Part 23 (1/2)
”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 c.o.o.n Hawkins had s.h.i.+fted 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 s.h.i.+ftless 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 sh.o.r.e. Overhead on a bare tree branch, two rac.o.o.ns 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.”