CHAPTER PAGE
1 TROUBLE AFLOAT _1_
2 FRONT PAGE NEWS _11_
3 STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER _21_
4 AN UNWARRANTED ATTACK _28_
5 HELD ON SUSPICION _36_
6 OLD NOAH _44_
7 ARK OF THE MUD FLATS _54_
8 THE GREEN PARROT _62_
9 A JOB FOR MR. OAKS _70_
10 SALVAGE AND SABOTEURS _78_
11 PURSUIT BY TAXI _86_
12 JERRY'S DISAPPEARANCE _94_
13 A VACANT BUILDING _101_
14 TEST BLACKOUT _110_
15 A DRIFTING BARGE _120_
16 DANGER ON THE RIVER _127_
17 A STOLEN BOAT _134_
18 PENNY'S PLAN _145_
19 STANDING GUARD _153_
20 A SHACK IN THE WOODS _163_
21 THROUGH THE SKYLIGHT _170_
22 A SEARCHING PARTY _177_
23 HELP FROM NOAH _184_
24 A MESSAGE IN THE BOTTLE _193_
25 A BOW IN THE CLOUD _201_
CHAPTER
1
_TROUBLE AFLOAT_
A girl in blue slacks, woolen sweater and tennis shoes strode jauntily
along the creaking boards of the dark river dock. A large white cotton
bag slung carelessly over one shoulder added to the grace of the lithe
young figure.
"Hi, Penny!" called a young man who tinkered with the engine of a
motorboat. "Out to bury the body?"
Penny Parker chuckled and shifted the bag to the opposite shoulder. "Just
thought it would be a good night for a sail, Bill. Have you seen Louise
Sidell sneaking around anywhere?"
Before the young sailor could answer, a voice shouted from the darkness,
"Here I am!"
Turning her head, Penny glimpsed her chum, a chubby silhouette in the
moonlight. Louise, warmly dressed, already was comfortably established in
one of the small sailing boats tied up at the wharf.
"Time you're arriving," she said accusingly as Penny tossed the sail bag
into her hands. "You promised to meet me here at eight o'clock. It's at
least eight-thirty now."
"Sorry, old dear." Penny leaped nimbly aboard and with practiced fingers
began to put up the mainsail. "After I 'phoned you, I got hung up at
home. Dishes and all that sort of thing. Then Dad delayed me ten minutes
while he lectured on the undesirability of daughter taking a moonlight
sail."
"I gather you gained the better of the argument," Louise grinned. "Mother
made me agree to wear a life-preserver. Imagine! And there's barely
enough wind stirring to whiff us across the river."
For many years Penny and Louise had been chums. Students at Riverview
High School, they enjoyed the same sports, particularly swimming and
sailing. The little mahogany dinghy, appropriately named "Pop's Worry,"
was owned by Penny's father, Anthony Parker, editor of Riverview's most
enterprising newspaper, the _Star_.
Together with Mrs. Maud Weems, a housekeeper who had cared for Penny
since her mother's death, he never felt entirely easy when the girls were
on the river at night. Nevertheless, Penny was an excellent sailor and
rather gloried in the record that her boat had overturned only once
during the past season.
"All set?" she asked Louise, casting off the ropes one by one.
As Penny shoved the boat away from the dock, the flapping sail stiffened
to the breeze. Louise ducked her head to avoid the swinging boom.
Bill Evans, watching from shore, called a friendly warning: "If you're
planning to sail down river, better not get too close to Thompson's
bridge! The new regulations say seventy-five feet."
"We'll give it a wide berth," responded Penny. She sailed the boat out
through the slip into the main channel of the Big Bear river. When well
beyond the dock she commented sadly: "Poor old Bill. Always giving
advice. Guess he can't help it."
"His boat's just a leaky tub," replied Louise. "I hear it sunk twice
while tied up to the dock. One has to feel sorry for him and treat him
with kindness."
Penny steered "Pop's Worry" in a diagonal course down stream. On either
side of the shore, from houses, factories, and a nearby amusement park,
lights twinkled and were reflected on the unruffled surface of the water.
The breeze was soft and warm; the stars seemed very close. Overhead a
disc of orange moon rode lazily, now and then dodging behind a fleecy
cloud.
"It's a perfect night to sail," Louise said, snuggling amid the cushions.
"Wish we'd brought the phonograph along."
"Uh-huh," Penny agreed, her gaze on an approaching motorboat.
The oncoming craft showed no lights. Uncertain that the pilot would see
Pop's Worry, she focused the beam of her flashlight high on the mainsail.
The motorboat altered its course instantly and completely. Instead of
turning only enough to avoid the sailing craft, it circled in a sharp arc
and sped toward the opposite shore. There it was lost to view amid a dark
fringe of trees.
"It's against the regulations to cruise without lights," Penny commented.
"Wonder who piloted that boat?"
"Whoever he was, you seemed to frighten him away."
"He did turn tail when he saw my light," Penny agreed, scanning the
distant shore. "I imagine the boat came from Ottman's. At least it looked
like one of theirs."
Ottman's--a nautical supply shop and boat rental dock--was well known,
not only to the girls, but to all sailors who plied nearby waters. Owned
and operated by a brother and sister, Sara and Burt Ottman, the
establishment provided canoes, sea skiffs and rowboats to all who were
able to pay the hourly rate. Because many of the would-be boatmen were
more venturesome than experienced, seasoned sailors were inclined to eye
such pilots with distrust.
"Careful, Penny!" Louise called as she saw the mainsail begin to flap in
the wind. "You're luffing!"
Reminded of her duties as steersman, Penny headed the little boat on its
course once more. As the sail again became taut, she noticed a small
object floating in the water directly ahead. At first she could not be
certain what it was, and then she decided that it must be a corked
bottle.
Deliberately Penny steered close to the object. Remarking that a bottle
would create a hazard for the propellers of a motorboat, she reached to
snatch it from the water. The current, however, swung it just beyond her
reach.
"Bother!" she exclaimed in annoyance. "I want that bottle!"
"Oh, what do you care?" Louise demanded with a shrug. "Someone else will
fish it out."
"It could do a great deal of damage. Besides, as it floated past, I
thought I saw a piece of paper inside."
"If you aren't the same old Penny!" teased Louise. "Always looking for a
mystery. I suppose you think yonder bottle bears a note telling where
pirates buried their treasure?"
"Probably just a paper requesting: 'Please write to your lonely pen pal.'
All the same, I must find out." Keeping her eye on the floating bottle,
Penny skillfully brought the boat about.
"Take the tiller a minute, please," she requested her chum.
Not without misgivings, Louise reached for the long steering stick.
Although she occasionally handled "Pop's Worry," she never felt confident
of her ability as a sailor. An unexpected puff of wind or a sudden tilt
of the boat could send her into a state of panic.
"Grab that old bottle and don't take twenty years," she urged nervously.
Penny leaned far out over the boat in an attempt to reach the bottle. Her
weight tilted the light craft low into the water. Louise hastily shifted
to the opposite side as a counter-balance, and in so doing, released the
mainsheet. The boom promptly swung out.
Penny made a wild lunge for the running sheet, but could not prevent
disaster. The end of the boom dipped into the water. As the sail became
wet and heavy it slowly pulled the boat after it.
"We're going over!" Louise shrieked, scrambling for the high side.
"We are over," corrected Penny sadly.
Both girls had been tossed into the water. Louise, protected by a life
preserver, immediately grasped the overturned boat and even saved her
hair from getting wet. Penny, however, swam after the bobbing bottle. A
moment later she came back, triumphantly hugging it against her chest.
"It's a blue pop bottle, Louise," she announced, grasping her chum's
extended hand. "And there _is_ a piece of paper inside!"
"You and that stupid old bottle!" Louise retorted. "I guess it was my
fault we upset, but you never should have turned the tiller over to me."
"Oh, who minds a little upset?"
"I do," Louise said crossly. "The water's cold, and we're at least a
quarter of a mile from shore. No boats close by, either."
"Oh, we can get out of this by ourselves," Penny returned, undismayed.
"Hold my bottle while I try to haul in the sail."
"I'd like to uncork your precious bottle and drop it to the bottom of the
river!"
Nevertheless, while her chum worked with the halyard, Louise held tightly
to the little object which had caused all the trouble. Neither in shape
nor size was the bottle unusual, but the paper it contained did arouse
her curiosity. Though she never would have admitted it, she too wondered
if it might bear an interesting message.
