Part 11
The Chase
Cindy Mae removed the gags from the two men, and she and Woody untied them. The two Tarkins' brothers got to their feet. "Much obliged, kids."
"You the Tarkins' boys?" Cindy Mae asked.
"Why, yes. I'm Steve Tarkins, and this is my brother Bill. We're form the Florida Department of Conservation. How did you know?"
"You mean we haven't met before?" asked Woody. He was dumbfounded at first, then realized that the man's voice wasn't the same.
"I don't believe we have." said Bill, equally puzzled.
"Well, don't tell me." said Cindy Mae pertly. "Sheriff Muletrain hired you to take care of some large animal raiding the Fenokee stockades. But some guys jumped you, 'an stole your van and yer uniforms. Then they tied you here. Is that about right?"
"That's the story, right enough." said Bill. They captured us in our boat out here in the swamp, and then they took us to this camp and tied us up. They must've stolen our van after that."
"An' we happen to know they've already pulled the wool over the sheriff's eyes." Cindy Mae added.
"Those two are poachers, just like we figured." said Woody. "But how-" he started, still wondering how the poachers and the real Tarkins' boys looked identical.
"Don't you know, Woody?" said Cindy Mae. "They're wearing latex masks, just like them scallywags tried to rob the Fenokee bank!"
"Glory be!" exclaimed Woody.
"An ah reckon, they're really locals. Just look at is place. They've been at it fer a long time. 'An look at this." She picked up a small object off one of the tables. It was a small whistle, just like the one Buford had found at Jenna Crowley's. Cindy Mae blew on it sharply. Almost at once, Buford and Duchess looked in her direction.
"Yep that's a dog whistle awright." Said Woody.
"Ah bet they use these whistles to train the cat that broke in at Jenkins." Cindy Mae said. "While all the time, they've been after the real Woundfoot!"
"They're poachers all right." agreed Steve Tarkins. "And they said there's a genuine black puma in Fenokee swamp, like we'd heard. They're out to catch him, and when they do, they're gonna bring his carcass back to this camp to skin and sell his hide on the black market, like they've been doing all along with these other critters. There's no telling how much the hide of a cat like that will bring!"
"Gosh sakes!" exclaimed Cindy Mae.
Buford's left ear went up at the mention of Woundfoot. As embarrassed as he felt about his last encounter with the cat, he really didn't want the poachers to skin him. Part of him wanted to get even with the puma, but he wasn't angry enough to want the cat dead. After all, Woundfoot, at least, wasn't a raccoon, and no animal could irritate him the way a raccoon could!
But still, the thought of running into him again filled him with dread. Would he be able to stand up to him this time, especially with Duchess around?
"You'll protect me, Buford." he heard Duchess say beside him, she rubbed against him. Once more, Buford felt renewed confidence. But now, here in the deep swamp, he still felt a twinge of fear. The puma seemed to consider Fenokee swamp his own territory now, and Buford had never met anyone so arrogant. Not even Sheriff Muletrain could approach the supreme arrogance he had seen in those smoldering orbs. But arrogant or not, there must be some way to get the better of the cat, if he met him again. If there was, Buford determined to find it.
"Let's get a move on 'afore them poacher guys get back." said Woody.
"Raht." Said Cindy Mae. "We'll walk you guys back to our swamp buggy, then we'll go find the sheriff 'an tell him the real story."
The all started in the swamp buggy's direction. When they got there, Steve Tarkins said "look- what's that yonder?"
Lights blazed out over the swamp. Lights from a large swamp boat. But it wasn't Mr. Martin's boat, as Woody first thought.
"It's our boat, kids," said Bill. "It's them poachers."
"Quick, let's hide!" said Cindy Mae. They all took cover among some bulrushes and cattails.
But just then the full moon drifted out from behind a cloud.
"Uh-oh" said Cindy Mae. "The moon's coming out. 'An 'ya know how the moon affects Buford."
"Doncha do it, Buford." Cautioned Woody.
