Swamp Island Part 32

"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 a.s.sured 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 sh.o.r.e 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. Pa.s.sing 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, s.h.i.+elded by leaves and dense shade.

"Hit's all-fired queer," they heard him mutter. "I sh.o.r.e didn't see no boat pa.s.s 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 sc.r.a.ping 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 c.o.o.n so offen into the swamp."

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