After pulling in the heavy, water-soaked sail, the girls climbed to the
high side of the boat, trying by their combined weight to right it. Time
and again they failed. At last, breathless, cold, discouraged, they
admitted that the task was beyond their strength.
"Let's shout for help," Louise proposed, anxiously watching the distant
shore lights.
"All right," agreed Penny, "but I doubt anyone will hear us. My, we're
drifting down river fast!"
Decidedly worried, the girls shouted many times. There were no boats
near, not even the motor craft they had observed a few minutes earlier.
The swift current seemed to be swinging them directly toward Thompson's
bridge.
"A watchman always is on guard there night and day," Penny commented,
scanning the arching structure of steel. "If the old fellow isn't asleep
he should see us as we drift by."
Louise was too cold and miserable to answer. However, she rather
unwillingly held the blue bottle while Penny swam and tried to guide the
overturned boat toward shore.
When the girls were fairly close to the bridge, they began to shout once
more. Although they could see automobiles moving to and fro across the
great archway, no one became aware of their plight.
Then as they despaired, there came an answering shout from above. A
powerful beam of light played over the water, cutting a bright path.
"Help! Help!" screamed Louise, waving an arm.
"Halt or I'll fire!" rang out the terse command from the bridge.
"Halt?" cried Penny, too exasperated to consider the significance of the
order. "That's what we'd like to do, but we can't!"
The searchlight came to rest on the overturned sailboat. The girls were
so blinded that for a moment they could see nothing. Then the searchlight
shifted slightly to the left, and they were able to distinguish a short,
stoop-shouldered man who peered over the railing of the bridge.
Apparently satisfied that their plight was genuine, he called
reassuringly:
"Okay, take it easy. I'll heave you a line."
The watchman disappeared into the little bridge house. Soon he
reappeared, and with excellent aim, tossed a weighted rope so that it
fell squarely across the overturned boat. Penny seized an end and made it
fast.
"I'll try to pull you in," the watchman shouted. "Just hang on."
Leaving his post on the bridge, the old fellow climbed down a steep
incline to the muddy shore. By means of the long rope, he slowly and
laboriously pulled the water-logged boat with the clinging girls toward a
quiet cove.
Once within wading depth, the chums aided the watchman by leading the
craft in. Together the three of them beached "Pop's Worry" on a narrow
strip of sand.
"Thanks," Penny gasped, flipping a wet curl from off her freckled nose.
"On second thought, many, many thanks."
"You've no business to get so close to the bridge," the watchman
retorted. "It's agin' the regulations. I could have you arrested."
"But it wasn't our fault this old sailboat upset," Penny returned
reasonably. "We were reaching for a floating bottle--oh, my Aunt! Where
is that bottle, Louise? Don't tell me we've lost it!"
Her chum was given no opportunity to reply, for at that moment a
motorboat roared down the river at high speed. Its throttle was wide
open, and it appeared to be racing straight toward the bridge.
"Halt!" shouted the watchman, jerking a weapon from a leather holster.
"Halt!"
The pilot did not obey the command. Instead, to the amazement of the
watchers, he leaped from the cockpit and swam for the opposite shore.
Twice the watchman fired at him, but the bullets were well above the
swimmer's head.
The unpiloted boat, its helm securely lashed, drove straight on its
course.
"It's going to strike the bridge!" shouted Louise.
As the boat raced head on into one of the massive concrete piers, there
came a deafening explosion. The entire steel structure of the bridge
seemed to recoil from the impact. Girders shivered and shook, cables
rattled. On the eastern approach, brakes screamed as automobiles were
brought to a sudden halt.
"Saboteurs!" the watchman cried hoarsely. "They've done it--dynamited the
bridge!"
CHAPTER
2
_FRONT PAGE NEWS_
Although one of the main concrete piers had been damaged by the
explosion, the approaches to the bridge remained intact. Several
automobiles drew up at the curbing, but others, their drivers unaware of
what had caused the blast, sped on across.
From their position beneath the bridge, Louise, Penny, and the watchman
could see the entire steel structure quiver. The underpinning had been
weakened, but whether or not it was safe for traffic to proceed, only an
engineer could determine.
"Oughtn't we stop the cars?" Penny demanded, for the watchman seemed
stunned by what had happened. His eyes were fixed on the opposite shore,
at a point amid the trees where the pilot of the motorboat had crawled
from the water.
"Yes, yes," he muttered, bringing his attention once more to the bridge.
"No chance to catch that saboteur now. We must stop the autos."
Shouting as he ran, the watchman scrambled up the steep slope to the
western approach of the bridge. Realizing that he would be unable to cope
with traffic moving from two directions, the girls hesitated, and then
decided to help him. Their wet shoes provided poor traction on the hill.
Slipping, sliding, clothing plastered to their bodies, they reached the
bridge level.
"You hold the cars at this end!" ordered the watchman as he glimpsed
them. "I'll lower the gate at the other side!"
Stationing themselves at the entrance to the bridge, Louise and Penny
forced motorists to halt at the curb. Within a minute or two, a long line
had formed.
"What's wrong?" demanded one irate driver. "An accident?"
"Bridge damaged," Penny replied tersely.
All along the line horns began to toot. A few of the more curious
motorists alighted and came to bombard the girls with questions. In the
midst of the excitement, one of the cars broke out of line and crept to
the very end of the pavement.
"Listen, Mister," Penny began indignantly to the driver. "You'll have to
back up. You can't cross--" she broke off as she recognized the man at
the wheel. "Dad! Well, for Pete's sake!"
"Penny!" the newspaper man exclaimed, no less dumbfounded. "What are you
and Louise doing here? And in those wet clothes?"
"Policing the bridge. Dad, there's a big story for you here! A saboteur
just blew up one of the piers by ramming it with a motorboat!"
"I thought I heard an explosion as I was driving down Clark Street!"
exclaimed Mr. Parker. Opening the car door, he leaped out and wrapped his
overcoat about Penny's shivering shoulders. "Now tell me exactly what
happened."
As calmly as they could, the girls reported how the saboteur had
dynamited the bridge.
"This is a front page story!" the newspaper owner cried jubilantly.
"Penny, you and Louise take my car and scoot for home. When you get there
call the _Star_ office. Have Editor DeWitt send a reporter to help
me--Jerry Livingston, if he's around. We'll need a crack photographer
too--Salt Sommers."
"I can get the call through much quicker by running to the drugstore."
Penny jerked her head toward a cluster of buildings not far from the
bridge entrance. "As for going home at a moment like this, never!"
"So you want a case of pneumonia?" Mr. Parker barked. "How'd you get wet
anyhow?"
"Sailboat," Penny answered briefly. She took the car keys from her
father, and pressed them upon Louise.
"But I don't want to go if you don't," her chum argued.
"You're more susceptible to pneumonia than I am," Penny said, giving her
a little push. "Dash on home, and get into warm, dry clothing. And don't
forget to take off that life preserver before you hop into bed!"
Thus urged, Louise reluctantly backed Mr. Parker's car to the main
street, and drove away.
"Now I'll slosh over to the drugstore and call the _Star_ office," Penny
offered briskly. "Lend me a nickel, Dad."
"I'm crazy as an eel to let you stay," Mr. Parker muttered, fumbling in
his pocket for a coin. "You should have gone with Louise."
"Let's argue about that tomorrow, Dad. Right now we must work fast unless
we want other newspapers to scoop us on this story."
While her father remained behind to direct bridge traffic, Penny ran to
the nearest drugstore. Darting into the one telephone booth ahead of an
astonished woman customer, she called Editor DeWitt of the _Star_.
Tersely she relayed her father's orders.
"Jerry and Salt will be out there in five minutes," DeWitt promised. "Now
what can you give us on the explosion? Did you witness it?"
"Did I?" echoed Penny. "Why, I practically caused it!"
With no further encouragement, she launched into a vivid, eye-witness
account of the bridge dynamiting. As she talked, a re-write man on
another telephone, took down everything she reported.
"Now about the saboteur's motorboat," he said as she finished. "Can you
give us a description of it?"
"Not a very good one," Penny admitted. "It looked like one of Ottman's
rented boats with an outboard attached. In fact, Louise and I saw a
similar craft earlier in the evening which was cruising not far from the
bridge."
"Then you think the saboteur may have rented his boat from Ottman's?"
"Well, it's a possibility."
"You've given us some good stuff!" the rewrite man praised. "DeWitt's
getting out an extra. Shoot us any new facts as soon as you can."
