. "Start from the beginning," she urged.

Penny related what had occurred, rather building up the scene in which she had been delivered from death by the bullet shot from behind a bush.

"Whoever the man is, he must be somewhere close by," Louise said when she had finished. "Perhaps we can find him."

"Not a chance! He's deliberately hiding. Besides, I know better than to leave the walk again. It's dangerous!"

"In that case we may as well go back and wait for Joe," Louise said.

Treading their way carefully, the girls returned to the far end of the boardwalk. To their surprise, they saw a boat approaching.

"Why, it looks like Joe in the skiff!" Penny commented. "But he isn't due back for a long while yet."

Watching the oncoming boat for a moment, Louise said: "It's Joe all right, and he's coming fast. Something must be wrong."

Soon the guide brought the skiff alongside the sagging boardwalk.

"I heard a shot and started back," he explained. "I sure am glad to see both o' ye safe."

Before Penny could do so, Louise told Joe what had befallen her chum.

"Ye could have been kilt by that old boar," he said soberly. "It was the package o' meat that drew them rooters to the tree. They hain't likely to attack a human lest they're half starved."

"I wish I knew who saved me," Penny said. "Could it have been one of the Hawkins' boys?"

"From the sound, I'd say that shot weren't fired from their rifles. More'n likely it came from my own gun!"

"The stolen one?"

"That's what I'm a-thinkin'. If I could see the bullet that was fired, I could tell fer sure."

"The boar disappeared and the bullet with him," Penny said. "That's another queer thing."

"Whoever kilt the critter may have drug him off, or maybe the animal was only stunned." The guide squinted at the lowering sun. "I'd like powe'ful well to see the place, but it's gitten late. We gotta git back."

"What did you learn at Black Island?" Louise asked as she and Penny climbed into the skiff.

"Never got half way there," the guide said in disgust. "Since I went in last time, the main channel's clogged thick with hyacinths. To find yer way in now's a half day's job."

"Can't we try again tomorrow?" Penny asked eagerly.

The old guide gazed at her quizzically as he dipped his paddle. "Hain't ye had enough o' the swamp after today, young'un?"

"When that old boar came for me, I told myself if ever I got safely away, I'd never come again. But that was only a passing impulse. Black Island interests me."

"It's the most dangerous part of the swamp."

"Because of wild animals, you mean?"

"There's lots wuss things than animals," said the old guide soberly.

"For instance?"

Trapper Joe ignored Penny's question. Becoming as one deaf, he propelled the skiff with powerful strokes.

Penny waited patiently, but the guide showed no inclination to say more about Black Island.

"Shall we make it tomorrow?" she inquired presently.

"Make what?" Joe's wrinkled face was blank.

"Why, I mean, shall we visit Black Island!"

"I hate to disappoint ye, but we hain't a-goin'."

"You may be busy tomorrow. Later in the week perhaps?"

"Not tomorrer nor never. I hain't takin' the responsibility o' bringin' ye young'uns into the swamp agin."

"But why?" wailed Penny. "I wish now I hadn't told you about that old boar!"

"It hain't the boar that's got me worried."

"Then you must be afraid of something on Black Island--something you learned today and are keeping to yourself!"

"Maybe that's it," returned Joe briefly. "Anyhow, we hain't goin'. And it won't do no good to try coaxin' me with yer female wiles. My mind's made up!"

Having delivered himself of this ultimatum, the guide plied his paddle steadily.

The set of his jaw warned Penny it would be useless to tease. With a discouraged sigh, she settled down into the bottom of the skiff to think.

CHAPTER
18
_WANTED--A GUIDE_

Since the eventful trip to the swamp, several days now had elapsed, and from Penny's viewpoint, nothing of consequence had happened.

Each day the _Riverview Star_ carried a story giving details of the police search for Danny Deevers, and on each succeeding morning the account became shorter, with less new information.

Twice, it was rumored police were closing in on the escaped convict, and twice the rumor proved false.

