With never a glance toward the leafy hideout, Hod shoved off, rowing deeper into the swamp.
“Dare we follow him?” whispered Penny.
“That’s what I aim to do,” the Widow Jones rejoined grimly. “I hain’t afeared o’ the likes o’ Hod Hawkins! Moreover, fer a long time, I been calculatin’ to find out what takes him and Coon so offen into the swamp.”
“You mean recently don’t you, Mrs. Jones. Just since Danny Deevers escaped from prison?”
“I don’t know nothin’ about Danny Deevers,” the widow replied as she picked up the paddle again. “I do know that the Hawkins’ been up to mischief fer more’n a year.”
“Then you must have an idea what that city truck was doing on the swamp road the other night.”
“An idear—yes,” agreed Mrs. Jones. “But I hain’t sure, and until I am, I hain’t makin’ no accusations.”
Now that Hod’s boat was well away, the widow noiselessly sent the skiff forward.
“We kin follow close enough to jest about keep him in sight if we don’t make no noise,” she warned. “But we gotta be keerful.”
Penny nodded and became silent.