"Dad's on the job full blast," Penny answered. "He'll soon have all the
details for you."
Slamming out of the telephone booth, she ran back to the bridge. Her
father no longer directed traffic, but had turned the task over to a
pompous motorist who thoroughly enjoyed his authority.
"You can't cross, young lady," he said as she sought to pass him.
"Bridge's unsafe."
"I'm a reporter for the _Star_," Penny replied confidently.
The man stared at her bedraggled clothing. "A reporter?" he inquired
dubiously.
Just then a police car, its siren shrilling, sped up to the bridge. Close
behind came another car which bore a printed card "_Star_" on its
windshield. It braked to a standstill nearby and out leaped two young
men, Jerry Livingston and Salt Sommers.
"Hello, Penny!" Jerry greeted her. "Might have known you'd be here.
Where's the Chief?"
"Somewhere, sleuthing around," Penny answered. "I lost him a minute ago
when I telephoned the _Star_ office."
Salt Sommers, a felt hat cocked low over his eyes, began unloading
photographic equipment from the coupe.
"Where'll I get the best shots?" he asked Penny. "Other side or this?"
"Under the bridge," she directed crisply. "None of the damage shows from
above."
Salt slung the heavy camera over his shoulder, and disappeared down the
incline which led to the river bed.
Before Jerry and Penny could move away, Mr. Parker hurried up with the
watchman in tow.
"This is Carl Oaks, bridge guard," he announced without preliminary.
"Take him over to the drugstore, Jerry, and put him on the wire. We want
his complete story for the _Star_."
"Not so fast," drawled a voice from behind. "We want to talk to Carl
Oaks."
One of the policemen, a detective, moved over to the group and began to
question the watchman.
"It wasn't my fault the bridge was dynamited," the old fellow whined. "I
shouted at the boatman and fired twice."
"He got away?"
"Yeah. Jumped overboard before the boat struck the pier. Last I saw of
him, he was climbing out of the river on the other shore."
"At what point?"
"Right over there." The watchman indicated a clump of maples beyond the
far side of the bridge. "I could see him plainly from the beach."
"And what were _you_ doing on the beach?" questioned the detective
sharply.
"Ask her," Carl Oaks muttered, eyeing Penny.
"Mr. Oaks helped my friend and me when our sailboat upset," she supported
his story. "It really wasn't his fault that he was away from his post at
the time of the explosion."
Both Penny and the watchman were questioned at considerable length by the
detective. Meanwhile, other officers were searching for the escaped
saboteur. Several members of the squad went beneath the bridge to inspect
the damage and collect shattered sections of the wrecked boat.
Dismissed at last by the detective, Penny, her father and Jerry crossed
the bridge to join in the search. Carl Oaks, whose answers did not
entirely satisfy police, was detained for further questioning.
"Penny, tell me more about this fellow Oaks," Mr. Parker urged his
daughter. "I suppose he did his best to stop the saboteur?"
"It seemed so to me," Penny replied slowly. "He was a miserable marksman,
though. I guess he must have been excited when he fired."
Following a trail of moving lights, the trio soon came to a group of
policemen who were examining footprints in the mud of the river bank.
"This is where the saboteur got away," Penny whispered to her father. "Do
you suppose the fellow is still hiding in the woods?"
"Not likely," Mr. Parker answered. "A job of this sort would be planned
in every detail."
The newspaper owner's words were borne out a few minutes later when a
policeman came upon a clump of bushes where an automobile had stood.
Grass was crushed, a small patch of oil was visible, and the soft earth
showed tire imprints.
Penny, her father and Jerry, did not remain long in the vicinity.
Satisfied that the saboteur had made his get-away by car, they were eager
to report their findings to the _Star_ office.
Mr. Parker telephoned DeWitt and then joined the others at the press car.
As Salt Sommers climbed aboard with his camera, an automobile bearing a
_News_ windshield sticker, skidded to a stop nearby.
"Too bad, boys," Salt taunted the rival photographers. "Better late than
never!"
Already news vendors were crying the _Star's_ first extra. Once well away
from the bridge, Mr. Parker stopped the car to buy a paper.
"Nice going," he declared in satisfaction as he scanned the big black
headlines. "We beat every other Riverview paper by a good margin. A
colorful story, too."
"Thanks to whom?" demanded Penny, giving him a pinch.
"I suppose I should say, to you," he admitted with a grin. "However, I
see you've already received ample credit. DeWitt gave you a by-line."
"Did he really?" Penny took the paper from her father's hand and gazed
affectionately at her own name in print. "Nice of him. Especially when I
didn't even suggest the idea."
To a newspaper reporter, a story tagged with his own name means high
honor. Many times Penny, ever alert for news, had enjoyed the
satisfaction of seeing her stories appear with a by-line. Early in her
career as a self-made newspaper girl, her contributions had been regarded
as something of an annoyance to her father and the staff of the _Star_.
But of late she had turned in many of the paper's best scoops and
incidentally, had solved a few mysteries.
"This is the way I like a story written," Mr. Parker declared, reading
aloud from the account which bore his daughter's name. "No flowery
phrases. Just a straight version of how your sailboat upset and what you
saw as it floated down toward the bridge."
"It's a pretty drab account if you ask me," sniffed Penny. "I could have
written it up much better myself. Why, the re-write man didn't even tell
how Louise and I happened to upset!"
"A detail of no importance," Mr. Parker returned. "I mean, in connection
with the story," he corrected hastily as Penny flashed him an injured
look. "What did cause you to capsize?"
"A blue bottle, Dad. It had a piece of paper inside. I was reaching for
it and--oh, my aunt!"
"Now what?" demanded her father.
"Turn the car around and drive back to the bridge!"
"Drive back? Why?"
"I've lost that blue bottle," Penny fairly wailed. "Louise had it, but I
know she didn't take it home with her. It must be lying somewhere on the
beach near our stranded sailboat. Oh, please Dad, turn back!"
CHAPTER
3
_STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER_
Mr. Parker did not slacken the speed of the car. Relaxing somewhat, he
edged farther away from Penny, whose sodden garments were oozing water.
"A bottle!" he exclaimed. "Penny, for a minute you had me worried. I
thought you meant something important."
"But Dad, the bottle is important," she argued earnestly. "You see, it
contains a folded piece of paper, and I'm sure it must be a message."
"Of all the idiotic things! At a time like this when you should be
worried about your health, you plague me about a silly bottle. We're
going straight home."
"Oh, all right," Penny accepted the decision with a shrug. "Nevertheless,
I'm curious about that bottle, and I mean to find it tomorrow!"
Mr. Parker dropped Jerry and Salt off at the newspaper plant and then
drove on to his home. The house, a modern two-story dwelling, was
situated on a terrace overlooking the river. Lights glowed from the
living room windows and Mrs. Weems, the stout housekeeper, could be seen
hovering over the radio.
"I was just listening to the news about the dynamiting," she remarked as
Mr. Parker and his daughter came in from the kitchen. Turning her head,
she stared at the girl's bedraggled hair and wet clothing. "Why, Penny
Parker!"
"I guess I _am_ a little bit moist," Penny admitted with a grin. Sitting
down on the davenport, she began to strip off her shoes and stockings.
"Not here!" Mrs. Weems protested. "Take a hot shower while I fix you a
warm drink. Oh, I knew you shouldn't have gone sailing at night."
"But Mrs. Weems--"
"Scoot right up to the bathroom and get out of those wet clothes!" the
housekeeper interrupted. "You'll be lucky if you don't come down with
your death o' cold."
Carrying a shoe in either hand, Penny wearily climbed the stairs. By the
time she had finished under the shower, Mrs. Weems appeared with a glass
of hot lemonade.
"Drink this," she commanded sternly. "Then get into bed and I'll fix you
up with the hot water bag."
"But I'm not sick," Penny grumbled.
"You will be tomorrow," the housekeeper predicted. "Your father told me
how he allowed you to stay at the bridge while police searched for the
saboteur. I declare, I don't know what he was thinking of!"
"Dad and I are a couple of tough old news hawks," Penny chuckled. "Well,
I suppose I'll have to compromise with you."
"Compromise?" Mrs. Weems asked suspiciously.
"I'll drink the lemonade if you'll let me skip the hot water bottle."
"Indeed not," Mrs. Weems returned firmly. "Now jump into bed, and no more
arguments."
