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 pointwhere Coon Hawkins sat fishing.
"Howdy!" called the trapper.
"Howdy," responded Coon, his gaze on the bobbing cork.
"Seen anything of a dog on the island?"
"Hain't no animal hereabouts," Coon replied.
"'Pears like the gals has lost a dog," said the old trapper, dipping hispaddle again. "We're landin' to have a look around."
Coon's gaze shifted from the cork to the party in the boat. He scowledand 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 fewdays earlier.
"Have a keer," he advised as the girls trod through the muck. "Watch outfer snakes."
"Here are Bones' tracks!" Louise cried a moment later, spying the printswhich led away from the shore.
A short distance in, the tracks abruptly ended, but nearby were prints ofa man's shoe and larger ones made from a heavy boot.
Trapper Joe noted them in silence, signaling for Penny and Louise to makeno comment.
"Wait here while I look around," he instructed.
Penny and Louise sat down on a mossy log to wait. Coon paid them no heed,completely ignoring their presence. The sun climbed higher overhead.
Presently the old trapper returned, his clothing soaked withperspiration.
"Did you see anything of Bones?" Louise asked eagerly.
"Nary a sign. The dog hain't on the island."
"Told ye, didn't I?" Coon demanded triumphantly.
"That ye did, son," agreed Trapper Joe. "We'll be gittin' along." On hisway to the skiff, he asked carelessly: "Come here offen, do ye?"
"When I feels like it," Coon 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 toreturn 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 keeplooking."
"If the dog was still alive, it hain't likely he'd of swum away from theisland."
"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," Pennyurged, 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 slowlyturned the skiff. As he sought a sluggish channel leading deeper into theswamp, Penny noticed that Coon Hawkins had shifted his position on thepoint, the better to watch them.
The skiff moved on into gloomy water deeply shadowed by overhanging treelimbs. Only then did Penny ask the trapper what he thought really hadhappened to Louise's dog.
"'Tain't easy to say," he replied, resting on the paddle a moment andtaking 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 toreveal 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 closefriend of the Hawkins family for all his talk about them being ashiftless lot."
Penny remained silent. Sensing her disappointment because he had nottalked 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 shore. Overhead on a bare treebranch, two racoons drowsed after their midday meal.
"In this swamp there's places where no man has ever set foot," the guidecontinued. "Beyond Black Island, in the heart o' the swamp, it's as wildas 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 dayswithout 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 yerway through a maze o' channels 'till ye come to the main one which takesye to the Door River."
"You've made the trip?"
"Did when I was young. Hain't been to Black Island in years lately."
"How long does the trip take?"
"Not many hours if ye know the trail. But if ye take a wrong twist, y'erapt to wind up anywheres. We're headin' toward Black Island now."
"Then why not go on?" cried Penny eagerly. "It's still early."
The old guide shook his head as he paddled into deeper water. "It's jesta long, hard row and there hain't nothin' there. I'm takin' ye to a placewhere some purty pink orchids grow. Then we'll turn back."
Penny suddenly sat up very straight, listening intently.
From some distance away came a faint, metallic pounding sound.
"What's that noise?" she asked, puzzled.
The old trapper also was listening alertly.
Again the strange noise was repeated. Bing-ping-ping! Ping-ping!
"It sounds like someone pounding on a sheet of metal!" exclaimed Penny."I'd say it's coming from the edge of the swamp--perhaps Lookout Island!"
The trapper nodded, still listening.
Again they heard the pounding which seemed in a queer pattern of dots anddashes.
"It's a code!" Penny declared excitedly. "Perhaps a message is being sentto someone hiding here in the swamp!"
"In all the times I've been in these waters, I never before heard nothin'like that," the guide admitted. "I wonder--"
"Yes?" Penny prodded eagerly.
But the old guide did not complete the thought. The boat now was driftingin a narrow run where boughs hung low over the water, causing the threeoccupants to lean far forward to avoid being brushed.
A tiny scream came from Louise's lips. The bow of the skiff where she sathad poked its nose against a protruding tree root.
Within inches of her face, staring unblinkingly into her eyes, was alarge, ugly reptile!