Swamp Island

With slow, smooth strokes, Penny Parker sent the flat-bottomed skiff cutting through the still, sluggish water toward a small point of wooded land near the swamp's edge.

In the bottom of the boat, her dark-haired companion, Louise Sidell, sat with her hand resting carelessly on the collar of her dog, Bones, who drowsed beside her. The girl yawned and shifted cramped limbs.

"Let's go home, Penny," she pleaded. "We have all the flowers you'll need to decorate the banquet tables tonight."

"But not all I want," Penny corrected with a grin. "See those beautiful Cherokee roses growing over there on the island point? They're nicer than anything we have."

"Also harder to get."

Louise craned her neck to gaze at the wild, tangled growth which rose densely from the water's edge.

"Remember," she admonished, "when Trapper Joe rented us this boat his last words were: 'Don't go far, and stay in the skiff.'"

"After we gather the flowers, we'll start straight home, Lou. We're too near the edge of the swamp to lose our way."

Disregarding Louise's frown, Penny tossed a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes, and dug in again with the oars.

A giant crane, disturbed by the splash, flapped up from the tall water grass. As he trumpeted angrily, Bones stirred and scrambled to his feet.

"Quiet, Bones!" Louise ordered, giving him a reassuring pat. "It's only a saucy old crane."

The dog stretched out on the decking again, but through half-closed eyes watched the bird in flight.

"Lou, hasn't it been fun, coming here today?" Penny demanded in a sudden outbreak of enthusiasm. "I've loved every minute of it!"

"You certainly have! But it's getting late and we're both hot and tired. If you must have those flowers, let's get them quickly and start home."

The two girls, students at Riverview high school, had rented the skiff early that afternoon from Trapper Joe Scoville, a swamper who lived alone in a shack at the swamp's edge.

For three hours now, they had idled along the entrance channel, gathering water lilies, late-blooming Cherokee roses, yellow jessamine, and iris.

The excursion had been entirely Penny's idea. That night in a Riverview hotel, her father, Anthony Parker, publisher of the Riverview Star, was acting as host to a state newspapermen's convention. He had handed Penny twenty dollars, with instructions to buy flowers for the banquet tables.

Penny, with her usual flare for doing things differently, had decided to save the money by gathering swamp blooms.

"These flowers are nicer than anything we could have bought from a florist," she declared, gazing appreciatively at the mass of blooms which dripped water in the basket at her feet.

"And think what you can do with twenty dollars!" her chum teased.

"Seventeen. Remember, we owe Trapper Joe three dollars for boat rental."

"It will be four if we don't call it a day. Let's get the flowers, if we must, and start home."

"Fair enough," Penny agreed.

Squinting at the lowering sun, she guided the skiff to a point of the low-lying island. There she held it steady while her chum stepped out on the spongy ground.

Bones, eager to explore, leaped after her and was off in a flash before Louise could seize his collar.

Penny followed her chum ashore, beaching her skiff in a clump of water plants. "This place looks like a natural haunt for cottonmouths or moccasins," she remarked. "We'll have to watch out for snakes."

Already Louise was edging along in the soft muck, alertly keeping an eye upon all overhead limbs from which a poisonous reptile might drop.