Although Penny considered the housekeeper entirely too thorough in her
methods, she enjoyed the pleasant warmth of the bed. She drank the
lemonade, submitted to the hot water bottle, and then snuggling down,
slept soundly. When she awakened, sunlight streamed in through the
Venetian blinds. Cocking an eye at the dresser clock, she saw to her
dismay that it was ten o'clock.
"My Aunt!" she exclaimed, leaping out of bed. "All this good time
wasted!"
With the speed of a trained fireman, Penny wriggled into her clothes. She
gave her auburn hair a quick brush but took time to slap a little polish
on her saddle shoes before bounding down the stairs to the kitchen.
"Is that you or a gazelle escaped from the zoo?" inquired Mrs. Weems who
was washing dishes at the sink.
"Why didn't you bounce me out of bed two hours ago?" asked Penny. "I have
an important business engagement for this morning."
"You're not going to the river again, I hope!"
"Oh, but I must, Mrs. Weems." Penny opened the refrigerator and helped
herself to a bowl of strawberries and a Martha Washington pie.
"You're not breakfasting on that," said the housekeeper, taking the
dishes away from her. "Oatmeal is what you need. Now why must you go to
the river?"
"Someone has to salvage the sailboat. Besides, I lost a valuable object
last night--"
The telephone jingled, and Penny darted off to answer it. As she had
anticipated, the call was from Louise Sidell, who in a very husky voice
asked her how she was feeling.
"Fit as a fiddle and ready to go bottle hunting!" Penny replied promptly.
"And you?"
"I hurt in all the wrong places," Louise complained. "What a night!"
"Why, I enjoyed every minute of it," Penny said with sincerity. "If
you're such a wreck I suppose you won't care to go with me to the river
this morning. By the way, what did you do with that blue bottle?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. I'm sure I had it in my hand when we
reached shore, but that's the last I remember."
"Well, never mind, if it's anywhere on the beach I'll find it," Penny
said. "Sure you don't want to tag along?"
"Maybe I will."
"Then meet me in twenty minutes at Ottman's dock. Signing off now to
gobble a bowl of oatmeal."
Without giving Louise a chance to change her mind, Penny hung up the
receiver and returned to the kitchen. After fortifying herself with
oatmeal, a glass of orange juice, bacon, two rolls and sundry odds and
ends, she started off to meet Louise. Her chum, looking none too
cheerful, awaited her near Ottman's dock.
"Why did you ask me to meet you at this particular place, Penny?" she
inquired. "It was a block out of my way."
"I thought we might rent one of Ottman's boats and row down to the
bridge. It will be easier than walking along the mud flats."
"You think of everything," Louise said admiringly. "But where's the
proprietor of this place?"
Boats of all description were fastened along the dock, but neither Burt
Ottman nor his sister were visible. Not far from a long shed which served
as ticket office and canoe-storage house, an empty double-deck motor
launch had been tied to a pier. An aged black and white dog drowsed on
its sunny deck.
"Guess the place is deserted," Penny commented. After wandering about,
she sat down on an overturned row boat which had been pulled out near the
water's edge.
The boat moved beneath her, and an irate voice rumbled: "Would you mind
getting off?"
Decidedly startled, Penny sprang to her feet.
As the boat was pushed over on its side, a girl in grimy slacks, rolled
from beneath it. Barely twenty years of age, her skin was rough and brown
from constant exposure to wind and sun. A smear of varnish decorated one
cheek and she held a can of caulking material in her hand.
"I'm sorry," said Penny, smiling. "Do you live under that boat?"
Sara Ottman's dark eyes flashed. Getting to her feet, she regarded the
girl with undisguised hostility.
"Very clever, aren't you!" she said scathingly. "In fact, quite the
little joker!"
"Why, I didn't mean anything," Penny apologized. "I had no idea you were
working under that thing."
"So clever, and such a marvelous detective," Sara went on, paying no
heed. "Why, it was Penny Parker who not so long ago astonished Riverview
by solving the Mystery of the Witch Doll! And who but Penny aided the
police in trailing The Vanishing Houseboat? It was our own Penny who
learned why the tower Clock Struck Thirteen. And now we are favored with
her most valuable opinion in connection with the bridge dynamiting case!"
Penny and Louise were dumbfounded by the sudden, unwarranted attack. By
no stretch of the imagination could they think that Sara Ottman meant her
words as a joke. But what had her so aroused? While it was true that
Penny had solved many local mysteries, she never had been boastful of her
accomplishments. In fact, she was one of the most popular girls in
Riverview.
"Are you sure you haven't a fever, Miss Ottman?" Penny demanded, her own
eyes blazing. "I certainly fail to understand such an outburst."
"Of course you do," the other mocked. "You're not used to talk coming
straight from the shoulder. Why are you here anyhow?"
"To rent a boat."
"Well, you can't have one," Sara Ottman said shortly. "And if you never
come around here again, it will be soon enough."
Glaring once more at Penny, she turned and strode into the boathouse.
CHAPTER
4
_AN UNWARRANTED ATTACK_
"Now will you tell me what I did to deserve a crack like that?" Penny
muttered as the door of the boathouse slammed behind Sara Ottman.
"Not a single thing," Louise answered loyally. "She just rolled out from
beneath that boat with a dagger between her teeth!"
"I guess I am a little prig, Lou."
"You're no such thing!" Louise grasped her arm and gave her an
affectionate squeeze. "Come along and forget it. I never did like Sara
Ottman anyhow."
Penny allowed herself to be led away from the dock, but the older girl's
unkind remarks kept pricking her mind. Although occasionally in the past
she had stopped for a few minutes at the Ottman place, she never before
had spoken a dozen words to Sara. Nearly all of her business dealings had
been with Burt Ottman, a pleasant young man who had painted her father's
sailboat that spring.
"I simply can't understand it," Penny mumbled, trudging along the shore
with Louise. "The last time I saw Sara she spoke to me politely enough. I
must have offended her, but how?"
"Oh, why waste any thought on her?" Louise scoffed.
"Because it bothers me. She mentioned the bridge dynamiting affair. Maybe
it was my by-line story in the _Star_ that offended her."
"What did it say?" Louise inquired curiously. "I didn't see the morning
paper."
"Neither did I. I gave my story to a rewrite man over the telephone. I
meant to read the entire account, but was in a hurry to get over here, so
I skipped it."
"Well, I shouldn't worry about the matter if I were you."
"I'm sure the boat used in the dynamiting came from Ottman's," Penny
declared, thinking aloud. "Perhaps Sara is just out of sorts because she
and her brother lost their property."
Making their way along the mud flats, the girls came at last to the tiny
stretch of sand where the sailboat had been beached the previous night.
It lay exactly as they had left it, cockpit half filled with water, the
tall mast nosed into the loose sand.
"What a mess," sighed Penny. "Well, the first thing to do is to get the
wet sail off. We should have taken care of it last night."
Before beginning the task, the girls wandered toward the nearby bridge to
inspect the damage caused by dynamiting. An armed soldier refused to
allow them to approach closer than twenty yards. All traffic had been
halted, and a group of engineers could be seen examining the shattered
pier.
"Is Mr. Oaks around here?" Penny asked the soldier.
"Oaks? Oh, you mean the bridge watchman. He's been charged with neglect
of duty, and relieved of his job."
Penny and Louise were sorry to hear the news, feeling that in a way they
were responsible for the old fellow having left his post. Unable to learn
whether or not the watchman was being detained by police, they returned
to the beach to salvage their sailboat.
Without a pump, it was a difficult task to remove the water from the
cockpit of "Pop's Worry." By rocking the boat back and forth and scooping
with an old tin can, the girls finally got most of it out.
"We'll have to dry the sail somehow or it will mildew," Penny decided.
"The best thing, I think, is to put it on again and sail home."
Together they righted the boat. As the tall mast flipped out of the sand,
Penny caught glimpse of a shiny, blue object.
"Our bottle!" she cried triumphantly, making a dive for it.
"Your bottle," corrected Louise. "I'm not a bit interested in that silly
old thing."
Nevertheless, as Penny sat down on the deck of "Pop's Worry" and removed
the cork, she edged nearer. By means of a hairpin, the folded sheet of
paper contained within was pulled from the narrow neck. Highly elated,
Penny spread out the message to read.
"Well, what does it say?" Louise inquired impatiently.
"Oh, so you are interested," teased Penny.
"Now don't try to be funny! Read the message."
