Chapter IV: Part 4

As Penny walked across the weed-choked yard, she looked up in a startled way, but smiled as she recognized the girl.

"I'm fixin' to have me a nice soup," she explained. "Ye cook the turtle with diced carrots, potatoes, okra, and tomatoes and serve it piping hot. Ever et any?"

"No, I never have," Penny replied, watching the preparations with interest. "It sounds good."

"Ye kin stay and have dinner with me," the woman invited. "I'll fix some flour biscuits and we'll have a right nice meal."

"I'm afraid I'll have to get back home," Penny said regretfully. "My trip here today was a failure."

Because the Widow Jones gave her an inquiring look of sympathy, she explained that Trapper Joe had refused to take her into the swamp. She went on to tell why the trip meant so much to her, and of her belief that a clever investigator who knew the area might find clues which would lead to the capture of Danny Deevers.

"So Joe wouldn't take ye?" the Widow Jones inquired softly. "Why?"

"He says it's dangerous."

"And since when has Joe got so a-feared of his shadow?"

"It did sound like an excuse to me. I think he knows what is going on in the swamp, and wants no part of it."

"Ye say it means a lot to ye to make the trip?"

"Oh, yes, I'd do it in a minute, if I could find anyone who knows the channels. But Joe says he's the only guide for fifty miles around."

Mrs. Jones slapped the last piece of turtle meat into the water with a splash. She arose, gathering her long skirts about her.

"Joe's maybe fergettin' that as a gal, my paw taught me every crook and turn of the swamp. Hain't been in there fer quite a spell now, but I got a hankerin' to go agin."

Penny stared at her incredulously.

"You mean you'll take me?" she demanded. "Today? Now?"

"I've got a quilt I should be piecin' on this afternoon, but hit can wait. If you hain't afeared to place yerself in my hands, I'll take you."

"I'll jump at the chance! But do you have a boat?"

"We'll make Joe lend us his!" the widow said grimly. "And if he tries squirmin', well, I know how to handle him!"

CHAPTER
19
_PENNY'S PLAN_

Making elaborate preparations for the trip into the swamp, Mrs. Jones packed a lunch, and donned a huge straw hat and stout boots.

However, she did not change the long, flowing skirt, which flopped about her ankles as she and Penny walked through the meadow to Trapper Joe's dock.

From the porch, the old guide saw the pair and watched them warily.

"We're takin' yer boat, Joe," the widow called to him from the creek's edge. "We're makin' a little trip into the swamp."

Joe pulled himself from the chair and came quickly to the dock.

"Hold on now!" he protested. "Two wimmin can't go alone into the swamp! Leastwise, not beyond Lookout Point."

"Says who?" retorted the widow, already untying the boat.

"That young 'un's talked you into goin' to Black Island! Ye can't do it. You'll git lost in one o' the false channels. The hyacinths are bad this year."

The widow hesitated, then tossed her head as she dropped the package of lunch into the skiff.

"Ye forgit I was swamp raised! Git me the paddles and a pole, Joe. Don't stand there gawkin'."

"No wimmin ever went as far as Black Island. It hain't safe!"

"My Paw took me there when I was a little girl. I hain't forgittin' the way."

"Ye'r stubborn as a mule!" Joe accused, glaring at her. "If you're dead set on goin', I see I'll have to give in and go with ye. But it's agin my best judgment."

"No one asked ye to go with us, Joe," the widow said tartly. "We aim to make this trip by ourselves. Jest git the paddles and pole."

Joe threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat and started slowly for the shack. "Wimmin!" he muttered. "There jest hain't no sense in 'em!"

He took his time inside the shack, but finally returned with the requested paddles and pole.

"There ye are!" he snapped. "But I'm warnin' ye, if ye git into trouble or lost, don't expect me to come after ye."

"Now I'll take the kicker motor," the widow ordered, paying no heed to his words.

"Not my motor!" Joe exclaimed defiantly. "I paid sixty dollars fer it secondhand and I hain't lettin' no female ruin it."

"Ye can't expect me to blister my hands rowin' all day," the widow replied. "We aim to make a quick trip."

"Ye can't use the motor in all them hyacinths!"

"Maybe not, but it'll take us through the open spots a heap faster. The motor, Joe."

Grumbling loudly, the guide went to the house once more. He came back with the motor which he attached and started for the widow.

"Thank ye kindly, Joe," she grinned at him as the boat pulled away from the dock. "I'll make ye one of my apple pies when I git back."

"_If ye get back_," the guide corrected morosely.

Propelled by the motor, the skiff sped steadily through the channel and came presently to the Hawkins' farm. The popping of the engine, which could be heard some distance, drew Mrs. Hawkins to the dock.

She signaled the boat as it drew near.

"Howdy," the Widow Jones greeted her politely though with no warmth. She throttled down the engine and drifted in toward shore.

"Goin' in fer a little fishin', I take it," Mrs. Hawkins observed by way of inquiry. "But where's yer fishin' poles?"

"Left 'em ter home," the widow replied.

"Then you hain't fishin'."

"'Pears like yer right smart at usein' yer eyes," the widow agreed dryly.

A slight frown which did not escape Penny, puckered the farm woman's forehead. She seemed on the verge of speaking, then appeared to change her mind. As the boat drifted on, she watched stolidly.

"Never did like that woman," Mrs. Jones commented when the skiff had rounded a bend. "She's got sharp eyes, and she don't approve 'cause we're goin' inter the swamp together."

"Why should she care?" Penny asked.

"I wonder myself."

"I've noticed that she always seems to be watching the entrance channel into the swamp," Penny said thoughtfully. "Perhaps she is the one who taps out those signals!"

"Signals? What do you mean, young'un?"

Penny told of the strange pounding noises she had heard during her previous trip through the swamp.

"I could almost wager Mrs. Hawkins will wait until we're a safe distance away, and then signal!" the girl went on. "Don't I wish I could catch her though!"

