Swamp Island Part 22

"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 c.o.o.n 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 c.o.o.n. He won't hurt ye. Harmless, ole c.o.o.n is, an' mighty shiftless too."

"But is c.o.o.n 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 c.o.o.n Hawkins sat fishing.

"Howdy!" called the trapper.

"Howdy," responded c.o.o.n, his gaze on the bobbing cork.

"Seen anything of a dog on the island?"

"Hain't no animal hereabouts," c.o.o.n 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."

c.o.o.n'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 sh.o.r.e.

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. c.o.o.n 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?" c.o.o.n 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," c.o.o.n 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."