“All right,” the reporter agreed. “But I wish you weren’t in on this.”
From the tiny window of the cabin, he and Penny observed various landmarks as the boat proceeded downstream. Perhaps half an hour elapsed before the cruiser came to the mouth of a narrow river which emptied into the Kobalt. From that point on progress became slow and often the boat was so close to shore that Penny could have reached out and touched overhanging bushes.
“I didn’t know this stream was deep enough for a motor boat,” Jerry whispered. “We must be heading for a hide-out deep in the swamp.”
“I hope Salt has sense enough to call Dad and the police,” Penny said with the first show of nervousness. “We’re going to be a long way from help.”
The boat crept on for perhaps a mile. Then it stopped, and Penny assumed they had reached their destination. Gazing out of the window again, she saw why they were halted. A great tree with finger-like branches had fallen across the river, blocking the way.
“Look, Jerry,” she whispered. “We’ll not be able to go any farther.”
“Guess again,” the reporter muttered.
Penny saw then that one of the men had left the boat and was walking along shore. He seemed not in the least disturbed by the great tree and for the first time it dawned upon her that it served a definite purpose.
“Lift ’er up, Gus,” called the man at the wheel of the boat.
His companion disappeared into the bushes. Several minutes elapsed and then Penny heard a creaking sound as if ropes were moving on a pulley.