"Maybe ye kin. We could shut off the motor and drift back and watch."

Penny's eyes began to sparkle with excitement. "I'd love to do it. But won't she be listening for the sound of our motor as we go deeper into the swamp? If she doesn't hear it, she's apt to suspect something."

"Ye've got a real head on yer shoulders," said the widow approvingly. "By the way, I don't like to keep callin' ye young'un now we're good friends. What's yer name?"

"I thought you knew. I'm sorry. It's Penny Parker."

"Penny! I never did hear o' a girl named after money."

"I wasn't exactly," Penny smiled. "My real name is Penelope, but no one ever liked it. So I'm called Penny."

"Penelope, hain't sich a bad name. That's what I'll call ye."

"About Mrs. Hawkins--" the girl reminded her.

"Oh, yes, now if ye was a mind to find out about her, it wouldn't be so hard."

"How?"

"We hain't gone fur into the swamp yet. I could let ye out here on the bank and ye could slip back afoot to the bend in the channel."

"Where I'd be able to watch the house!"

"Ye got the idea, Penelope. All the while, I would keep goin' on in the boat until the sound o' the motor jest naturally died out. Then I could row back here and pick ye up agin."

"Mrs. Jones, you're the one who has a head on your shoulders!" Penny cried. "Let's do it!"

The widow brought the skiff alongside the bank, steadying it as the girl stepped ashore.

"Ye got a watch?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'll meet ye right here in 'bout three-quarters of an hour. I kin keep track o' the time by lookin' at the sun."

"That may not give me enough time," Penny said anxiously.

"If yer late, I'll wait fer ye," the widow promised. "But try to be here. If ye hain't we may havter give up the trip, 'cause it hain't sensible startin' in late in the day."

"I'll be here," Penny assured her. "If nothing happens in three-quarters of an hour, I'll just give it up."

The boat, it's motor popping steadily, slipped away. Penny scrambled up the muddy bank, and finding a well-trod path, walked rapidly toward the Hawkins' place.

Soon she came to the bend in the creek, and there paused. From afar, she could hear the retreating sound of the skiff's motor.

Through a break in the bushes, the girl peered toward the distant farmhouse. To her disappointment, the yard was now deserted, and Mrs. Hawkins was nowhere in sight.

"Maybe I was wrong," Penny thought. "I'd hate to waste all this valuable time."

For a half hour she waited. Twice Mrs. Hawkins came out of the house, once to gather in clothes from the line and the second time to obtain a pail of water.

"I guess my hunch was crazy," Penny told herself. "I'll have to be starting back to meet Mrs. Jones."

The sound of the motorboat now had died out completely, so the girl knew the widow already was on her way to their appointed meeting place.

Turning away from the bushes, Penny paused for one last glance at the farmhouse. The yard remained deserted. But as she sighed in disappointment, the kitchen door again flew open.

Mrs. Hawkins came outside and walked rapidly to the shed. She listened attentively for a moment. Then from a peg on the outside wall, she took down a big tin dishpan and a huge wooden mixing spoon.

Penny watched with mounting excitement. This was the moment for which she had waited!

Carefully, the farm woman looked about to be certain no one was nearby. Then with firm precision, she beat out a tattoo on the dishpan.

"It's a signal to someone in the swamp!" guessed Penny. "In code she is tapping out that Mrs. Jones and I are on our way into the interior!"

CHAPTER
20
_TRAILING HOD HAWKINS_

After Mrs. Hawkins had pounded out the signal, she hung the dishpan on its peg once more, and went to the door of the shed. Without opening it, she spoke to someone inside the building. Penny was too far away to hear what she said.

In a minute, the woman turned away and vanished into the house.

Penny waited a little while to be certain Mrs. Hawkins did not intend to come outside again. Then, with an uneasy glance at her wrist watch, she stole away to rejoin Mrs. Jones.

The skiff was drawn up to shore by the time she reached the appointed meeting place.

"I was jest about to give you up," the widow remarked as the girl scrambled into the boat. "Did ye learn what ye wanted to know?"

Penny told her what she had seen.

"'Pears you may be right about it bein' a signal," the widow agreed thoughtfully. "We may be able to learn more too, 'cause whoever had his'n ears tuned to Ma Hawkins' signal may figure we're deep in the swamp by this time."

"Let's keep on the alert as we near Lookout Point," Penny urged.

Mrs. Jones nodded and silently dipped the paddle.

Soon they came within view of the point. Passing beneath an overhanging tree branch, the widow grasped it with one hand, causing the skiff to swing sideways into a shelter of leaves.

"See anyone, Penelope?" she whispered.

"Not a soul."

"Then maybe we was wrong about Ma Hawkins signalling anyone."

"But I do see a boat beached on the point!" Penny added. "And see! Someone is coming out of the bush now!"

"Hod Hawkins!"

Keeping quiet, the pair in the skiff waited to see what would happen.

Hod came down to the water's edge, peering with a puzzled expression along the waterway. He did not see the skiff, shielded by leaves and dense shade.

"Hit's all-fired queer," they heard him mutter. "I shore didn't see no boat pass here this mawnin'. But Maw musta seen one go by or she wouldn't heve pounded the pan."

Hod sat down on a log, watching the channel. Penny and Mrs. Jones remained where they were. Once the current, sluggish as it was, swung the skiff against a projecting tree root. The resulting jar and scraping sound seemed very loud to their ears. But the Hawkins youth did not hear.

Penny and the widow were becoming weary of sitting in such cramped positions under the tree branch. To their relief, Hod arose after a few minutes. Reaching into the hollow log, he removed a tin pan somewhat smaller than the dishpan Mrs. Hawkins had used a few minutes earlier.

"He's going to signal!" Penny whispered excitedly. "Either to his mother, or someone deeper in the swamp!"

