Part 4
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As the three sped back the way they had come in the swamp buggy, Woody and Cindy Mae pondered over the events at Crowley's.
"I still wonder what's up with that dog whistle, Woody." said Cindy Mae. "What would an old hermit lady need with one?"
"You got me, Cindy Mae." said Woody. "Not to mention that old trap Buford found."
"Could be she used it to catch her own meals, and stuff for those potions of hers." Cindy Mae said. "But it looked more like something trappers would use-people who sell animals for their furs."
"Hey!" said Woody suddenly. "Ah found somethin' else!"
Buford , splayed out on the prow of the swamp buggy as usual, was suddenly roused as Woody plucked something that had come stuck in his collar. "What?" he said in surprise.
"What are these?" Woody asked. "They must have gotten themselves stuck in Buford's collar when that stuff fell on him. They looked like playing cards. But they're double-sided! They must be trick cards, like the ones magicians use."
Cindy Mae took the cards and looked at them. They were larger than normal cards, one with 7-of-diamonds on each side, the other with 8 –of-clubs.
"Maybe she uses them to tell fortunes or something." Woody said.
"Could be." said Cindy Mae. "But fortune-tellers usually use Tarot cards. These look more like something a professional magician would use. Strange they'd be in a place like that!"
"Hey, look there!" Woody said. "It's some kind of boat."
"Where?"
"Over there, parked over by that there island."
"Let's get closer."
Woody slowed the buggy down as they approached the other boat. It was much larger than theirs, and had four search-lights attached. But the lights were off, and the boat appeared to be abandoned. On the side were the words Florida Department of Conservation.
"Hoppin' horntoads!" Woody exclaimed. "It must belong to them Tarkins boys.""Ya know Woody," said Cindy Mae. "There's somethin' mighty fishy 'bout that."
"What makes you say that, Sis?"
"Well, the Tarkins boys were headed in the other direction when they left Huffsteaders. And not only that, Jenna Crowely said that Woundfoot would still be in that area. She said she told Bill and Steve Tarkins the same thing."
"So what's their boat doing here?"
"Right!" said Cindy Mae. "Let's check it out!"
At the Fenokee County Sheriff's office, Deputy Goofer McGee lounged back in his chair, enjoying the latest issue of Captain Good. The Captain's winning smile and gleaming white teeth were displayed prominately on the cover.
"Goofer!" yelled Sheriff Muletrain, as he entered from the front door. "Ah told you to finish up on those reports. Git back to work."
"But Golly, Sheriff, this is important. This here's the issue ah've been a-waitn' for. The one where Captain good is on the planet of no-goodnicks 'an-"
"Goofer! Go git me a cup of coffee. 'An be careful while yer at it! I'll
handle the paper work for now!"
As Goofer went to the coffee machine, Sheriff Muletrain squeezed his overweight body into the chair. He cast one eye at Goofer then picked up the comic, and started reading where Goofer had left off.
There was a sudden knock at the door. Muletrain quickly shoved the comic under a pile of documents. "See who that is, Goofer."
"Rawt away, Sheriff", Goofer, who was just returning with a cup of coffee, quickly turned toward the door, accidently throwing the entire contents of the cup onto the sheriff, drenching his uniform, and ruining some of the documents.
"Goofer!"
"Oops. Sorry 'bout thet, Sheriff!" Goofer opened the door and gasped to see that it was Tom Jenkins. Jenkins, like the Huffsteaders owned a stockade near Fenokee swamp.
"Well, if it aint 'ol Mr. Jenkins from over Sassafras Creek. How ya doin' Mr. Jenkins? Anything we lawmen can help ya with?"
Tom Jenkins didn't seem at all pleased. "Howdy, Goofer. Yep, I got some trouble all right."
"What kind of trouble?" asked the sheriff.
"Same kind other folks is having. I'll be straight with you, sheriff. Somethin' made off with one of my hogs tonight. 'An ah thought you had this situation under control!"
"He does have it under control!" said Goofer. "Why, the sheriff hired the best animal control officers in the state!"
"That's right, I did. They should have captured the critter by now."
"Well, they're not doing it fast enough." said Jenkins. "The way I figure, there's two dangerous critters on the loose. I'd 'preciate it if you'd investigate."
"We'll be right on it, sir. Don't you fret. C'mon Goofer."
"Just follow me in my pickup." said Jenkins.
"Goll-ee Sheriff!" exclaimed Goofer. "Think there really are two critters?"
"I'm not sure, Goofer. But I think maybe those kids were right. There's too many animals going missing. 'An Jenkins' place is a long way from Huffsteader's. Something strange is going on here."
Back in the swamp, the kids and Buford landed their buggy on the island, some distance from the Tarkins' boat They landed on a bar surrounded by tall reeds they hoped would hide them from suspicious characters. Buford got off the prow, and jumped onto the bar. At once he began sniffing for more clues.
"We'll backtrack around to that boat," said Cindy Mae. "and try to find out where those men went."
Before long, Buford struck onto a trail. It was the scent of two men, and it was fresh. The men had passed this way not more than an hour ago. The scent grew stronger until Buford hit on a fresh set of footprints.
"Hey! Buford's found a set of tracks. Must be them Tarkins' characters."
"Bet you're right, Woody. Let's see where they lead."
Buford was well ahead of them. He shuffled along through the darkness of the swamptrees, sniffing the prints, until his nose detected the scent of corroded metal. Following the odor, he pulled back a thick cluster of swamp-weeds to find an array of steel traps, just like the one at Jenna Crowley's! But these traps looked far older, and were partially rusted, like they had been set out for some time. They also looked as though they had not been set to catch animals, but that someone was trying to hide them.
""Buford's found some more of them traps!" said Woody, bending over Buford, to give them a look.
'An look here, Woody." Said Cindy Mae, who was standing some distance from them, pointing to the ground. "There's another set of prints here. And look at this! Those are the tracks of a big cat, like the ones at Huffsteaders."
"By gum yore right, Sis," said Woody as he joined her to gaze at the ground. "That means there's three men! An' they must have caught the panther. But what are they doing, leading him on a lease?"
"But lookee here! These panther prints are different!"
"They are?"
"Take a look. This cat's paw doesn't look damaged, like the one at Huffsteaders!"
Buford, meanwhile was still examining the rusted tangle of traps when someone handed him a short, cylindrical object. It looked like some kind of small, plastic spyglass. Almost without thinking Buford put it to his right eye to better examine the clues. Shrill, mischievous laughter erupted behind him. Buford looked at his face in a nearby pool of swamp water. The spyglass had left a black circle around his right eye. Angerly, Buford splashed water from the pool onto the black ring, washing it away. He glared behind him, growling in menace.
Not more than three feet away from him, snickering like a Japanese imp, was the Little Raccoon.
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