Penny sensed that the old man was unwilling to express his true opinion. He stared moodily at the sluggish water, lost in deep thought.
“The Hawkins’ are up to something!” Penny declared. She was tempted to reveal what she and Salt had seen a few nights before on the swamp road, but held her tongue.
“After all, what do I know about Joe?” she reflected. “He may be a close friend of the Hawkins family for all his talk about them being a shiftless lot.”
Penny remained silent. Sensing her disappointment because he had not talked more freely, Trapper Joe presently remarked:
“You know, things goes on in the swamp that it’s best not to see. Sometimes it hain’t healthy to know too much.”
“What things do you mean?” Penny asked quickly.
Old Joe however, was not to be trapped by such a direct question.
“Jest things,” he returned evasively. “Purty here, hain’t it?”
The guide was now paddling along a sandy shore. Overhead on a bare tree branch, two racoons drowsed after their midday meal.
“In this swamp there’s places where no man has ever set foot,” the guide continued. “Beyond Black Island, in the heart o’ the swamp, it’s as wild as when everything belonged to the Indians.”