Penny stared at the paper in her hand. "It's rather queer," she
acknowledged. "Listen:
"'_The day of the Great Deluge approaches. If you would be saved from
destruction, seek without delay, the shelter of my ark._'"
"If that isn't nonsense!" Louise exclaimed, peering over her chum's
shoulder. "And the note is signed, '_Noah_.'"
"Someone's idea of a joke, I suppose," Penny replied. She tossed the
paper away, then reconsidering, retrieved the message and with the
bottle, placed it in the cockpit of the boat. "Well, it's rained a lot
this Spring, but I don't think we'll have to worry about the Great
Deluge."
"Noah was a Biblical character," Louise commented thoughtfully. "I
remember that when God told him it would rain forty days and forty
nights, he built an ark to resist the flood waters. And he took his
family in with him and all the animals, two by two."
"Noah was a bit before our time," laughed Penny. "Suppose we shove off
for home."
By dint of much physical exertion, the girls pushed "Pop's Worry" out
into the shallow water. Penny, who had removed shoes and stockings, gave
a final thrust and leaped lightly aboard. Raising the wet sail, she
allowed it to flap loosely in the wind.
"We'll have everything snug and dry by the time we reach home," she
declared confidently. "Tired, Lou?"
"A little," admitted her chum, stretching out full length on the deck. "I
like to sail but I don't like to bail! And just think, if you hadn't been
so crazy to get that blue bottle, we'd have spared ourselves a lot of
hard work."
"Well, a fellow never knows. The bottle might have provided the first
clue in an absorbing mystery! Who do you suppose wrote such an odd
message?"
"How should I know?" yawned Louise. "Probably some prankster."
Taking a zigzag course, "Pop's Worry" tacked slowly upstream. Whipped by
a brisk wind, the wet sail gradually dried and regained its former shape.
As the boat presently approached Ottman's dock, both girls turned to gaze
in that direction. Sara could be seen moving about on one of the floating
platforms, retying several boats which banged at their moorings.
"Better tack," Louise advised in a low tone. "We don't want to get too
close."
Penny acted as if she had not heard. She made no move to bring the boat
about.
"We'll end up right at Ottman's unless you're careful," Louise warned.
"Or is that what you want to do?"
"I'm thinking about it." Penny watched Sara with thoughtful eyes.
"Well, if you'll deliberately go there again, I must say you enjoy being
insulted!"
"I'd like to find out why Sara is angry at me. If it's only a
misunderstanding I want to clear it up."
Louise shook her head sadly but offered no further protest as the boat
held to its course. Not until the craft grated gently against one of the
floats at Ottman's did Sara seem to note the girls' approach. Glancing up
from her work, she stared at them, and then deliberately looked away.
"The air's still chilly," Penny remarked in an undertone. "Well, we'll
see."
Making "Pop's Worry" fast to a spar, she walked across the float to
confront Sara.
"Miss Ottman," she began quietly, "if I've done anything to offend you, I
wish to apologize."
Sara turned slowly to face Penny. "You owe me no apology," she said in a
cold voice.
"Then why do you dislike me? I always thought I was welcome around here
until today. My father has given you considerable business."
"I'm sorry I spoke to you the way I did," Sara replied stiffly and with
no warmth. "It was rude of me."
"But why am I such poison?" Penny persisted. "What have I done?"
"You _honestly_ don't know?"
"Why, of course not. I shouldn't be asking if I did."
Sara stared at Penny as if wondering whether or not to accept her remarks
as sincere.
"Do you only write for the papers?" she asked, a slight edge to her
voice. "You never read them?"
"I don't know what you mean." Penny was truly bewildered. "Has this
misunderstanding something to do with the bridge dynamiting?"
Sara nodded her head grimly. "It has," she agreed. "Didn't you see the
morning paper?"
"Why, no."
"Then wait a minute." Sara turned and vanished into the boat shed. A
moment later she reappeared, carrying a copy of the _Star_.
"Read that," she directed, thrusting the black headlines in front of
Penny's eyes. "Now do you understand why I feel that you're no friend of
mine?"
CHAPTER
5
_HELD ON SUSPICION_
Penny gazed at the _Riverview Star's_ front page headline which
proclaimed:
"BURT OTTMAN ARRESTED AS SUSPECT IN BRIDGE DYNAMITING."
The opening paragraph of the news story, was even more dismaying. It
began:
"Acting upon information provided by Miss Penelope Parker, police today
arrested Burt Ottman, owner of the Ottman Boat Dock, charging him with
participation in the Friday night dynamiting of Thompson's bridge."
Penny hastily scanned the remainder of the story and then protested: "But
I never even mentioned your brother's name to police, Miss Ottman! Why, I
certainly didn't think that he had any connection with the dynamiting."
"You certainly didn't think, period," Sara replied, though in a less
severe tone. "You told police that the motorboat used in the dynamiting
was one of our boats."
"Well, it looked like it to me. Perhaps I was mistaken."
"You weren't mistaken. The boat definitely was one of ours. It was stolen
from here about a month ago."
Penny drew a deep breath. "Then in that case, I don't see why suspicion
should fall upon your brother."
"Didn't you tell police that a young man corresponding to his description
was handling the boat?"
"Indeed I didn't."
"Then it must have been the watchman who provided the description," Sara
corrected. "At any rate, police identified the boat as ours, and arrested
Burt. They have him at the station now."
"It never occurred to me that anyone would suspect your brother," Penny
said soberly. "Why, everyone along the river knows him well. It should be
easy for him to prove his innocence."
"True, it should be," Sara replied bitterly. "The arrest angered Burt,
and he made matters worse by refusing to answer questions the police
asked him."
"Oh, that was a mistake."
"Yes, but Burt has a great deal of pride. The police never should have
arrested him."
"I certainly agree with you," declared Penny, for she could not envision
young Ottman as a saboteur. "Can't your brother prove where he was last
night at the time of the explosion?"
"That's just it." Sara looked troubled as she reached to take the
newspaper. "He refuses to offer any alibi."
"But you must know yourself where your brother spent his time."
"I wish I did. He left here about seven o'clock and didn't return home
until early this morning--just a half hour before the police came to
arrest him."
"Oh!"
"All the same, Burt had no connection with the dynamiting," Sara said
quickly. "He frequently stays out late at night. I've never questioned
him, for it was none of my affair."
Penny scarcely knew what to reply. "I can understand now why you're
provoked at me," she said after a moment. "But I assure you I had no
intention of involving your brother with the police. I certainly never
gave them his description."
Sara smiled and in a charming gesture extended her hand.
"I'm sorry I talked as I did to you," she apologized. "Forget it, will
you?"
"Of course," Penny agreed generously. "And if there's anything I can do
to help--"
The float creaked and both girls turned to see Bill Evans coming toward
them.
"Hi!" he greeted the girls impartially. "Miss Ottman, wonder if I can get
you to help me?"
"I suppose you're having trouble with that motor of yours again," sighed
Sara. "Or should I say yet?"
"I've lost it in the river," Bill confessed sheepishly. "Blamed thing
cost me sixty dollars second-hand too!"
"In the river!" gasped Penny. "What did you do, get peeved and toss it
overboard?"
The saddened young man shook his head. "Guess I didn't have it fastened
on very well. Anyhow, just as I was leaving the dock, off she fell into
about ten feet of water."
"I hope you buoyed the spot," said Sara.
"Yes, I marked it with a floating can. Some of the boys have been trying
to get 'er up for me, but no luck. If you can do it, I'll pay five
dollars."
"Well, I'm pretty busy," Miss Ottman said in a harassed voice. "Burt's
not here and it keeps me jumping to run the launch and rent the canoes.
But I'll see what I can do this afternoon."
"Thanks," Bill replied gratefully, turning away. "Thanks a lot."
When the young man was beyond hearing distance, Penny spoke again of Burt
Ottman's unfortunate arrest.
"I'm sorry about everything, Miss Ottman," she said earnestly. "If you
wish, I'll talk to the police and assure them that so far as I know, the
saboteur did not resemble your brother. It was too dark for me to really
see him."
"I'll feel very grateful if you will speak a good word for Burt," Sara
responded. She sank down on an overturned bucket and pressed a hand to
her temple. "Oh, my head's splitting! Everything's been coming at me so
fast. The police were here questioning me and they twisted my remarks all
around. I'll have to raise bail for Burt, but where the money is coming
from I don't know."
The last of Penny's resentment toward the girl faded away. From the jerky
way Sara spoke, she knew that her thoughts were darting from one
perplexing problem to another.
