“Oh, I see,” smiled Jim. “Well, that is all, thank you.”
They left the woman standing in the doorway, frankly puzzled, and looked at the path that led into the swamp. Hudson looked at his watch.
“We’ve got time to follow the path a little way, at least,” he announced. “The fact that the man goes into the swamp may not have any bearing on the thing at all, and then again, it may. I suppose you all think it worth looking into?”
They all agreed on that point and took the path into the swamp. When they had entered the dark, rank woods they were compelled to spread out in single file and keep to the path, which in some places was little more than a mere ribbon. A false step would have meant a wet and muddy foot. Thick bushes grew close to the path and brushed against their coats as they made their way into the damp swamp.
“This is a first class swamp, by golly,” commented Vench. “That guy must have something good in here to make him want to dive into a place like this very often.”
After they had followed the path for at least a quarter of a mile, they came to a kind of island in the midst of the swamp mud. The ground here was a little harder than the rest, although it did not take a very determined kick to drive a heel down into soft black soil. They spread out on this island and beyond a clump of bushes they came upon a ramshackle hut.
“Hooray, there is the castle before us!” cried Terry.
“A hobo’s castle, by the looks of it,” Don said, as they approached it. “Hope there’s nobody here now.”
The hut was not large and appeared to be about the size of a one-car garage. A door, which was closed, faced them, and one window was in the place, a glassless window that stared at them like a vacant eye. Hudson thrust his head cautiously in this opening.
“Only empty space greets us,” he said.