The Wishing Well Part 37

"Without Crocker's story we have no more evidence than we ever had," Mr.

Parker declared in disgust.

Penny tapped the big rock with the half-completed carving. "You have this stone, Dad. If you could photograph it in this unfinished state, wouldn't it tell its own story?"

"We have no camera here, and the river is rising fast. How long would it take you to get to town and back, Jerry?"

"I might make it in thirty minutes."

"Before that time, this shack will be under water."

Anxiously, Mr. Parker gazed at the dark, angry flood which swept so close to the door of the cabin. Inch by inch it was eating away a board walk which led to a pier and a boat tied to it.

"Dad!" Penny suddenly cried. "If only we could get this stone into the boat we could float it to Riverview!"

"Not a chance," Mr. Parker returned briefly. "Both would sink."

"We're completely out of luck," added Jerry. "At the rate the water is coming up, this shack will be awash in another fifteen minutes."

"Dad," Penny went on determinedly, "if we could make a heavy raft, couldn't the stone be floated? It might be towed behind the boat."

"A raft? There's nothing from which to make one."

"Yes, there is!" Penny pointed to several barrels, up-ended in a dark corner of the shop.

"It's an idea!" cried Jerry. "We have Crocker's tools! This story means a lot to you, Chief. Isn't it worth a try?"

"Maybe it is," Mr. Parker conceded, and then with sudden enthusiasm: "Let's get to work. By moving fast we may yet outwit Old Man River!"

CHAPTER 25 _PRECIOUS CARGO_

Working with feverish haste, Mr. Parker and Jerry constructed a raft of eight empty barrels, wiring them together into one solid unit. Penny aided the two men as best she could, holding tools and offering suggestions which were not especially appreciated.

"Run outside and see that the boat is all right," Mr. Parker instructed her. "We mustn't let it float away."

Obeying, Penny discovered that already the river was flowing in a shallow, muddy stream over the pier. The swift current tugged at the underpinning, threatening to carry it away. Wading through the water, she reached the boat and drew it close to the shack where she retied it.

By the time she finished, her father and Jerry had completed the raft.

"How will you ever get the stone on it?" Penny asked anxiously. "It must weigh several hundred pounds."

"Just watch," grinned Jerry.

During Penny's absence, he and Mr. Parker had constructed a small square platform of rough boards, equipped with four tiny rollers. Getting the stone on it, they were able to trundle it outside to the raft with a minimum of exertion.

"Now dump her on easy," Mr. Parker ordered Jerry. "If she sinks, our story sinks too."

Together they rolled the heavy stone from the platform to the raft which immediately began to settle beneath the great weight.

"It's going under!" Penny screamed.

As the three watched anxiously, the raft steadied and rode just beneath the surface of the water.

"She floats!" Jerry cried jubilantly. "Now unless we have an upset or strike an object in the river, we should make it to the Adams Street pier."

"We'll have a _Star_ paper truck meet us there, and haul the rock to the newspaper plant," Mr. Parker added with satisfaction. "Let's shove off!"

Penny had untied the rowboat. However, as she prepared to step into it, her father pulled her back.

"This little trip isn't for you, Penny. We might upset."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dad," she argued. "You know very well I can swim circles around you. If the boat does go under, you'll be glad to have me along."

"Maybe you're right," the editor conceded. "Jump in."

Water was flowing over the floor of the Crocker shack as the boat and the c.u.mbersome raft started downstream. Jerry, who had elected to steer, found himself hard pressed to keep the prow nosing into the waves. Mr.

Parker pulled without much enthusiasm at an extra oar supplied him, content to allow the swift current to do most of the work.

"Isn't it fun?" Penny demanded, snuggling close to her father. "Just look at the beautiful stars!"

"Look at the river," Mr. Parker retorted. "Do you realize that if we should strike a floating object--if that big rock should s.h.i.+ft--"

"And see the lovely moon," Penny went on dreamily. "I think it's laughing at the joke we're going to play on Jay Franklin in the morning."

"That old coot will get a shock when he reads the _Star_," Mr. Parker admitted, relaxing. "So will the publicity agent of the Indian Show. When I get through, the outfit won't dare put on a performance in Riverview."

"Do you suppose Franklin had any part in hiring Truman Crocker to fake those record stones?" Jerry asked, steering to avoid a floating box.

"Not in my opinion," the editor replied. "He merely thought he would profit by selling them to the museum at a fancy price. It was immaterial to him whether or not he sold fake stones or real."

"You'll certainly ruin his little business transaction," chuckled Penny.

"What will be done about Truman Crocker?"

"We'll find him tomorrow and force him to tell the truth--that he was hired by Bill McJavins. With this stone as evidence, he can't deny his part in the hoax."

"Can't you just see that special edition of the _Star_?" Penny asked gaily. "A big splashy picture of this Pilgrim Rock we're towing, with a story telling how Truman Crocker faked the writing. Then, in the next column, a yarn about Mr. Addison's arrest, and the recovery of the Marborough pearls."

"It will be a real paper," Mr. Parker agreed heartily. "By the way, how were Mr. Coaten and Carl Addison trapped? Our reporter got the story from the police, but he was a bit vague on that point."

"I'm far too modest to tell you," Penny laughed. "If you're willing to pay me at regular s.p.a.ce rates, I might be induced to write the story."

"Trust Penny to drive a hard bargain," grinned Jerry. "We might have guessed who was responsible, for she never fails to be on hand for the final round-up."

Penny smiled as she gazed down the dark, turbulent river. Close by she heard the deep-throated whistle of a tug boat. Along the bank, tall buildings began to appear, and far ahead, she could see the twinkling lights on the Adams Street pier.

"We've worked on some dandy stories together," she murmured, "but this one tops them all for a thrilling finish. Mrs. Marborough regained her pearls, Rhoda won a home, the two men from Texas are behind bars, and the wis.h.i.+ng well is equipped with a brand new microphone! You know, I'd like to make one more wish down its moist old throat!"