“Listen, Tony!” Penny said hurriedly. “I’ve got to go away for awhile! Will you stay here and keep watch of these men for me?”
“I stay,” the boy promised soberly.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can. And Tony! Please don’t run away. I want to do something for you—perhaps I can.”
“No go back to Italy,” the boy said firmly. “Stay-a here—you come back. Then go far away. No trust pol-eese.”
Penny dared not take time to try to convince the youth of the folly of fleeing from Immigration authorities. Saying goodbye, she ran to the boat where the Widow Jones anxiously awaited her.
“Shove off!” she ordered tersely. “I’ve seen plenty! I’ll tell you about it, once we’re away from here!”
Mrs. Jones gave a mighty push with her pole, and the skiff floated out of its hiding place into the hyacinth-clogged channel.
“How is your foot?” Penny inquired. “Better let me paddle.”
“It hain’t hurtin’ so much now,” the widow replied without giving up the paddle. “I’ll steer until we’re out o’ these floatin’ hyacinth beds.”
“One place looks exactly like another to me,” Penny said anxiously. “So many false channels!”