Already Hod was beating out a pattern on the pan, very similar to the one the girl had heard before.

After a few minutes, the swamper thrust the pan back into its hiding place. He hesitated, and then to the surprise of Penny and Mrs. Jones, stepped into his boat.

"If he comes this way, he's certain to see us!" Penny thought uneasily.

With never a glance toward the leafy hideout, Hod shoved off, rowing deeper into the swamp.

"Dare we follow him?" whispered Penny.

"That's what I aim to do," the Widow Jones rejoined grimly. "I hain't afeared o' the likes o' Hod Hawkins! Moreover, fer a long time, I been calculatin' to find out what takes him and Coon so offen into the swamp."

"You mean recently don't you, Mrs. Jones. Just since Danny Deevers escaped from prison?"

"I don't know nothin' about Danny Deevers," the widow replied as she picked up the paddle again. "I do know that the Hawkins' been up to mischief fer more'n a year."

"Then you must have an idea what that city truck was doing on the swamp road the other night."

"An idear--yes," agreed Mrs. Jones. "But I hain't sure, and until I am, I hain't makin' no accusations."

Now that Hod's boat was well away, the widow noiselessly sent the skiff forward.

"We kin follow close enough to jest about keep him in sight if we don't make no noise," she warned. "But we gotta be keerful."

Penny nodded and became silent.

Soon the channel was no more than a path through high water-grass and floating hyacinths. Hod propelled his boat with powerful muscles, alternating with forked pole and paddle. At times, when Penny took over to give the Widow Jones a "breather," she was hard pressed not to lose the trail.

"We're headin' straight fer Black Island, hit 'pears to me," Mrs. Jones whispered once. "The channel don't look the same though as when I was through here last. But I reckon if we git lost we kin find our way out somehow."

Soon the skiff was inching through a labyrinth of floating hyacinths; there were few stretches of open water. Shallow channels to confuse the unwary, radiated out in a dozen directions, many of them with no outlets.

Always, however, before the hyacinths closed in, the Widow Jones was able to pick up the path through which Hod had passed.

"From the way he's racin' along, he's been this way plenty o' times," she remarked. "We're headin' fer Black Island right enough."

The sun now was high overhead, beating down on Penny's back and shoulders with uncomfortable warmth. Mrs. Jones brought out the lunch and a jug of water. One ate while the other rowed.

"We're most to Black Island," the widow informed presently. "If ye look sharp through the grass, ye can see thet point o' high land. Thet's the beginnin' o' the island--biggest one in the swamp."

"But where is Hod?"

"He musta pulled up somewheres in the bushes. We'll have to be keerful and go slow now or we'll be caught."

"Listen!" whispered Penny.

Although she could as yet see no one on the island, voices floated out across the water.

"We heerd yer signal, Hod," a man said, "but we hain't seen no one."

"A boat musta come through, or Maw wouldn't heve beat the pan."

"Whoever 'twas, they probably went off somewheres else," the other man replied. "Glad yer here anyhow, Hod. We got a lot o' work to do and ye can help us."

Hod's reply was inaudible, for obviously the men were moving away into the interior of the island.

"Thet was old Ezekiel talkin' to his son," the Widow Jones declared, although Penny already had guessed as much. "They've gone off somewheres, so if we're a mind to land, now's our only chance."

Penny gazed at her companion in surprise and admiration.

"You're not afraid?" she inquired softly.

"Maybe I am," the Widow Jones admitted. "But that hain't no excuse fer me turnin' tail! This here's a free country ain't it?"

She poled the skiff around the point to a thick clump of bushes. There she pulled up, and with Penny's help made the skiff secure to a tree root hidden from sight by overhanging branches.

Scrambling up the muddy bank, the pair paused to take bearings. Voices now had died away and to all appearances the island might have been deserted.

Treading with utmost caution, Penny and the Widow Jones tramped along the shore until they came to a path. Abruptly, the girl halted, sniffing the air.

"I smell wood burning," she whispered. "From a campfire probably."

"An' I smell somethin' more," added the Widow Jones grimly. "Cain't ye notice thet sickish, sweet odor in the air?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"We'll find out," replied Mrs. Jones. "But if we git cotched, I'm warnin' ye we won't never git away from here. Ye sure ye want to go on?"

"Very sure."

"Then come on. And be keerful not to crackle any leaves underfoot."

The path led to a low, tunnellike opening in the thicket. Penny, who again had taken the lead, crouched low, intending to crawl through.

Before she could do so, she heard a stifled cry behind her. Turning, she saw that Mrs. Jones had sagged to one knee, and her face was twisted with pain.

Penny ran to her. "You're hurt!" she whispered. "Bitten by a snake?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head, biting her lip to keep back the tears. She pointed to her ankle, caught beneath a tree root.

"I stumbled and wrenched it 'most off," she murmured. "Hit's a bad sprain and I'm afeared I can't go on."

CHAPTER
21
_THE TUNNEL OF LEAVES_

Penny raised the woman to her feet, but as Mrs. Jones tried to take a step, she saw that the sprain indeed was a bad one.

Already the ankle was swelling and skin had been broken. At each attempted step, the widow winced with pain, suffering intensely.

"If I kin only git back to the boat, I'll be all right," she said, observing Penny's worried expression. "Drat it all! Jest when I wanted to find out what the Hawkins' are doin' on this island!"

Supporting much of the widow's weight on her shoulders, Penny helped her back to the skiff.

"I guess we may as well start back," she said, unable to hide her bitter disappointment.

The widow reached for an oar, then looked keenly at Penny and put it back again.

"'Course it would be a risky thing fer ye to go on by yerself while I wait here in the boat--"

Penny's slumped shoulders straightened. Her blue eyes began to dance.

"You mean you don't mind waiting here while I see where that tunnel of leaves leads?" she demanded.

"'Pears like we've come too fur not to find out what's goin' on. Think ye can git in there and back without being cotched?"

