“Fellow by the name of Jack Sladek who landed at Atkinson last night was flying over the river in an amphibian,” replied Tim. “He took a few shots at me and I’ve an idea he thought he was shooting at you.”
“He probably did,” agreed Ford. “Well, since you’ve come this far you might as well come ashore. I see you discovered that ‘Mr. Seven’ was just an assumed name.”
“I didn’t find out until last night and then with the coming of Sladek, things commenced to click. You know what I’m after.”
Ford nodded. “You want a story about my plans to hunt for the treasure in the Southern Queen?”
“Right. The fact that both you and Sladek are here in this valley is enough to make a rattling good story. I’d rather have facts but if I can’t get them I’ll have to do a little guess work and I’ve a hunch I can come pretty close at that. Crazy John came to the valley nine or ten years ago and the Southern Queen disappeared eleven years ago.”
“And you think Crazy John knows where the Queen sunk and that both Sladek and myself are after the information?”
“Right again.”
Ford laughed. “I’ll confess I admire your nerve. Of course you knew the reputation Crazy John has for shooting anyone who prowls around his island.”
“I knew that,” grinned Tim, “but I hadn’t figured on being shot at from an airplane. That was a little uncomfortable.”
“Pull your boat in,” said Ford. Then, turning to the former sailor, he added. “It’s all right, John. This young man is a friend of mine. We may need his help before the night is over.”