by Charles Tang
“I’ll join you later,” said Grandfather. “I want to discuss the details with Mr. Osceola and then drive to the ranger station for our camping permit.”
The snack bar wasn’t crowded. The children purchased thick slices of pumpkin bread and cold drinks. They all sat at an empty table.
“You are in for a real experience,” Irene told them. “Not many people go where you are going tomorrow.”
“I’m glad you’ll be with us,” said Violet. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Irene reassured her. “A chickee is very safe. You can bring sleeping bags if you want. I’ll bring along hammocks, too.”
“I want to sleep in a hammock,” Benny declared. He couldn’t wait to start this adventure.
A tour bus stopped out front. Irene had to leave the Aldens to wait on customers.
Henry picked up his trash. “I think we should go. Grandfather is probably waiting for us outside.”
He pushed his chair back. As he did, a man just behind him poured his drink down Henry’s back!
Instead of apologizing, the man muttered, “Why don’t you look where you’re going!” Then he hustled away.
Jessie grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed at Henry’s shirt.
“It’s okay,” Henry said. “One minute in the sun and I’ll be dry.”
Violet stared at the rude man’s bushy hair. “I know that man! He was on top of the observation tower. He made me mess up my picture.”
“I’ve seen him, too,” Benny said. “Today, when I was looking at postcards.”
“And he was at the house at the end of our street,” Jessie added. “The first evening when we took a walk. Remember?”
Henry frowned. “Why would the same man always be in the same places we are?”
“Coincidence, maybe?” Jessie suggested.
“I don’t think so.” But before Henry could say more, Grandfather came in.
“We should leave,” he told them. “We have a lot of supplies to buy for our camp-out.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent buying sleeping bags, more insect repellent, cookware, food, a lantern, mosquito netting, and utensils.
“We have a lot of this stuff at home,” Jessie remarked as they loaded the bulky sacks into the trunk of their car.
“Yes, but our old sleeping bags are getting a little worn out,” Grandfather said.
“Can we keep the old ones in our boxcar?” Benny asked. “For sleepovers?”
“Good idea.” Grandfather rumpled Benny’s hair. “Although after tomorrow night, you might not want to camp out again for a while.”
“Why? What’s going to happen tomorrow?” Jessie asked. “Irene told us the Glades are noisy at night.”
“Mr. Osceola told me the same thing,” Grandfather said. “I just think none of us will get much sleep, that’s all. There’s nothing to be afraid of or we wouldn’t go. According to Irene’s father, the place where he saw the man who looked like Andy is deep in the Glades.”
“And we’ll have to search for him,” Henry added. “So we can’t make this trip all in one day.”
“Exactly.” Grandfather got behind the wheel. “Let’s go back to the hotel and think about where we want to eat dinner.”
But the children were too excited to eat when they reached the pink hotel. This time tomorrow they would be deep in the Everglades. Anything could happen!
They sat out on the porch and signed Benny’s postcard.
To their surprise, an old man came up the walk. It was Gus Hummer.
“Mr. Hummer!” Jessie said, getting up to give him her seat on the glider. “Did you come to see us?”
“I did indeed. Just let me catch my breath.” The old man sat down and took a few shaky breaths. “It’s farther over here than I thought!”
“You should have called us,” said Violet. “You could have left a message with Mrs. Johnson. We would have come over to your house. Can I get you a drink?”
“Water would be fine,” said Gus.
Violet came back moments later with a pitcher of ice water on a tray and several glasses. Gus drank an entire glass, set it on the tray, and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.
“I had to come over here,” he told the Aldens. “I can’t talk freely at my boardinghouse.”
“Why not?” asked Benny.
“Because Old Lady Applegate eavesdrops. That woman is always listening at doors. She hears everything!” Gus remarked.
Henry poured their guest a second glass of cold water. “What do you want to tell us? Does it have to do with Andrew?”
Gus nodded. “Old Lady Applegate was snooping in Andrew’s room. He hasn’t been back in days, you know.”
