CHAPTER XXI.
A CHANNEL IN THE SWAMP
The wind was from the shore and Gib suggested that the small sail be run up. This was soon done and away the little craft went bounding over the evenly rolling waves and, before very many minutes, the point was rounded and the swamp reached.
“Where is the airplane anchored?” Nann inquired, peering curiously into the cove which was unoccupied by craft of any kind.
“Well, we aren’t sure as to that,” Dick told her, speaking softly as though fearing to be overheard. “We climbed to the top of the rocks and lay there for hours, or so it seemed to me. We were waiting for the tide to turn so we could go out in the punt. But all the time we were there we didn’t see or hear anything of the airplane or the pilot. Of course, since it’s a seaplane, too, it’s probably anchored over beyond the marsh.
“Now my theory is that the pilot has a little tender and that in it he rowed up the creek and probably, right this very minute, he is in the old ruin, and like as not if we go up there we will meet him face to face.”
“Br-r-r!” Dories shuddered and her eyes were big and round. “Don’t you think we’d better wait here? We could hide the punt in the reeds and watch who comes out. You wouldn’t want to meet—a—a—”
Dories was at a loss to conjecture who they might meet, but Gib chimed in with, “Don’t care who ’tis!” Then, looking anxiously at the girl who had spoken, he said, “’Pears we’d ought to’ve left you at home. ’Pears like we’d ought.”
The boy looked so truly troubled that Dories assumed a courage she did not feel. “No, indeed, Gib! If you three aren’t afraid to meet whoever it is, neither am I. Row ahead.”
Thus advised, the lad lowered the small sail, and the two boys rowed the punt to the opening in the marsh.
It was just wide enough for the punt to enter. “Wall, we uns can’t use the oars no further, that’s sure sartin.” Gib took off his cap to scratch his ear as he always did when perplexed.