Swamp Island Part 31

"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 sh.o.r.e.

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

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

"Then you hain't fis.h.i.+n'."

"'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 ash.o.r.e.

"Ye got a watch?" she asked.