But the hound was already mesmerized by the scintillating beam of frosty moonlight that engulfed him. Caught in its silvery glow, Buford's eyes spireled crazily. A long howl was threatening to burst from his throat. Entranced though he was, Buford realized the presence of the poachers, and reflexively clapped both paws over his mouth. But the dizzying effect of the moon was relentless. At last, eyes bugging out of his head from his own efforts to contain himself, Buford let loose with a long, full-throated howl at the shining disk above.
And out on the moon-bathed bayou, the poacher's boat swerved in their direction.
Then, slowly, the moon crept back beneath the thick veil of clouds. But it was too late. "They've seen us!" said Woody.
"In the swamp buggy, everyone!" yelled Cindy Mae.
They all clammered into the buggy. Buford, still shaking the effects of the moon from him, was the last to get in. Woody pulled the lever, as the engine and propeler roared to life. They cut away from the island heading for the open bayous. Cindy Mae looked back to see the larger craft also swerve. "Step on it, Woody."
They sliced through the black waters of Fenokee swamp, cutting a wide swath of water in their wake. The poachers also increased their speed. "They're gaining on us." said Buford.
"Buford says they're gaining." said Woody. "Maybe I can head 'em off!" He cut back toward the island, then swerved widely around its eastern flank.
"They're still coming, Woody." said Cindy Mae.
Woody them zoomed down a narrow channel, around a sand bar, and out into another bayou. Still, the poachers were in hot pursuit. Woody tore across the bayou, then raced down another channel. He knew his way around Fenokee swamp as well as anyone and better than most, but the poachers were still flagging them. In fact, they seemed to be catching up.
"It's no use, Woody," Cindy Mae said. "They're still raht on our tail."
"They've got a more powerful engine then us. " said Woody. "I don't know how much longer we can keep ahead of them."
Then, suddenly the swamp buggy was yanked to a halt. "What's wrong!" Woody exclaimed.
"They've got a grappling hook." mumbled Buford.
It was true. The kids' buggy was held fast by a long steel cable attached to a metal hook.
"They've got us, alright." Said Bill Tarkins. "And thy're reeling us in."
"'Friad yore right." Said Cindy Mae, wishing fervently that Buford could have kept his mouth shut. The buggy was reeled in until it was flank to flank with the poachers' craft. They could see two shadowy figures on board, but there was no trace of the mysterious fourth man whose tracks they had come upon in the woods. The shadowy forms raised a huge net and hurled it over the Tarkins brothers, Woody, Cindy Mae, Buford and Duchess.
A few minutes later, the six prisoners found themselves being hoisted in the net by the boat's crane. One of the poachers bound the ends of the net's rope to the over hanging branch of a cypress tree, so that the net and its captives were suspended just over the dark bayou water. As the captives peered down through the net, they could now see the faces of the two poachers clearly. They weren't wearing rubber masks this time.
They were both young men, like the real Tarkins brothers, but one was bald on top, and other had dark hair and a beard.
"Ah do know them two scallywags, Woody." said Cindy Mae.
"Ya do, Sis?"
"Ah seen 'em around before. But ah didn't know they was poachers! They's Mitch Crathers 'an Lou Danielson. They used to see 'm at the Drummond cafe, last time we worked there. Remember, Woody?'
"Yeah, 'ah shore do. Mitch used to into some kind of illegal gambling over at the old Foggart place. Ah wasn't shore 'bout thet till now. Looks like he and Lou were into some real shady business all along."
"Thet's raht, son," laughed Mitch Crathers. "We been poaching these waters some time now. It's always been worth the pay. But this time, we mean to git ourselves a panther!"
"Right." agreed Lou. " This time we're in for some real cash dollars, the kind you won't see in a lifetime. You can't imagine how easy it was to fool that sheriff and his pickle-brained deputy. But we always heard the stories around town how it was you Boggs kids who were really solving the cases. Sos we were prepared 'case you meddlesome brats and thet hound-dog of yers ever caught onto us."
"And now that you've done it, congrats!" said Mitch. "Only we'll bag that ornery painter 'an be long gone afore you can git out of thet there net. Thet is, if you get out. I'll bet some good cash on Lou here that them gators'al git ya'all first." The two men laughed and drove off in the stolen conservation boat.