"I'm sure of it!"

The widow sighed. "I hain't sure of it, but you got more gumpshun than any other young'un I ever met. Go on if ye'r a-goin', and if anyone sees ye, light out fer the boat. I'll be ready to shove off."

"Mrs. Jones, you're a darling!" Penny whispered, giving the gnarled hand a quick pressure. "I'll make it all right!"

Moving directly to the thicket, she dropped on all fours and started through the leafy tunnel where Hod had disappeared. The sweetish odor now was much plainer than before.

She had crawled only a few feet, when a hand reached out of nowhere and grasped her shoulder.

Penny whirled around, expecting to see a member of the Hawkins' family. For a moment she saw no one, and then from the thicket beside the tunnel, a figure became visible. The hold on her shoulder relaxed.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a whisper.

"Friend."

"Then show yourself!"

The leaves rustled, and a dark-haired lad with tangled curls crawled into the tunnel beside her. His shoes were ripped, his clothing dirty and in tatters. A rifle was grasped in his hand.

"Bada men," he warned, jerking his head in the direction Penny had been crawling. "Mucha better go back boat."

"Who are you and why do you warn me?" Penny asked, deeply puzzled.

The boy did not reply.

Light dawned suddenly upon Penny. "You're the one who saved me from the boar!"

The boy's quick grin was acknowledgment he had fired the shot.

"But why did you run away?" Penny asked. "Why didn't you wait and let me thank you for saving my life?"

"You giva me to police maybe," replied the boy in broken English. "I staya here--starva first!"

"Who are you?"

"Name no matter."

Penny's mind had been working swiftly. She was convinced the boy who had saved her also was the one who had stolen Trapper Joe's gun. Evidently, he had needed it to survive in the swamp. He was thin and his eyes had a hungry look, she noted.

"How did you get to this island?" she inquired. "Do you have a boat?"

"Make-a raft." The boy's eyes darted down the leafy tunnel. "No good here," he said, seizing Penny's arm and pulling her back into the thicket. "Someone-a come!"

Scarcely had the pair flattened themselves on the ground than Ezekiel Hawkins crawled out through the tunnel, pushing his gun ahead of him. Standing upright not three feet from Penny and her companion, he gazed sharply about.

"Thought I heerd voices," he muttered.

Penny held her breath, knowing that if the swamper should walk down the shore even a dozen yards, he would see the Widow Jones waiting in the skiff.

To her great relief, Ezekiel moved in the opposite direction. After satisfying himself that no boat approached the island, he returned through the tunnel and disappeared.

"What's going on back in there?" Penny whispered as soon as it was safe to ask.

"Bada men," her companion said briefly.

"You're driving me to distraction!" Penny muttered, losing patience. "Do those swampers know you're here on the island?"

The boy shook his tangled curls, grinning broadly. "Chasa me once. No catch."

"You're Italian, aren't you?" Penny asked suddenly.

A guarded look came over the lad's sun-tanned face. His brown eyes lost some of their friendliness.

"Now I have it!" Penny exclaimed before he could speak. "You're Antonio Tienta, wanted by Immigration authorities for slipping into this country illegally!"

The boy did not deny the accusation, and the half-frightened, defiant look he gave her, confirmed that she had struck upon the truth.

"I no go back!" he muttered. "I starva first!"

"Don't become so excited, or those men will hear you and we'll both be caught," Penny warned. "Tell me about yourself, Tony. I already know a little."

"How mucha you know?" he asked cautiously.

"That you acted as a guide to G.I.'s in Italy and stowed aboard a troopship coming to this country. Even now, I guess authorities aren't certain how you slipped past New York officials."

"No trouble," boasted the lad. "On ship my friendsa the G.I.'s they feeda me. We dock New York; I hide under bunk; all G.I.'s leava boat. Boat go to other dock. Sailor friend giva me clothes. Sailors leave-a boat. I slippa out. No one geta wise."

"Then where did you go?"

"Stay in-a New York only two--three days. Go hitchhike into country. Work-a on farm. No like it. Hear Immigration men-a come, so I go. Come-a one day to swamp. Good place; I stay."

"You've not had an easy time keeping alive in this dismal place," Penny said sympathetically. "Isn't that Trapper Joe's gun?"

"Steal-a one night," the boy agreed. "Give back some-a time."

Penny studied the youth with growing concern. "Tony," she said, "you can't hope to stay here long. The only sensible thing is to give yourself up."

"No! I die first! American best country in all-a the world! No one ever take-a me back!"

"But you can't expect to elude Immigration officials very long. If you give yourself up, they might be lenient with you."

"They send-a me back," Tony said stubbornly. "I stay right-a here!"

"To starve? You're hungry now, aren't you?"

"Sure. But in Italy I hungry many times-a too."

"Tony, we'll talk about this later," Penny sighed. "Right now, I want to learn what's going on here at the island. Know anything about it?"

"Sure," the boy grinned. "Know plenty."

"Then suppose you tell me, Tony."

"I show-a you," the boy offered.

Avoiding the leafy tunnel, he led Penny in a half circle through another section of dense thicket.

Soon he motioned for her to drop on her knees.

The sickish odor rising through the trees now was very disagreeable again.

A few yards farther on, Tony halted. Still lying flat on his stomach, he carefully pulled aside the bushes so that his companion might see.

CHAPTER
22
_HELP FROM TONY_

Through the leaves, Penny saw a fairly large clearing. Three men, Ezekiel Hawkins and his two sons, were squatted about a big hardwood fire over which was a large copper cooker.

A pipe extended above the cover, connected with a series of coils immersed in a barrel of cold water.

"A still!" the girl whispered. "They're making alcohol here and selling it in the city! That's what those containers held that were trucked away!"

"Make-a the stuff every day," volunteered Tony. "I watch--sometimes I steal-a the lunch. They very mad but no catch."