At the request of Salt Sommers and Jerry Livingston, posses made several searches of the outer swamp area. However, no trace of the missing man was found, and investigators quickly switched their activities elsewhere.

Spurred by the _Star's_ reward offer, clues, anonymous and otherwise, came to both the newspaper and police officials. All proved worthless.

"It begins to look as if Danny has pulled out of this territory," Mr. Parker remarked to Penny late one afternoon as she sat in his office at the plant. "At least he's made no further attempt to carry out his threat against Jerry."

"Maybe he's only lying low and waiting until the police search cools off a little."

"Quite possible," the publisher agreed, frowning as he fingered a paperweight. "In that case, Jerry is in real danger. I'll never feel entirely easy in my mind until Deevers is behind bars again."

"Speaking of me, Chief?" inquired a voice from the doorway.

Jerry stood there, a long streamer of pasted copy paper in his hand. He had written a story of a political squabble at city hall, and needed Mr. Parker's approval before handing it over to the typesetters.

The publisher quickly read the article, pencilled an "okay" at the top, and returned it to the reporter.

"Good stuff, Jerry," he approved. "By the way, any news of Danny Deevers?"

"Nothing new."

"Jerry, I can't help feeling he's hiding either in the swamp or somewhere close by," Penny interposed eagerly. "At least something queer is going on out there."

"That's what Salt thinks. We were out there last night."

"In the swamp?" Penny asked, caught by surprise.

"Not in it, but near the Hawkins' place."

"What did you learn, Jerry?"

"Frankly, nothing. You remember that swamp road where you and Salt saw the truck?"

"Yes, of course."

"We watched there for quite awhile around midnight."

"Did you see the truck stop there again?"

"No, but we thought we saw a couple of men at the edge of the swamp--apparently waiting for someone. We tried to sneak up close, but I'm afraid we gave ourselves away. Anyway, they vanished back among the trees."

"Did you notice or hear anything else unusual, Jerry?"

"Well, no. Not unless you'd call pounding on a dishpan out of the ordinary."

"A dishpan!" Penny exclaimed. "Who did it?"

"We couldn't tell. Salt and I heard the sound soon after we had passed the Hawkins' place on our way toward the swamp."

"What sort of sound was it?"

"Just a metallic tap-tap-tap. It may not have been on a dishpan."

"Were the taps in code, Jerry?"

"Couldn't have been a very complicated one for the pounding only lasted a minute or two. It was irregular though."

"Then I'm sure it was a code!" Penny cried. "Louise and I heard the same sound when we were with Trapper Joe in the boat!"

"Did the noise come from outside the swamp?"

"Inside, I'd say."

"Then we may not have heard the same thing. The pounding noise Salt and I noticed, came from the direction of the Hawkins' farm. It may have had no significance."

Before Jerry could say more, Editor DeWitt called him to the copy desk. Mr. Parker turned again to his daughter.

"Penny, if I were you, I'd try to forget Danny Deevers," he advised. "Whatever you do, don't go into the swamp again unless you're with Joe or another guide. Better still, don't go at all."

"Oh, Dad!"

"No good can come of it. Do I have your promise, Penny?"

"But I feel I should try to recover Louise's dog!"

"We'll buy her a new pet."

"It won't be Bones."

"The chance that the dog ever will be found is slim," Mr. Parker said. "In any case, he's not worth the risk of trying to find him. Your promise, Penny?"

"That I won't go in without a guide?" she asked, seizing upon the lesser of two evils. "All right, I promise."

The next day it rained, keeping Penny closely confined at home. However, the following morning gave promise of being sunny and pleasant.

Arising early, she packed a lunch for herself, dressed in hiking clothes with heavy boots, and was ready to leave the house by the time Mrs. Weems came downstairs for breakfast.

"Up so early, Penny?" she inquired.

"Just going on a little trip. Don't expect me back very early."

The housekeeper regarded her severely. "Penny Parker, you're not going to the swamp again!"