“Yes, we know,” put in Jessie. “Do you think the landlady took something from Andrew’s room?”
Gus waved a hand. “She takes things from all our rooms. Little things, like pocket change, knickknacks. She once took a picture of my late wife. I think she sold the frame. I wouldn’t have minded so much if she’d left the picture.”
“That’s terrible!” Violet cried. “Did you tell the police?”
“I didn’t have any proof. It would be her word against the word of an old man,” Gus said. “Anyway, she does it to all her boarders, not just me.”
“But you all should do something!” Jessie exclaimed.
Gus shook his head. “The rent is cheap. Where else would I go that I could afford?” He tugged an envelope from his pocket. “That’s not why I came. Andrew gave me this the day before he disappeared. I think it’s important. Maybe you kids can figure it out. I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Henry took the envelope as Gus rose to leave.
“Won’t you stay longer?” Violet asked, concerned about the man. “You could go to dinner with us.”
“Thanks, but no,” said Gus. He walked slowly down the block.
“Poor guy,” said Jessie. “It must be awful to live there.”
Henry was opening the envelope. He held up a piece of paper. On the paper were two sets of numbers.
Benny frowned. “What is that? Math?”
Violet stared at the paper. One column had single numbers in order — one, two, three, four, and so forth. The second column had rows of numbers all jumbled up.
“What does this mean?” she asked, perplexed.
“There’s something about these numbers,” Jessie said slowly. “But I can’t think what.”
“I know!” Henry cried. “The cat collars!” He pointed to the first row of numbers. “These are the numbers assigned to the cats.”
“That makes sense,” said Violet. “Nelda Pearson said the cats were numbered one, two, three, like that. But what is the second set of numbers?”
“The frequency of each cat’s radio collar,” Henry said. “When they want to tune in to a certain cat, the rangers use the numbers across from the cat’s number.”
Jessie tapped the bottom of the page. “Number Twenty-seven is circled in red. Something must be wrong with Cat Number Twenty-seven.”
They all looked at one another.
“Andrew is on the trail of Cat Number Twenty-seven,” said Violet.
“And tomorrow, we’ll be on his trail,” added Jessie.
CHAPTER 9
Big Lostmans Bay
The airboat roared like a low-flying plane, whizzing across the sawgrass.
It was such a strange boat, Violet thought, as the wind whipped her ponytails straight out behind her.
Mr. Osceola sat perched on a high seat, operating the controls just in front of the motor cage.
Before they had left that morning, Mr. Osceola helped the Aldens load their gear and explained what they should expect.
“The airboat is part plane, part boat,” he had told them. “It is designed to skim over the mud and sawgrass. I’ll follow airboat routes cut through the sawgrass and down waterways.”
On the dock, Henry had studied the map. From the Miccosukee Village, Irene’s father planned
to go through the Big Cypress National Preserve, heading southwest to a waterway called Big Lostmans Bay. The chickee where they’d set up camp was not too far from there.
Mr. Osceola had passed cuplike ear protectors out to everyone, then slipped a set over his own ears.
“What funny earmuffs,” Benny had remarked.
“Sometimes I give three or four tours a day,” Mr. Osceola had said. “These protect my hearing, so tap my shoulder if you want to ask me a question. Otherwise, I can’t hear you. It will be loud, so you won’t be able to hear each other very well once the motor starts.”
Violet had sat beside Benny on the hard seat. The boat shot off all at once, frightening a flock of snowy egrets.
Benny laughed now with delight. He loved how fast they were going! Faster than any ride at the carnival!
“I wish I had worn my hair in braids,” Jessie shouted to Irene, who sat next to her.
Irene shook her head. She couldn’t hear. But the Miccosukee girl had wisely braided her thick black hair. Jessie’s single ponytail was being blown all over.
Suddenly Mr. Osceola pointed to the right. Henry, sitting beside Grandfather in the back, saw a huge bull alligator slide into the water out of their way. He and Grandfather exchanged a look. This wasn’t going to be an ordinary adventure.