"They're probably afraid you'll tell revenue officers," Penny whispered.

From one of the barrels, Coon had taken a dipper filled with the pale fluid. As he drank deeply from it, his father said sharply:

"Thet's enough, Coon! We gotta git this stuff made an moved out o' here tonight, and ye won't be fitten."

"What's yer rush, Pappy? We got termorrer, hain't we?" Coon sat down, and bracing his back against a tree trunk, yawned drowsily.

"Ye want to be caught by them lousy revenooers?"

"There hain't no danger. Hain't we got a fool-proof system? If anyone starts this way, Maw'll spot 'em and give us the signal."

"Folkses is gittin' wise, and we hain't none too popular hereabouts. We're moving this stuff out tonight."

"Jest as you say, Pappy." Coon stirred reluctantly.

"An we hain't operatin' the still no more till things quiets down. I don't like it that gal snoopin' around here, claimin' to be lookin' fer her dawg."

"Ye should have kilt the dawg, stead o' keepin' him," Hod spoke up as he dumped a sack of mash into a tub. "Tole ye it would make us trouble."

"Yer always tellin' me!" Ezekiel retorted. "Thet dog's handy to heve here, an I never was one to kill a helpless animal without cause. Now git to yer work, and let me do the thinkin' fer this outfit!"

Penny's curiosity now had been fully satisfied as to the illegal business in which the Hawkins' family had engaged, but she also felt a little disappointed.

She had hoped the men would speak of Danny Deevers, perhaps revealing his hideout. The convict was nowhere to be seen, and there was no evidence he ever had been on Black Island.

Not wishing to leave Mrs. Jones too long alone in the boat, Penny presently motioned to Tony that she had seen and heard enough.

Inch by inch, they crept backwards away from the tiny clearing.

Then suddenly Penny stopped, for Ezekiel was speaking again:

"We gotta do something about Danny and git him off our hands."

Penny instantly became all ears, listening intently to Coon's reply:

"Now ye'r talkin', Pappy. Takin' him in was a big mistake. Hit's apt ter land us in jail if them city officers come snoopin' around here agin."

"There wouldn't have been no risk, if Hod and Danny hadn't taken the widder's car and drive into town. Didn't ye have no sense, Hod?"

"Danny wanted to go," Hod whined. "How was we ter know another car was goin' to smash into us? Thet fool newspaper camera man an' the girl had to be there!"

"That wasn't the wust," Ezekiel went on as he fed the fire with chips. "Then ye follered 'em to the theater!"

"Danny said we had ter git the picture or they'd print it in the newspaper."

"But did ye git the picture?"

"No," Hod growled.

"Instead o' that, ye let Danny git into a fight."

"'Twasn't no fight and nobody knew it was him. He seen an enemy o' his'n go into the building. I tried ter talk him out o' it, but he wouldn't listen. He crawled in through a window, and slugged the feller."

"He did have sense enough to git rid o' the car, but ye shouldn't have left it so close to our place," Ezekiel pointed out. "That newspaper gal's been out here twict now, and she's catchin' on!"

"She's only a gal," Hod said carelessly. "Ye do too much worryin', Pappy."

"I do the thinkin' fer this family. An' I say things is gittin' too hot fer comfort. We gotta git rid o' Danny tonight."

"How ye aimin' ter do it, Pappy?" inquired Coon. "Be ye fergittin' he's got $50,000 hid away somewheres an' he hain't give us our slice yet?"

"Fer all his promises, maybe he don't calculate ever to give us our cut! Ever think o' that?"

"Danny would double cross us if he got the chanst," Hod agreed. "Maybe ye'r right, Pappy!"

"Doggone tootin', I am! We git rid o' him tonight, soon's we git back from this island. But first we make him tell where he hid the money!"

"How we gonna do it, Pappy?" asked Coon.

"Hain't figured fer sure, but he's the same as our prisoner, ain't he? If we was to turn him over to the police, claimin' we found him hidin' out in the swamp, he couldn't prove no different."

"And we'd git $10,000 reward!" Hod added. "We could use thet money!"

"I hain't one to double cross a pal if it can be helped," Ezekiel amended hastily. "Now if Danny's a mind to tell where he hid the money, and split, we'll help him git out o' here tonight."

"And if he won't cough up?"

"We'll turn him over to police and claim the reward."

To Penny, it now was clear Hod Hawkins had been with Danny Deevers at the time Jerry was slugged. Also, the conversation made it evident the escaped convict had sought a hideout somewhere near if not in the swamp.

Tensely, the girl waited for further details of the escape plan, but none were forthcoming. The three men applied themselves to their work and said no more.

"My best bet is to get away from here fast and notify police!" Penny thought.

Noiselessly, she and Tony retreated through the thicket to a shoreline some distance away.

"Listen, Tony!" Penny said hurriedly. "I've got to go away for awhile! Will you stay here and keep watch of these men for me?"

"I stay," the boy promised soberly.

"I'll come back as soon as I can. And Tony! Please don't run away. I want to do something for you--perhaps I can."

"No go back to Italy," the boy said firmly. "Stay-a here--you come back. Then go far away. No trust pol-eese."

Penny dared not take time to try to convince the youth of the folly of fleeing from Immigration authorities. Saying goodbye, she ran to the boat where the Widow Jones anxiously awaited her.

"Shove off!" she ordered tersely. "I've seen plenty! I'll tell you about it, once we're away from here!"

Mrs. Jones gave a mighty push with her pole, and the skiff floated out of its hiding place into the hyacinth-clogged channel.

"How is your foot?" Penny inquired. "Better let me paddle."

"It hain't hurtin' so much now," the widow replied without giving up the paddle. "I'll steer until we're out o' these floatin' hyacinth beds."

"One place looks exactly like another to me," Penny said anxiously. "So many false channels!"

"Ye git a feel fer it after awhile. There's a current to follow, but it's mighty faint."