"I don't know what I'm doing or saying today," Sara said miserably. "If
you can forgive me--"
"Of course! I don't blame you a bit for speaking to me the way you did.
May I borrow a sponge for a minute?"
Sara smiled and nodded. Eager to make amends, she ran into the shed and
returned with the desired article.
"There's still a little water in my boat," Penny explained. "Thought I'd
sop it up."
"Let me do it," Sara offered. Without waiting for permission she went to
the sailboat, and with a friendly nod at the astonished Louise, began to
sponge out the cockpit.
"I see you've collected one of Old Noah's souvenirs," she remarked a
moment later, noticing the blue bottle which Penny had tossed into the
bottom of the boat.
"We found it floating in the water," Louise volunteered. "The message was
such a queer one--an invitation to take refuge in the ark during the
Great Deluge. Someone's idea of a joke, I suppose."
"It's no joke," Sara corrected. "Noah is a very real person. He actually
lives in an ark too--a weird looking boat he built himself."
"You mean the old fellow actually believes there's going to be another
great flood?" Penny asked incredulously.
"Oh, yes! Noah is so sure of it that he's collected a regular menagerie
of animals to live with him on the ark. He keeps dropping bottles into
the water warning folks that the Great Deluge is coming. I fish out
dozens of them here at the dock."
"Where is the ark?" Penny inquired curiously.
Sara squeezed the last drop of water from the sponge and pointed
diagonally upstream toward a gap in the trees.
"That's where Bug Run empties into the river," she explained. "Noah has
his ark grounded not far from its mouth. The currents are such that
whenever he dumps his bottles in the water most of them come this way."
"Rather a nuisance I should think," commented Penny.
"Noah's a pest!" Sara complained, straightening from her task. "I suppose
he's harmless, but those bottles of his create a hazard for our boats.
Burt has asked him several times not to throw them in the water. He just
keeps right on doing it."
The sun now was directly overhead and Penny and Louise knew that they
were expected at their homes for luncheon. Thanking Sara for her
services, they sailed on to their own dock. As they hastened through the
park to a bus line, Penny remarked that it would be fun sometime to visit
Noah and his ark.
"Well, perhaps," Louise rejoined without a great deal of enthusiasm.
The buses were off schedule and for a long while the girls waited
impatiently at the street corner. Penny was gazing absently toward a cafe
nearby when a short, untidy man with shaggy gray hair, came out of the
building.
"Why, isn't that Mr. Oaks, the bridge watchman?" she asked her chum.
"It looks like him."
From far up the street an approaching bus could be seen, but Penny had
lost all interest in boarding it.
"Louise, let's talk to Mr. Oaks," she urged, starting toward him.
"But we'll miss our bus."
"Who cares about that?" Penny took Louise firmly by an elbow, pulling her
along. "We may not have another chance to see Mr. Oaks. I want to ask him
why he identified the saboteur as Sara Ottman's brother."
CHAPTER
6
_OLD NOAH_
Carl Oaks saw the girls approaching, and recognized them with a curt nod
of his head. He responded to their cheerful greeting, but with no warmth.
"I was hoping to see you, Mr. Oaks," Penny began the conversation. "Last
night Louise and I had no opportunity to express our appreciation for the
way you helped us."
"Well, I didn't help myself any," the old watchman broke in. "It was sure
bad luck for me when your sailboat came floatin' down the river. Now I've
lost my job."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear it."
"I don't know what I'm going to do," Mr. Oaks resumed in a whining tone.
"I've never been strong and I can't do hard work."
"Perhaps you can find another job as a watchman."
"No one will take me on after what happened last night."
"But it wasn't your fault the bridge was dynamited."
"Folks always are ready to push a man down if they get the chance," Mr.
Oaks said bitterly. "No, I'm finished in this seedy town! I'd pull out if
I had the price of a ticket."
Penny was decidedly troubled. "You mustn't take that attitude, Mr. Oaks,"
she replied. "Maybe I can help you."
The watchman looked interested, but amused. "How can you help me?" he
demanded.
"My father owns the _Riverview Star_. Perhaps he can use an extra
watchman at the newspaper building. If not, he may know someone who will
employ you."
"I've always worked around the waterfront," Mr. Oaks returned,
brightening a bit. "You know I ain't able to do much walkin' or any heavy
lifting. Maybe your father can get me another job on a bridge."
"Well, I don't know," Penny responded. "I'll talk to him. Just give me
your address so I can notify you later."
Mr. Oaks scribbled a few lines on the back of an old envelope and handed
it to her. He did not express appreciation for the offer Penny had made,
accepting it as his just due.
"I suppose the police questioned you about the bridge dynamiting," she
remarked, pocketing the address.
"Sure, they gave me the works," he acknowledged, shrugging. "Kept me at
the station half the night. Then this morning they had me identify one of
the suspects."
"_Not_ Burt Ottman?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't identify him as the saboteur?" Penny inquired in dismay.
"I told the police he looked like the fellow. And he did."
"But how could you see his face?" Penny protested. "The motorboat
traveled so fast! Even when the man crawled out of the water and ran, one
could only tell that he was tall and thin."
"He looked like young Ottman to me," the watchman insisted stubbornly.
"Well, guess I'll shove on. You talk to your father and let me know about
that job. I can use 'er."
Without giving the girls a chance to ask another question, Mr. Oaks moved
off down the street.
"Now if things aren't in a nice mess," Penny remarked as she and Louise
retraced their way to the bus stop. "No wonder the police held Burt
Ottman! I don't see how Mr. Oaks could have thought he resembled the
saboteur."
"I'm sure I didn't get a good look at the fellow," Louise returned. "Mr.
Oaks must have wonderful eyes, to say the least."
After a ten minute wait, a bus came along, and the girls rode to their
separate homes. Penny ate luncheon, helped Mrs. Weems with the dishes and
then slipped away to her father's newspaper office.
An early afternoon edition of the _Star_ had just rolled from the press.
Entering the editorial room, Penny noted that it appeared to have been
swept by a whirlwind. Discarded copy lay on the floor, and there were
more wads of paper around the scrap baskets than in them.
Jerry Livingston's battered typewriter served as a comfortable foot rest
for his unpolished shoes. Seeing Penny, he removed them to the floor, and
grinned at her.
"Hello, Miss Pop-Eye!" he said affectionately. "How's our little sailor?"
"Never mind," returned Penny. "What's this I hear about Burt Ottman being
arrested by the police?"
"That's how it is." The grin faded from the reporter's face. "Tough on
DeWitt too."
"DeWitt?" Penny inquired. She could not guess what connection the editor
might have with the dynamiting case.
Jerry glanced about the news room to make certain that DeWitt was not
within hearing. In a low tone he confided:
"Didn't you know? Burt Ottman is DeWitt's first cousin. It rather puts
him in a spot, being kin to a saboteur."
"Nothing has been proved against Ottman yet."
"All the same, it looks bad for the kid. When the story came in it gave
DeWitt a nasty jolt."
"I should think so," nodded Penny. "Why, I never dreamed that he was
related to the Ottmans."
"Neither did anyone else in the office. But you have to hand it to
DeWitt. He took it squarely between the eyes. Didn't even play the story
down nor ask your father to soft pedal it."
"Mr. DeWitt is a real newspaper man."
"Bet your life!" Jerry agreed with emphasis. "He's gone young Ottman's
bail to the tune of ten thousand dollars."
"Why, that must represent a good portion of his life time savings."
"Sure, but DeWitt says the kid has been framed, and he's going to stand
by him."
"I think myself that Burt Ottman was too far away to be properly
identified. I mean to tell the police so, too."
"Well, we all hope for DeWitt's sake that it is a mistake," Jerry said
soberly. "But the evidence is stacking up fast. The motorboat came from
Ottman's. Carl Oaks said he recognized the saboteur as young Ottman. Then
this morning police found a handkerchief with an initial 'O' lying along
the shore not far from where the fellow crawled out of the water."
"Circumstantial evidence."
"Maybe so," Jerry agreed with a shrug, "but unless young Ottman gets a
good lawyer, he's likely to find himself doing a long stretch."
Deeply troubled by the information, Penny went on toward her father's
private office. As she passed the main copy desk where Editor DeWitt
worked, she noticed that his face was white and tense. Although he
usually had a smile for her, he barely glanced up and did not speak.
