“It hain’t likely they’d be comin’ here after nightfall. An’ that fire never was built by a swamper.”
“Then a stranger must be hiding in the area!” Penny cried. “Danny Deevers!”
“Maybe so, but Danny was city-bred and never could survive long in the wilds. One night here would likely be his last.”
“Supposing someone who knew the swamp were helping him?”
“Thet would make it easier, but it weren’t Danny Deevers who built this fire.”
“How can you be so positive?”
“Deevers was a big man, weren’t he?”
“Why, fairly large, I guess.”
“Then would he be leavin’ little tracks?” Joe pointed to several shoeprints visible in the soft muck. “This man, whoever he be, didn’t have anyone campin’ with him. Leastwise, there hain’t no tracks except from the one kind o’ shoe.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Penny, disappointed to have her theory exploded. “I wonder who did camp here?”