"Figured I might."

"Does your father know you're going?"

"We talked it over a day or so ago. He doesn't mind so long as I go with Trapper Joe or another guide."

"In that case I suppose I can't object," Mrs. Weems sighed. "Mind, you don't set foot in the swamp without someone along!"

"I've already given my promise to Dad."

"And do be careful," the housekeeper added. "I'll not feel easy until you're back."

Though neither she nor Penny knew it then, the girl's absence from home was to be a long one, and both were to have many uncomfortable moments before her return.

Reaching the swamp sometime later, Penny parked the car and walked to Trapper Joe's shack on the creek.

The old guide was sitting on the sagging porch, his feet propped on the railing. Catching sight of Penny he frowned slightly, but as she came up, greeted her in a friendly way.

"'Mawnin'," he said briefly. "What's on yer mind this time?"

"Can't you guess?" Penny asked, sitting down on a step at his feet.

"If yer wantin' me to take you into the swamp agin, yer only wastin' yer words. I hain't got the time."

"I'll pay you well."

"It hain't the money."

"Then why do you refuse to take me in?"

"Tole ye, didn't I? I got work to do."

Penny knew that Joe was only making excuses, for obviously, one day was very like another in his care-free life.

"What work do you have this morning that can't wait, Joe?"

"Well, fer one thing I gotta smoke out a swarm o' bees and git me a nice mess o' honey fer winter. Want to go with me?"

"Into the swamp?"

"No, this tree hain't in the swamp."

"Then I don't want to go. Joe, I think you're stubborn! You know how much this trip means to me."

"Reckon I do."

"Then why not take me? Tell me your reason for refusing."

Old Joe gazed steadily at Penny and for a moment seemed on the verge of making interesting revelations. But to her disappointment, he shook his head.

"Jest don't wanter go, thet's all."

"You learned something the other day when we were in the swamp!" Penny accused. "You're keeping it from me--probably to protect someone! Isn't that it?"

"Hain't saying."

"You know Danny Deevers is hidden somewhere in the swamp! You're helping to protect him!"

Old Joe's feet came down from the railing with a thump. "Now that hain't so!" he denied. "I got no time fer the likes o' Danny Deevers. If I knowed where he is, I'd give him up to the law."

"Well, someone is hiding there! I heard Ezekiel Hawkins talking on Lookout Point, didn't I? We found the dead campfire. Your gun was stolen, and later a mysterious person rescued me when I was treed by the boar."

"Could have been one o' the Hawkins."

"You don't honestly believe that, Joe."

"No, reckon I don't," the guide sighed. "You sure kin shoot questions at a feller faster'n these new Army rockets I hear tell about. I'd like to tell ye what ye want to know, but there's things best not talked about. Knowin' too much kin be dangerous."

Penny scarcely could hide her annoyance, for several times now the guide had made similar hints.

"I don't trust the Hawkins' family at all," she announced. "If they're not involved with Danny Deevers, they're up to something here in the swamp. Otherwise, why would they be so mean?"

"The Hawkins' family always has been mean an' ornery."

"Another thing--" Penny started to mention how she and Salt had seen large containers of some unknown product being removed from the swamp, but broke off as she decided to keep the information to herself.

"Yeah?" inquired the guide.

"Nothing," replied Penny. "If you won't take me into the swamp, is there anyone else who will?"

"Couldn't say fer sure," Joe replied, "but I reckon I'm the only guide herebouts fer maybe fifty miles."

"Won't you reconsider?"

"You put up a powe'ful strong argument, young'un, but I gotta say no fer yer own good."

"You've certainly ruined all my plans," Penny said crossly. "Well, since you won't help me, I'll say goodbye."

Back in the car once more, she could not bring herself to return home so early in the morning. Debating a moment, she drove to the homestead of the Widow Jones.

Dressed in a bright calico dress, the woman sat under a shade tree skillfully cutting up the meat of a turtle and dropping it into a pan of cold water.