Penny tapped twice and entered her father's office. Mr. Parker had just
finished dictating a letter to his secretary who quietly gathered up her
notebook and departed. The newspaper owner pretended to glance at the
calendar on his desk.
"Unless I'm all muddled, this is Saturday, not Thursday," he greeted his
daughter teasingly. "Aren't you a bit mixed up?"
"Maybe so," Penny admitted, seating herself on a corner of the desk.
"You seldom honor me with a call except to collect your Thursday
allowance."
"Oh, I'm not concerned with money these days," Penny said, trying to
balance a paper weight on her father's head. "It's this dynamiting case
that has me all tied in a knot."
"Stop it, Penny!" Irritably, Mr. Parker squirmed in his chair. "This is
an office, not a child's play room!"
"Try to give me your undivided attention, Dad. I want you to do me a
favor."
"How about granting me one first? Please stop playing with the gadgets on
my desk!"
"Why, of course," grinned Penny, backing away. "Now about this job for
Carl Oaks--"
"Job?"
"Yes, he was relieved of duty at the Thompson bridge, you know. It was
partly my fault. So I want you to square matters by finding other work
for him."
"Penny, I am _not_ an employment agency! Anyway, what do I know about the
man?"
"I owe him a job, Dad. He says he likes to work around the waterfront.
Can't you get him something to do? Oh, yes, it has to be an easy job
because he can't walk and he can't lift anything."
"How about a nice pension?" Mr. Parker demanded. He sighed and added,
"Well, I'll see what I can do for him. Now run along, because I have work
to get out."
Feeling certain that her father would find a suitable position for the
old watchman, Penny went directly from the newspaper office to Louise
Sidell's home. After relating all the latest news, she asked her chum if
she would not enjoy another excursion to the river.
"But we were just there a few hours ago!" Louise protested. "I've had
enough sailing for one day."
"Oh, I don't care to sail either," Penny corrected hastily. "I thought it
might be interesting to call on Old Noah."
"That queer old man who has the ark?"
"What do you say?"
"Oh, all right," Louise agreed, rather intrigued by the prospect. "But if
we get into trouble, just remember it was your idea."
By bus the girls rode to a point near the river. Without approaching
Ottman's Dock, they crossed the Big Bear over Thompson's bridge which had
just been opened to pedestrian traffic only. Making their way along the
eastern shore, they came at last to the mouth of Bug Run.
"It looks like rain to me," Louise declared, scanning the fast-moving
clouds. "Just our luck to be caught in a downpour."
"Maybe we can take refuge in the ark," Penny laughed, leading the way up
the meandering stream. "That is, if we can find it."
Trees and bushes grew thick and green along either bank of the run.
Several times the girls were forced to muddy their shoes in order to
proceed. In one shady glade, a bullfrog blinked at them before making a
hasty dive into the lilypads.
There was no sign of a boat or any structure remotely resembling an ark.
And then, rounding a bend, they suddenly saw it silhouetted against a
darkening sky.
"Why, it looks just as if it had rolled out of The Old Testament!" Louise
cried in astonishment.
The ark, painted red and blue, rose three stories from the muddy water. A
large, circular window had been built in the uppermost part, and there
were tiny, square openings beneath. From within could be heard a strange
medley of animal sounds--the cackling of hens, the squeal of a pig, the
squawking of a saucy parrot who kept calling: "Noah! Oh, Noah!"
Louise gripped Penny's hand. "Let's not go any nearer," she said
uneasily. "It's starting to rain, and we ought to make a double dash for
home."
A few drops of rain splashed into the stream. Dropping on the tin roof of
the ark like tiny pellets of metal, they made a loud drumming sound. The
disturbed hens began to cluck on their roosts. The parrot screeched
loudly, "Oh, Noah! Come Noah!"
"Where is Noah?" Penny asked with a nervous giggle. "I certainly must see
him before we leave."
As if in answer to her question, they heard a strange series of sounds
from deep within the woods. A cow mooed, and a man spoke soothing words.
Soon there emerged from among the trees a bewildering assortment of
animals and fowl--a cow, a goat, a pig, and two fat turkeys. An old man
with a long white beard which fell to his chest, drove the creatures
toward the gangplank of the ark.
"Get along, Bessie," he urged the cow, tapping her with his crooked
stick. "The Lord maketh the rain to fall for forty days and forty nights,
but you shall be saved. Into the ark!"
Penny fairly hugged herself with delight.
"Oh, Louise, we can't go now," she whispered. "That must be Old Noah. And
isn't he a darling?"
CHAPTER
7
_ARK OF THE MUD FLATS_
Unaware that he was being observed, Old Noah again rapped the cow smartly
on her flanks.
"Get along, Bessie," he urged impatiently. "The Heavens will open any
minute now, and all the creatures of the earth shall perish. But this
calamity shall not befall you, Bessie. You are one of God's chosen."
None too willing to be saved from impending doom, Bessie bellowed a loud
protest as she was driven into the over-crowded ark. Next went the goat
and the squealing pig. The turkeys made more trouble, gobbling excitedly
as the old man shooed them into the confines of the three-storied boat.
His task accomplished, Old Noah wiped his perspiring brow with a big red
handkerchief. He stood for a moment, gazing anxiously up at the boiling
storm clouds.
"This is it--the second great flood," he murmured. "For the Lord sayeth,
'I will cause it to rain forty days and forty nights and every living
substance that I have made will I destroy from off the face of the
earth.'"
As he stood thus, gazing at the sky, Noah made a striking figure. In his
prime, the old man evidently had been a stalwart physical specimen, and
advancing years had not enfeebled him. His face was that of a Prophet of
old. A certain child-like simplicity shone from a pair of trusting blue
eyes whose direct gaze bespoke implicit belief.
"Let's speak to him," Penny urged. Although Louise tried to hold back,
she pulled her along toward the ark.
Old Noah heard the girls coming and turned quickly around. After the
first moment of startled surprise, he leaned on his crooked stick and
inquired with a kind smile:
"Why have you come, my daughters?"
"Well, we were curious to see this fine ark," Penny replied. "We picked
up one of your floating blue bottles with a message in it."
"Blessed are they that heed the warnings of the Lord," murmured Old Noah.
"I, his servant, have prepared a place of refuge for all who come."
By this time rain was falling steadily, and Louise huddled against a tree
trunk for protection. "Penny, for Pete's Sake--" she protested.
"Follow me, my daughters," bade Old Noah, motioning for them to cross the
gangplank into the ark. "Inside you will find food and shelter."
"We could use a little shelter," said Penny, glancing questioningly at
her chum. "How about it, Lou? Shall we go inside and meet the animals?"
Louise hesitated, for in truth she was a bit afraid of the queer old man.
"Come, my daughters," Noah bade again. "Have no fear. The Lord sayeth,
'Noah, with thee will I establish my covenant, and thou shalt enter into
the ark.'"
"We'll drown if we stay outside," laughed Penny, following boldly after
the old man. "Come on, Louise."
Unmindful of the falling rain, Noah stooped to pick up a bedraggled
kitten from underfoot.
"It's a very nice boat," Penny remarked, dodging under the shelter of the
roof. Louise huddled close beside her.
"A sturdy ark," agreed Old Noah proudly. "Many, many months did I labor
building it. The Lord said, 'make thee an ark of gopher wood.' But of
gopher wood there was none to be had. Then the Lord came to me in a dream
and said, 'Noah, use anything you can find.' So I gathered timbers from
the beaches, and I wrecked an abandoned cottage I found in the woods. I
felled trees. And I pitched the seams within and without as the Lord bade
me."
"What animals do you keep inside?" Penny inquired curiously.
"Well, mostly creatures that aren't too exacting in their needs," said
Noah, perching the wet kitten on his shoulder. "The Lord sayeth two of
every kind, male and female. But it wasn't practical. Some of the animals
were too big to keep aboard the ark."
A disturbance from within the boat interrupted the old man's explanation.
"Excuse me, daughters, I've got to fasten Bessie in her stall," he
apologized. "If I keep her waitin' she's apt to kick the ark to pieces!"
Old Noah disappeared into the lower story of the boat. Peering in the
open door, the girls saw row upon row of stalls and cages. There was a
sty for the pigs, a pen for the goat, a little kennel for the dog, low
roosts for the fowls. The walls of the room had been whitewashed and the
floor was clean.
"What a life Old Noah must lead!" Louise whispered to Penny. "Why, it
must be worse than being a zoo keeper!"
In a moment the old fellow reappeared. Beckoning to the girls, he led
them up a little flight of stairs to the second floor of the ark.