Henry knew airboats disturbed wildlife. Mr. Osceola assured them he would drive carefully. Anyway, they weren’t tourists on a joyride. They were on a mission to find Cat Number Twenty-seven, and, they hoped, Andrew Beldon.
After a while the roar suddenly quit. Mr. Osceola had switched off the engine. The blades of the propeller slowly whirled to a stop.
“Are we here?” asked Benny.
“No, I just thought you needed a break,” said Mr. Osceola. “The noise and gas fames can get to you. We’re about halfway to Big Lostmans Bay.”
“Big Lostmans Bay,” repeated Violet. “Is that where you saw the man who looked like Andrew?”
Mr. Osceola nodded. “There are a lot of hammocks, creeks, and coves around there. It would be a good place to hide.”
Or get lost in, Violet thought. She looked around. The Everglades surrounded them completely — miles of sharp-bladed sawgrass, dozens of humpy mangrove islands, an enchanted forest of orchids and other blooming flowers.
Someone tapped Violet’s shoulder. It was Jessie.
“You ought to take pictures. We’ll never see this again!”
“You’re right.” Violet held up her camera and began snapping photos.
The heat began to build. Jessie hadn’t noticed how hot — or buggy — it was until they were sitting still. She swatted pesky insects in front of her face.
“Don’t the bugs bother you?” she asked Irene.
“Yes, but I’m used to them,” said Irene. “They are as much a part of the Glades as the herons and alligators.”
“Everybody ready to take off?” Mr. Osceola called, slipping on his ear protectors.
“Yes!” said Jessie. The roar of the engine deafened her, but at least they were leaving the bugs behind.
Henry took out his compass. According to the magnetic needle, they were right on course. He admired Irene’s father, who instinctively knew the maze of canals hacked into the sawgrass.
After a long while, sawgrass gave way to open water. Inlets and tiny hammocks dotted the river. After reaching a large hammock, Mr. Osceola once again turned off the engine.
“This is it,” he announced, stepping down from his high seat. “I’ll help you set up base camp here.”
“Where are we?” Benny asked. He felt a little dazed from the long, windy ride.
“On the map it’s called Rogers River Bay Chickee,” Mr. Osceola replied. “It’s owned and maintained by the Park Service.”
“I thought we were going to Big Lostmans Bay,” said Henry.
“We are. We’re here,” said Irene. “This area of the Wilderness Waterway is part of Big Lostmans Bay.” She helped her father anchor the boat.
“I have some canoes tied nearby,” said Mr. Osceola. “So when I leave you, you’ll still have transportation. You all know how to pole a canoe?”
“Irene gave us an excellent lesson the other day,” Grandfather said. He and Henry began handing the supplies and packs to Irene and Mr. Osceola, who were on land.
Henry grunted from the weight of a red backpack. Benny’s name tag dangled from the zipper. “Benny, what on earth is in your pack? It weighs a ton!”
“Things we might need,” Benny replied secretively.
“Well, it feels like bricks!” Henry said.
When the airboat was unloaded, Mr. Osceola led the way through muck and weeds to the park chickee. Benny saw the wooden structure first.
“That’s where we’re going to sleep tonight!” he exclaimed. “Neat!” He loved the high wooden sides with built-in sleeping platforms.
“It is neat,” Jessie agreed. “It’s like that book we read. The one about the family stranded on the island and how they lived in a big tree house.”
“This is like a boxcar tree house,” Benny said, scrambling up the side.
Mr. Osceola handed up some of their gear. “Remember,” he cautioned, “you are in the backcountry. Always wear mosquito repellent. Keep your arms and legs covered. Don’t forget a hat or your snakebite kits. At night, we’ll drape our sleeping bags or hammocks in mosquito netting.”
“I brought plenty,” Grandfather told Mr. Osceola. “And Jessie packed enough insect spray for ten families.”
“And lunch,” she said, unloading a large pack. “Mrs. Johnson fixed us sandwiches this morning. Nothing that would spoil in the heat.”