"We must get back as fast as we can," Penny urged, glancing nervously over her shoulder toward Black Island. In terse sentences she told of her meeting with Tony and all they had seen in the clearing.

"So the Hawkins' are runnin' a still!" commented the widow. "Humph! Jest as I figured, only I didn't dast say so without proof."

"The important thing is they're hiding Danny Deevers! Where they're keeping him will be for the police to discover as soon as they arrest Ezekiel and his sons."

"I'll git ye back fast," the widow promised grimly. "Soon's we git out o' these beds and away from the island, I kin switch on the motor."

Safely out of sight of the island, the couple found themselves in a labyrinth of floating hyacinths with no clearly defined channel. The Widow Jones tried a half dozen of them, each time being forced to return to a point she could identify as their starting place.

"Penelope, I can't seem to find the main channel," she confessed at last. "'Pears like we're lost."

"Oh, we can't be!" Penny exclaimed. "We must get back quickly!"

"I'm a-tryin' hard as I kin," the widow said doggedly.

"Let me paddle for awhile," Penny offered. "Your ankle is hurting and you're tired. Just tell me which way to go."

Mrs. Jones indicated a channel which opened in a wide sweep. But before Penny had paddled far, it played out. The sun, sinking lower in the sky, warned the pair how fast time was passing.

For another hour they sought desperately to find the exit channel. Although they took turns at paddling, and used the motor whenever the passageway was not too clogged, they soon became exhausted.

"It hain't no use," the widow said at last. "We're tuckered out, and we're goin' around in circles. We'll pull up on shore and take a little rest."

Penny nodded miserably.

Herons flew lazily over as the couple pulled the boat out on the soft muck. Seeking a high point of land, the widow flung herself flat on her back to rest.

For a time, Penny sat beside her, thinking over everything that had occurred. It was bitterly disappointing to realize that due purely to a stroke of bad luck, Danny Deevers undoubtedly would elude police.

"Mrs. Jones and I may not find our way out of here in twenty-four hours!" she thought. "By that time, the Hawkins' family will have helped him escape!"

Tormented by weariness, Penny stretched out beside the widow. Insects annoyed her for awhile. Then she dozed off.

Much later when the girl awoke, she saw that her companion still slept. The shadow of dusk already was heavy upon the swamp.

Sitting up, Penny gazed resentfully across the water at an almost solid sea of floating plants.

"Such miserable luck!" she muttered. "Of all times to be lost!"

Penny's gaze remained absently upon the hyacinth bed. The plants slowly were drifting westward. At first their movement signified nothing to the girl. Then suddenly, she sprang to her feet.

Excitedly she shook Mrs. Jones by the arm. "The channel!" she cried. "I can see it now! If we move fast, we still may get out of the swamp before night!"

CHAPTER
23
_LOST IN THE HYACINTHS_

Mrs. Jones shaded her eyes from the slanting rays of the low-hung sun to gaze for a long moment at the almost motionless hyacinth bed blanketing the water.

"Right ye are, Penelope!" she exclaimed jubilantly. "The channel's plain to see now! Help me git to the boat, and we'll be out o' this tangle."

Once in the skiff, the widow again seized the paddle.

"We gotta inch our way along fer a little," she explained. "If we don't foller the drift o' the bed, we'll be lost agin and that hain't smart."

Steadily the widow shoved the little boat through the water plants, seldom hesitating in choice of the channel.

"I got the feel o' it agin!" she declared happily. "We'll be out o' this in no time!"

However, dark shadows were deepening to blackness when the boat finally came into water open enough to permit use of the motor. Propelled by the engine, the skiff presently approached Lookout Point.

"Let's paddle from here," proposed Penny. "Ezekiel and his sons may be out of the swamp by this time. We don't want them to see us or guess where we've been."

Mrs. Jones shut off the motor and with a tired sigh, offered the paddle to Penny. The channel now was plainly marked and easy to follow, even in semi-darkness. Whenever the girl hesitated, the widow told her which way to steer.

"We're out of it now," Mrs. Jones said as lights of the Hawkins' farmhouse twinkled through the trees. "Reckon Trapper Joe's fit to be tied, we been gone so long!"

Penny allowed the skiff to drift with the current. As it floated past the Hawkins' dock, loud voices came from the direction of the woodshed.

"Sounds like an argument goin' on," observed the widow.

Penny brought the skiff in and made fast to the dock.

"What ye aimin' to do?" the widow inquired in surprise.

"Wait here!" Penny whispered. "I have a hunch what's going on and I must find out!" Before Mrs. Jones could protest, she slipped away into the darkness.

Stealthily the girl approached the woodshed. A voice which she recognized as Ezekiel's, now plainly could be heard.

"Danny, we've fed ye and kept ye here fer days in this woodshed, and it hain't safe!" the speaker said. "Ye gotta git out tonight--now--through the swamp. The river'll take ye out the other end, and ye maybe kin git out o' the state."

"And maybe I'll be caught!" the other voice replied. Penny knew it was Danny Deevers who spoke. "I'm staying right here!"

"Coon and Hod'll guide ye through the swamp, so ye'll be safe enough till ye git to the other side," Ezekiel argued. "We hain't keepin' ye here another day. You got clothes and food and a good chanst to git away."

Penny crept close to the wall of the woodshed. Peering through a small, dirty window on the far side she saw four men seated on kegs in a room dimly lighted by a lantern.

The man facing her plainly was Danny Deevers. Opposite him were Ezekiel and his two sons, both armed with rifles.

"Hain't no use talkin' any more," Ezekiel said flatly. "Ye'r leavin' here tonight, Danny. Maw's fixin' ye a lunch to take."

"Paw, hain't you forgittin' something?" Coon prodded his father.

"Hain't fergittin' nothin', Coon. Danny, 'fore you go, there's a matter o' money to be settled between us. Ye got $50,000 hid somewheres close, and we want our cut fer hidin' ye out from the police."

