The Duck Blind
Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered.
Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until we find it."
"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat hook out like a spear, pointing.
Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the stern.
"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream another six feet."
Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back.
"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow."
The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy."
The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one side to the other as the channel shifted.