Thus urged, Penny backed toward the skiff. Stumbling over a vine, she caught her balance and scrambled awkwardly into the boat.
Louise pushed off with the oars, stroking fast until they were well out into the channel. Only then did she give vent to anger.
“That mean man! Now we’ve lost Bones for good. We’ll never get him back.”
“Maybe we will.”
“How? We’ll never dare row back there today. He’s still watching us.”
Penny nodded, knowing that anything she might say would carry clearly over the water.
The stranger had not moved since the skiff had pulled away. Like a grim statue, he stood in the shadow of a towering oak, gazing straight before him.
“Who does he think he is anyhow?” Louise demanded, becoming bolder as they put greater distance between themselves and the island. “Does he own this swamp?”
“He seems to think he does—or at least this section of it. Don’t feel too badly about Bones, Lou. We’ll come back tomorrow and find him.”
“Tomorrow may be too late. He’ll be hopelessly lost, or maybe that man will shoot him! Oh, Penny, Bones was such a cute little dog. He always brought me the morning paper, and he knew so many clever tricks.”