Crazy John went into the cabin to pick up a few belongings he wanted to take and Tim had a chance to speak to Ford.
“Do I get the story?” he asked.
“If we get out of this all right, I’ll do the best I can,” promised Ford.
Tim had to be satisfied with that, for it was imperative that they get away from the island.
Crazy John reappeared, this time with a duffle bag, and he set off down the path ahead of them. He tossed his bag in Tim’s boat and climbed in.
“Where’s your boat?” Tim asked Ford.
“It’s half way around the island. We’ll pick it up on our way out.”
With experienced hands, the old sailor started the outboard and they shot out into the shallow bayou. With a skill born of long acquaintance with the river, Crazy John guided the boat between snags and always found safe water. They nosed into a cove and picked up Ford’s boat, which they took in tow.
From the river itself they could hear the thunder of the motors of the amphibian as the pilot taxied it up and down stream hunting for the opening of the bayou which led to Crazy John’s island.
“Good thing they’re not in the air. They’d spot us in a minute,” said Ford.