"This is my bird room," he said, opening a door.
"Hello, Noah!" croaked a brilliantly colored parrot, fluttering on her
perch. "You old rascal! Polly wants a slug o' rum!"
Noah glanced quickly at the girls. "I am humble and ashamed," he
apologized. "But the bird means no evil. I bought her of a sailor, who, I
fear had wandered from the ways of righteousness."
Placing a drink of water near the parrot, the old man directed attention
to a cage containing a pair of doves.
"When the flood waters recede, I shall send these birds forth from a
window of the ark," he explained. "If they return with a branch of a bush
or any green thing, then I shall know that the Lord no longer is angry."
"How long do you imagine it will rain?" Louise asked absently, staring
out the little round window.
"Forty days and forty nights," answered Old Noah. Taking a bag of seed,
he began to feed the chirping birds. "While your stay here may be
somewhat confining, you will find my ark sturdy and snug."
"Our stay here," Louise echoed hollowly.
Penny gave her a little pinch and said to Old Noah, "We appreciate your
hospitality and will be happy to remain until the rain slackens. But
where are your living quarters?"
"On the third floor. First, before I conduct you there, I will throw out
a few bottles. Although the fatal hour is near at hand, a number of
persons may yet read my message and seek refuge in time to be saved."
While the girls watched with deep interest, Old Noah moved to the
porthole. Opening it, he tossed into the muddy waters a half dozen corked
bottles which he selected from a basket beneath the window.
"Now," he bade, turning again to Penny and Louise, "follow me and I will
show you my humble quarters."
By this time the girls scarcely knew what to expect, but the third floor
of the ark proved rather a pleasant surprise. Old Noah had fitted it out
with compartments, a tiny kitchen, living quarters, and a bedroom. The
main room had a rug on the floor, there were several homemade chairs and
a radio. Evidently, the master of the ark was musically inclined, for a
shelf contained an accordion, a banjo and a mouth organ.
"Just sit down and make yourselves comfortable, daughters," Old Noah
invited, waving them toward chairs. "I'll stir up a bite to eat."
Entering the tiny kitchen, he poked about among the shelves. Watching
rather anxiously, the girls next saw him open one of the portholes to
test his fishing lines. Finding one taut, he pulled in a large catfish
which he immediately began to dress.
"He intends to cook that for us," Louise whispered. "I'll not even taste
it! Oh, let's get away from here!"
Penny wandered to the window. The sky had grown much lighter, and trees
which had been blotted out by the heavy rain, now were visible.
"The storm is almost over," she said encouragingly. "Let's step outside
and see how things look."
Noah, occupied with his culinary affairs, did not glance up as the girls
quietly slipped away. Descending the steps to the main deck, they huddled
close against a wall to keep dry. Rain still fell, but even as they
watched it slackened.
"Let's say goodbye to Noah and streak for home," Louise suggested, eager
to be off.
Before Penny could reply, both girls were startled to see a stranger
emerge from among the bushes along the shore. He wore a raincoat, a
broad-brimmed hat which dripped water, and a bright badge gleamed on his
chest.
"I'm Sheriff Anderson," he announced, coming close to the ark. "Is Dan
Grebe aboard?"
"Do you mean Old Noah?" Penny asked doubtfully.
"Most folks call him that. An old man who's lost his buttons, but
harmless. He's been maintaining a public nuisance here with his ark."
As the sheriff started to come aboard, Old Noah himself stepped out on
deck.
"So here you be again!" he shouted angrily, grasping the narrow railing
of the gangplank. "Didn't I warn you not to trespass on the property of
the Lord?"
"Noah, we've been patient with you," the sheriff replied wearily. "The
last time I was here, you promised to clean up this dump and move your
ark down stream. Now you're going with me to talk to the judge."
"Stand back! Stand back!" Old Noah shouted as the officer started across
the gangplank. "Beware, or I'll call the wrath of the Lord down on your
head!"
The sheriff laughed and came on. With surprising strength and agility,
Old Noah jerked the gangplank loose from the ark and hurled it into the
water. Sheriff Anderson made a desperate lunge for an overhanging tree
branch. Failing to seize it, he fell with a loud splash into the muddy
river.
CHAPTER
8
_THE GREEN PARROT_
Old Noah slapped his thigh and cackled with glee as he watched Sheriff
Anderson splash about in the muddy water.
"That'll teach you!" he shouted jubilantly. "You meddlin' son of evil!
Next time maybe you will know enough to mind your own business and leave
my ark alone!"
Penny and Louise stood ready to toss the sheriff a rope, but he did not
need it. Clinging to the floating gangplank, the man awkwardly propelled
himself to shore. As he tried to climb up the steep bank, his boots
slipped and he fell flat on his face in the mud. Old Noah went off into
another fit of laughter which fairly shook the ark at its mooring.
"Laugh, you old coot!" the sheriff muttered, picking himself up. "I've
been mighty patient with you, but there's a limit. Tomorrow I'm coming
back here with a detail of deputies. I'll run you and your ark out o'
here if it's the last thing I do!"
"Be off with you!" ordered Noah arrogantly. "Before _my_ patience is
gone!"
"Okay, Noah, you win this round," the sheriff muttered furiously. "I'm
going, but I'll be back. And if this ark isn't cleaned up or out o' here,
we'll put you away!"
A sorry figure with his clothing wet and muddy, the official stomped
angrily off into the woods.
"I'm afraid you antagonized the wrong man that time, Noah," Penny
remarked as the footsteps died away. "What will you do when he returns?"
"That time will never come," Old Noah replied, undisturbed. "Before the
Lord will allow the ark to be taken from me, he will smite my enemies
with lightning from the Heavens."
Penny and Louise had their own opinion of what would happen to the ark
and its animals, but wisely said nothing to further disturb the old
fellow. By this time the rain had entirely ceased and a ray of sunshine
straggled through the ragged clouds.
"Well, guess this isn't to be the Great Flood after all," Penny remarked,
studying the sky. "We're most grateful for the shelter of your ark, Noah.
Now if we can just reach shore, we'll be on our way."
"Aren't you staying for dinner?" the old man asked in disappointment.
"I'm fryin' up a nice catfish."
"I'm afraid we can't remain today," Penny answered. "Another time
perhaps." Using a long, hooked pole, Old Noah retrieved the drifting
gangplank and refastened it to the ark.
"Farewell, my daughters," he said regretfully as he bade them goodbye.
"You and your friends always will be welcome to take refuge in my ark.
The Great Flood is coming soon, but you are among the chosen."
Feeling decidedly exhilarated by their meeting with such a strange
character, Louise and Penny followed the twisting stream to the main
river channel. Water was rising rapidly along the banks and at many
places, bushes and tree branches dipped low in the swirling eddies.
"You know, if these spring rains keep up, Noah may get his big flood
after all," Penny remarked. "Poor old fellow! He certainly sealed the
fate of his ark when he pushed Sheriff Anderson into Bug Run."
Turning homeward toward the Thompson Bridge, the girls soon approached
the river bank where police had searched for the escaped saboteur.
Curious to see the locality by daylight, they detoured slightly in order
to pass it.
"This is the place," Penny said, indicating ground which had been
trampled by many feet. "At the rate the river rises, the shore here will
be under by tomorrow."
"I suppose police learned everything they could last night."
"Yes, they went over the area rather thoroughly," Penny nodded. "I know
they took photographs and made measurements of the saboteur's footprints.
Lucky they did, because the water has washed them all away."
"You still can see where the automobile was parked," Louise declared,
pointing to tire tracks in the soft earth. "Were any real clues found,
Penny?"
"Jerry told me police picked up a handkerchief bearing the initial 'O.'"
"That could stand for Ottman!"
"Likewise Oscar or Oliver or Oxenstiern," Penny added, frowning. "I'll
admit though, it doesn't look too bright for Sara's brother."
Having satisfied their curiosity regarding the locality, the girls
started on toward the bridge. Before they had gone a dozen feet, Penny's
eye was caught by an object lying half-buried in the mud. She picked it
up gingerly and dangling it in front of Louise was amazed to discover
that it was a man's leather billfold.
"Anything inside?" inquired Louise with interest.
Penny opened the flap and explored the various divisions of the money
container. To her disappointment it held nothing save one small card upon
which had been scribbled a few words.
"'The Green Parrot--'" she read aloud. "'Tuesday at 9:15.' Now what does
that mean?"