“That’s what I’m a-thinkin’. If I could see the bullet that was fired, I could tell fer sure.”
“The boar disappeared and the bullet with him,” Penny said. “That’s another queer thing.”
“Whoever kilt the critter may have drug him off, or maybe the animal was only stunned.” The guide squinted at the lowering sun. “I’d like powe’ful well to see the place, but it’s gitten late. We gotta git back.”
“What did you learn at Black Island?” Louise asked as she and Penny climbed into the skiff.
“Never got half way there,” the guide said in disgust. “Since I went in last time, the main channel’s clogged thick with hyacinths. To find yer way in now’s a half day’s job.”
“Can’t we try again tomorrow?” Penny asked eagerly.
The old guide gazed at her quizzically as he dipped his paddle. “Hain’t ye had enough o’ the swamp after today, young’un?”
“When that old boar came for me, I told myself if ever I got safely away, I’d never come again. But that was only a passing impulse. Black Island interests me.”
“It’s the most dangerous part of the swamp.”
“Because of wild animals, you mean?”