Danny laughed unpleasantly.

"You leeches won't get a penny! Not a penny! No one but me knows where that money is, and I'm not telling!"

"Then I calculate Hod and Coon cain't guide ye through the swamp tonight," Ezekiel said coolly. "We got word today the police got a hint ye'r here. We'll help 'em, by turning you in. Hod, git to the phone and call Sheriff Burtwell. Tell 'im we cotched this feller hidin' in the swamp."

"You betcha!" Hod said with alacrity.

"Wait!" Danny stopped him before he could reach the door. "How much of a cut do you dirty blackmailers want?"

"We don't like them words, Danny," Ezekiel said. "All we ask is a fair amount fer the risk we been takin' keepin' ye here."

"How much?"

"A third cut."

"I'll give you $10,000."

"'Tain't enough."

"You'll not get another cent. Take it or leave it. Turn me in if you want to! You'll involve yourself because I'll swear you hid me here."

"We hain't aimin' to be hard on ye, Danny," Ezekiel said hastily. "If we was to agree to the $10,000, kin ye deliver tonight?"

"In fifteen minutes!"

"Ye hain't got the money on ye or hid in the woodshed!"

"No."

"But it's somewheres close. I knowed that."

"If I give you $10,000, you'll guide me through the swamp and help me get away?"

"We will," Ezekiel promised.

"Then get a spade," Danny directed. "The money's buried under a fence post by the creek. I hid it there a year ago before they sent me up. Marked the post with a V-shaped slash of my jackknife."

"Git a spade, Hod," Ezekiel ordered.

Penny waited for no more. Stealing away, she ran to the boat where Mrs. Jones awaited her.

"No questions now!" she said tersely. "Just go as fast as you can and telephone the police! Also call my father, Anthony Parker at the _Riverview Star_! Ask him to come here right away and bring help!"

"You've found Danny Deevers!" the widow guessed, preparing to cast off.

"Yes, and maybe the stolen money! But there's not a second to lose! Let me have your knife, and go as fast as you can!"

Without questioning the odd request, Mrs. Jones gave her the knife and seized a paddle. Penny shoved the skiff far out into the stream.

Then she turned and with a quick glance toward the woodshed, darted to the nearby fence. Rapidly she examined the wooden posts, searching for a V-shaped mark. She could find no slashes of any kind. At any moment she knew the men might emerge from the woodshed and see her.

"Somehow I've got to keep them here until Mrs. Jones brings the police!" she thought. "But how?"

Suddenly an idea came to her. It might not work, but there was an outside chance it would. With desperate haste, she slashed several posts with V-shaped marks.

"That may confuse them for a few minutes," she reasoned. "But not for long."

The door of the woodshed now had opened. Penny dropped flat in the tall weeds near the fence.

Without seeing her, the four men came with a spade and began to inspect posts scarcely a dozen yards from where the girl lay.

"Here's a marked one!" called Hod as he found one of the posts Penny had slashed.

In the darkness the men did not notice that the cut was a fresh one. They began to dig. Silently the work went on until a large hole had been excavated.

"Where's the money?" Ezekiel demanded. "Danny, if ye'r pullin' a fast one--"

"I tell you I buried it under a post!" the other insisted. "Thought it was farther down the fence, but this one was marked."

Ezekiel flashed his lantern full on the post which now had been tilted far over on its side.

"The post's marked," he confirmed. "Fresh new slashes."

"Let's see!" Danny exclaimed. He examined the marking briefly and straightened up. "I never made those cuts! Someone's tricked me!"

Excited by the discovery, the men now moved from post to post. Other slashes were found.

"Here's the one with my mark!" Danny cried, pointing to a post close to where Penny lay hidden. "Who slashed these others? Someone must have learned where I buried the money!"

"It does look kinda bad," said Ezekiel. "But there hain't been no diggin' by this post. Git busy, boys!"

Taking turns, Coon and Hod fell to with the spade. Soon they had uncovered three large tin cans filled with bank notes.

"It's all here!" Danny said jubilantly. "Every dollar!"

Ezekiel blew out the lantern light, looking carefully about the yard. "There hain't no time to divide the money now," he said. "We gotta git you through the swamp, Danny, before them snoopin' police come around. Bring the cans and come on! We're moving out o' here right now!"

Hod shuffled off to get the boat ready as the others each picked up a can and followed quickly.

CHAPTER
24
_UNDER THE FENCE POST_

Penny was tormented with worry as she saw the men walk hurriedly to the creek where they launched a flat-bottomed boat belonging to Ezekiel. Soon the craft was lost in the blackness of the swamp channel.

"There goes my chance to catch Danny and recover the stolen money!" she thought. "Oh, what can I do to prevent them from getting away?"

Another boat had been tied up at the dock, but Penny knew she never would dare enter the swamp alone at night. In any case, what chance would she have against four armed men?

"If only Mrs. Jones hadn't hurt her ankle!" she thought. "It will take her a long while to reach a telephone, and help may not get here for an hour!"

As Penny stood gazing gloomily toward the swamp, a shaft of light cut fleetingly across the water. The flash came from the headbeam of a car swinging up the lane to the Hawkins' house.

Not knowing who the arrivals might be, the girl stepped behind a tree to wait. Soon the car came closer, halting with a jerk.

From the sedan stepped Mr. Parker, Salt, and Jerry Livingston. Scarcely believing her eyes, Penny ran to meet them.

"Oh, Dad!" she cried. "You did get Mrs. Jones' message!"

"Message?" he inquired. "Why, no! We were worried because you had been gone so long, so we came out here to find you. What's this all about?"

Penny rapidly told of Danny's flight into the swamp with the stolen money.

"If Mrs. Jones reaches a phone, police should get here any minute!" she added.