Sitting cross-legged on the chickee, everyone ate peanut butter sandwiches, potato chips, and ripe mangoes. Irene contributed pumpkin bread to the meal. A thermos of still-cold iced tea tasted wonderful.
For dinner that night, Jessie and Grandfather had brought prepackaged meals that didn’t require heating. They would drink bottled water.
When they had safely put the food in animal-proof containers, Benny asked, “Are we going to explore now?”
“Yes,” said Irene. “This isn’t where Daddy saw the man who looked like Ranger Beldon. We’ll only sleep here tonight.”
They all clambered back into the airboat and were soon flying over open water. As they approached a small hammock, Mr. Osceola turned off the engine.
“I keep a couple of canoes hidden here,” he said, wading through the water. He pulled back some branches to reveal a pair of canoes. “You can’t go everywhere in an airboat.”
He pulled the canoes forward, so the Aldens could reach them.
Irene, Grandfather, and Benny took one canoe. Henry, Jessie, and Violet claimed the other.
“I will leave you now,” said Mr. Osceola, once again at the controls of his airboat. “I must get back to the village for my tour.”
“When will you come back?” asked Grandfather.
“Probably late today,” said Mr. Osceola. “You’re in good hands. Irene knows as much as I do about the Glades. Good luck. I hope you find Andrew Beldon.”
So do we,thought Jessie, watching Mr. Osceola push his airboat back so he could take off without splashing their canoes.
When the airboat roar died and all they heard were birds calling, Irene said, “Well, let’s go. Daddy saw the man on the next hammock. We have a lot of daylight to look for whoever it was.”
They poled silently through the wilderness. Henry listened to the plop of a turtle sliding into the water, the flip-flop of fish jumping, the buzz of bugs. Even Benny was quiet, enjoying the closeness of nature.
Henry thought about the elusive Florida panther. From the pictures he’d seen of the beautiful cat, Henry understood why the ranger wanted to protect the last remaining animals. But Andrew’s love of the big cats could have brought him big trouble.
Irene poled the lead boat into a tight cove. Getting out, she tugged the front end of the boat up onto a mangrove root. Henry and Jessie sli
pped over the side and waded through shallow water to secure their canoe next to Irene’s.
“Yuck,” said Jessie. “I’m all wet!”
“But at least you’re cool,” Violet said. “Look on the bright side!” She had never seen such wild beauty. She quickly finished a roll of film and reloaded her camera.
But as they walked farther, the scenery became dark and eerie. The foliage was so thick, sunlight was blocked out. Violet couldn’t take any more pictures.
“It’s creepy in here,” Benny whispered.
Jessie couldn’t agree more. Instead of drying out in the heat, her jeans stayed wet because it was so humid. Lagging behind the others, she tried to find a ray of stray sunlight to walk in.
Then she heard it. A slithering sound.
She hurried to the front of the line, where Grandfather and Irene were walking.
“I heard something!” she whispered.
“What?” asked Grandfather.
“I don’t know,” Jessie said. It didn’t sound like a snake. But then things sounded different in the Glades.
Irene made a small motion with her hands. “It was probably a turtle.”
“It’s not a turtle,” Jessie insisted. She listened carefully. “I can still hear it!”
Everyone stopped. The soft slithering noise stopped, too, at least a beat behind them.
Forgetting her fear of snakes, Jessie ran back to the clearing.
“Here’s a footprint!” she cried. “It’s not an animal print! It belongs to a person!”
“It could be one of ours,” Irene said. “We’re all wearing shoes.”
Benny knelt close to the track. “Not like this one.” From his red pack, which he had brought along, he lifted out an object. It was the plaster cast of the footprint.
“I told you this would come in handy.” He set the cast next to the muddy print.
The prints were identical.
Everyone could see the distinctive V mark on the sole.
Just then Violet whirled. She saw a man half hidden behind a mangrove root. “There he is!” she cried.
With Henry in the lead this time, the children ran after the man. They quickly grabbed him. The man did not fight back.
“Good job,” said Grandfather when he caught up to them.
