“There’s lots wuss things than animals,” said the old guide soberly.
“For instance?”
Trapper Joe ignored Penny’s question. Becoming as one deaf, he propelled the skiff with powerful strokes.
Penny waited patiently, but the guide showed no inclination to say more about Black Island.
“Shall we make it tomorrow?” she inquired presently.
“Make what?” Joe’s wrinkled face was blank.
“Why, I mean, shall we visit Black Island!”
“I hate to disappoint ye, but we hain’t a-goin’.”
“You may be busy tomorrow. Later in the week perhaps?”
“Not tomorrer nor never. I hain’t takin’ the responsibility o’ bringin’ ye young’uns into the swamp agin.”