"Thanks again for saving us, kids." said Steve Tarkins. "But looks like we're in for it now."
"Maybe the sheriff'll find us first." Woody offered.
"I hope so Woody." said Cindy Mae. But she didn't sound very hopeful.
Just then, the moon slipped out behind the clouds once more. And once more Buford went google- eyed as the moon's radience hit him square in the face.
"Oh no!" exclaimed Woody. "Not again!"
"Wait!" said Cindy Mae, "Maybe someone'll hear him!"
Buford, making no effort to stifle himself this time turned his muzzle to the sky and howled long and loud. The howling lasted for several more moments, until the moon once again vanished behind the cloud bank. The night once again fell into eerie silence. There was only the sound of the chirruping crickets and peepers.
"I think we're still stuck here, Cindy Mae." said Woody.
Then they heard it. A churning and splashing some distance away near a grove of gaunt cypresses, Spanish moss waving like strands of gossamer.
"What was that, Woody?" asked Cindy Mae. "Ah cant' see-"
"Gators!" Buford exclaimed suddenly, ears flying up in alarm.
"Gators!" said Woody "Buford says its gators! Sorry 'ol buddy, but looks like thet howling of yours has done it again!"
Sure enough, they could all now make out dark, ominous shapes churning through the stagnant bayou water—coming in their direction. There were three of them at least—maybe four!
"Glory!" exclaimed Cindy Mae. "Looks like this could be the end, Woody."
The long sinister shapes glided ever closer. Now they could see the elongated jaws rear out of the water to sniff the air, and white teeth flash in the starlight. The alligators swam nearer, until they were right beneath them. Their savage heads peered up at the enshared humans and canines. But somehow, the attitude of gators seemed to be more one of friendly curiousity then hunger. Then they noticed that these alligators were small, not yet full grown.
"Sis!" exclaimed Woody. "Ah know these gators!"
"You do?" Cindy Mae asked confused.
"Ah sure do, and so does Buford!"
"Huh?" asked Buford.
"Don't ya recognize 'em, 'ol buddy?" asked Woody. "Thems 'ol Gertrude' babies, all growed up."
Cindy Mae gasped in surprise. It was true. Buford looked down without at the four half-grown alligators, all looking up at him with fondness. "Awwww, shucks!" said Buford, peering back at them. "The 'lil fellas remember me."
The twins and Buford remembered the time that Jeb Crowley's pet gator, Gertrude, had gone missing, and they had helped track her down. It turned out she had gone off to lay her eggs, and when the babys had hatched they took to Buford immediantly, and Buford had served as a surregate father to the hatchlings. Or maybe an uncle, since the little gators referred to him as their "Uncle Buford".
And now the hatchlings, nearly grown, had returned to get their uncle Buford out of the poachers trap. The young gators raised their muzzles and began chomping at the ropes of the net, taking care not to harm any of the captives. Their toothy jaws snapped and rended, until the twins, the hounds, and the Tarkins brothers were free. Buford leaped onto the back of one of the young alligators. Duchess, still clinging to the torn net, looked at Buford, fearful and unsure. But Buford nodded to her that everything was fine. At length assured, Duchess followed Buford's lead, and jumped down onto the back of another of the gators. There weren't enough gators for all of them, though, and the humans grasped hold of the other two gators tails, and allowed the reptiles to lead them to the kids' swamp buggy, which was still parked nearby.
When they had climbed in. They all waved farewell to the gators who had rescued them.
Gertrude's heirs smiled appreciatively back at them toothily before swimming away.
"Well I'll be a horny toad." Said Woody "Guess that howling of your saved us after all, Buford!"
"Awww, it weren't nothin'" said Buford.
"Buuuford." sighed Duchess, and planted a big wet one on Buford's right jowl, causing the hound blush from lavander to deep violet, and his eyes to spin crazily in a dilirium of lovesickness.
"Well," said Cindy Mae. "It's time we all got moving. Them boys said they was goin' to bag the panther, and ah wouldn't count on the sheriff this time!"