"In the meantime, we can't let those men escape!" Mr. Parker exclaimed. "Salt, you stay here and wait for the police. If they don't come in ten minutes, go after them!"

"Sure, Chief!"

"Jerry, you come with me," the publisher directed, untying the boat at the dock. "We'll try to keep those men in sight and mark the way for police to follow."

As Penny followed Jerry into the boat, her father protested quickly:

"Penny, you know you can't go! Danny Deevers is a desperate character."

"If you expect to capture him, you'll have to take me, Dad. They'll probably follow the main channel to Black Island and beyond. You'll be lost before you've covered half the distance."

"All right, come along," Mr. Parker agreed unwillingly.

The boat shoved off into the cool night.

Fairly certain the Hawkins' boat would pass Lookout Point, Penny directed her father and Jerry to row toward it. Soon she caught a glimpse of a moving light through the trees.

"That's their boat!" she exclaimed. "Ezekiel must have lighted his lantern again!"

Scarcely had she spoken than those in the Parker craft were startled to hear a metallic pounding sound from the direction of the Hawkins' farmhouse.

"The dishpan signal!" Penny cried in dismay. "We forgot about Mrs. Hawkins! Evidently she saw us leave the dock and is warning her menfolks! Now they'll know someone is following them!"

Mr. Parker's face became very grave as the girl revealed the significance of the signal. Penny also told him what she and Mrs. Jones had learned on Black Island.

"Unarmed, we've no chance to capture those men," he commented. "Our best bet is to keep them in sight, marking the trail well for police to follow."

"And hope they do," Jerry added grimly.

Breaking overhanging tree limbs, and slashing trunks to blaze the trail, the party passed Lookout Point.

When they were perhaps twenty yards beyond the isle, a bullet suddenly whizzed through the trees, only a few feet above their heads. The shot had been fired from the island.

"Duck low!" Mr. Parker ordered. "They've taken refuge there!"

As the trio remained motionless, another bullet whined over their heads.

"Dad, it's only a trick to divert us!" Penny whispered. "One of the Hawkins' boys probably has stayed on the island, but the others have gone on! See through the trees!"

Jerry and Mr. Parker peered where she pointed and caught the brief flash of lantern light.

"You're right!" the publisher agreed. "Row on, Jerry! We're practically out of range of Lookout Point now."

The boat pushed on. A light mist was rising from the water and the night was very dark. Shielded by the blackness, the trio slipped away without becoming the target for another bullet.

"We've got to keep that other boat in sight!" Mr. Parker said grimly. "If we lose it, we may never find our way out of this place!"

"And if we catch up, we may never be allowed to get out!" Jerry observed.

Penny, who scarcely had taken her eyes from the moving point of light ahead, now exclaimed:

"They've blown out the lantern!"

"Then they may have seen us," Mr. Parker muttered. "If only we were armed!"

Cautiously, the party proceeded. A few minutes later as the boat passed a high point of land several hundred yards deeper in the swamp, another bullet whizzed dangerously close overhead.

"Where'd that come from?" Mr. Parker demanded, shielding Penny with his body.

Jerry pointed to the high point of land on the right hand side of the channel. "Those birds must have pulled up there and hope to pick us off!" he whispered.

Still another bullet whined close over their heads, splashing as it struck the water.

Hurriedly Jerry steered the boat into a clump of bushes. All remained motionless and silent.

Bullets kept splattering the water, though farther away.

"We're in a pocket!" Mr. Parker fumed. "They can pick us off almost at will if we stay here!"

"What's our move, Chief?" Jerry asked anxiously.

"Let's back-track to the farm and await police. It's the only thing we can do."

As a lull came in the firing, Jerry shoved off and rowed rapidly back toward Lookout Point. All crouched low in the boat, but no shots were fired at them.

"They're satisfied we've turned back," Mr. Parker said. "That was what they wanted."

However, as Lookout Point loomed up, the party was disconcerted to see a tall, lean figure silhouetted there.

"Stay where ye be, or I'll fire!" the man shouted. "If ye try to pass, I'll sink ye'r boat!"

"It's Ezekiel!" Penny whispered.

Mr. Parker signaled Jerry to row back out of range. "We've trapped ourselves between two fires!" he muttered in disgust. "Ezekiel stayed here on purpose to guard the channel while the others make their getaway."

"Danny could be captured easily if only we could get word to Salt and the police," Jerry added.

Penny and her father nodded gloomily. Salt, they knew, would follow their trail into the swamp as soon as police reached the Hawkins' farm. But Ezekiel from his point of vantage, would fire upon them before they realized they were running into danger.

"We could chance it and try to push through," Jerry proposed.

"Ezekiel's not bluffing," Mr. Parker replied. "Those first shots were a warning. If we attempt to pass now, he may shoot to kill."

"There's one way we might bring help," Jerry said, staring thoughtfully at the grim figure guarding the channel.

"How?" Penny demanded eagerly.

"You and your father would have to wait on the bank and let me take the boat."

"Too risky," Mr. Parker said. "You never could get through."

"I'd try an old trick," the reporter explained. "When Ezekiel starts shooting, I'll upset the boat and float beneath it until I'm past the point. I'm a good swimmer and can hold my breath a long while. Anyway, after the boat is upset, there will be a pocket of air beneath it."

"It might not work."

"Let me try it. Unless we get word through, Danny Deevers is certain to escape."

After lengthy whispered debate, Mr. Parker reluctantly agreed to the plan. Retreating beyond Ezekiel's range of vision, the boat brought up on shore where Penny and her father alighted.

"Wait right here!" Jerry directed. "I'll be back for you in a few minutes!"

Boldly the reporter pushed off alone in the boat, drifting down channel. Before he had gone many yards, Ezekiel challenged him.

"Ye come another foot, and I'm lettin' ye have it!"

Jerry shouted an insult. But as Ezekiel's gun spat, he upset the boat, disappearing beneath it.