The Mystery on the Mississippi

was mistaken,” he called back to the angry men. “Better fishing next time!”
    “Don’t you think that was queer?” Trixie whispered to Honey as the boat sped on its course. “Bob’s been acting sort of odd ever since we started, not a bit good-natured the way he was when he invited us on board. I wonder....” She bent her head close to Dan. “Did you hear that car up on the road when we stopped? Bob seemed to be listening for it. Or am I crazy?”
    “You’re not crazy,” Dan assured her. “Just pipe down. Keep quiet. Don’t say a thing.”
    “Then you think something’s odd, too?”
    “I’m sure of it. Hush!”
    Bob bent low over the wheel again.
    The willowed shoreline whizzed by in a green blur.
    Faster they went, and faster, throwing the spray high and white. The Comet fairly jumped through the water. The flying landscape changed from flat marshy land to sandstone cliffs that rose high above the shore. Jim’s face turned white as they watched Bob steer into the track of a sailboat manned by two young boys. “Watch it!” he called sharply.
    Bob only growled and sped ahead, breaking every river traffic rule.
    Men in small boats shook their fists angrily as they rocked dangerously in the wake of the Comet. Tow-boats whistled sharp warnings as Bob ran perilously close to their crawling barges.
    Trixie was certain now that there was something alarming about Bob’s actions. There wasn’t much to connect him with Pierre Lontard, yet she was sure he was in cahoots with the young man in some way. Could they have arranged a rendezvous at the spot where Bob ran into the fishermen? Bob had been furious when he saw the men.
    Jim and Brian, sober-faced, relayed knowing glances to Mart and Dan, immediately back of them, and to the girls. They said little to one another, and what they did say was sometimes lost because of the roar of the boat’s motor.
    Trixie’s mind went frantically back to the lobby of the Heartland Motel, where they had waited. She tried to remember anything that had happened there that might throw some light on Bob’s behavior. When had she first noticed him? Not till they were dickering with the taxi drivers. No... that wasn’t quite true. She had noticed a yachting cap on the head of someone in the lobby. Could Bob possibly have been Lontard’s stool pigeon all the time? Could Lontard have stationed him at the motel to watch for the Bob-Whites? Had he watched for a chance to get them on his boat? Sadly Trixie thought: We did something Moms has been warning us against ever since we could talk: We accepted a ride with a stranger.
    Trixie put her head close to Dan’s. “I think we’ve been led into a trap,” she whispered hoarsely.
    Dan nodded. So did Mart. They knew, too.
    In front of Dan and Mart, Jim turned around, bent his head meaningfully toward Bob’s head in front of him, and held his finger to his lips.
    What could they do? Very little. Recklessly as he drove, Bob wasn’t going to do anything that would harm himself. So wrecking the Comet was out.
    Something, someone will be waiting to seize us, whenever and wherever he lands us, Trixie thought. That’s it. That’s why Bob was signaling, turning his lights on and off way back there when we were singing, just before he headed into that swamp. If the fishermen hadn’t been there.... Trixie shivered. Honey put her hand out and grasped Trixie’s, and Trixie squeezed hard. “Don’t be afraid,” she said as loudly as she dared. “Bob’s just showing off how fast the Comet will go. Remember? He’s going to race her tomorrow.”
    “I... don’t... think... that’s... it,” Honey answered.
    The Comet passed Cape Girardeau. It passed the levee of St. Genevieve.
    If Bob does happen to be in cahoots with Pierre Lontard, we’ll know it when we get to St. Louis, Trixie thought. That's when we'll find out what he's up to.
    The Comet slowed as they approached Jefferson Barracks, far below the city. This is it, Trixie thought quickly. Lontard will be waiting on shore for us. He's been following the road above the riverbank. Should we go overboard when he slows down? Would we be able to swim to some boat here in the river? The faces of the other Bob-Whites were just as serious as Trixie’s. Their eyes seemed to be seeking some avenue of escape.
    Bob, intent on making shore, steered directly toward a grove of willows. Trixie moved closer to Honey, motioned to the other Bob-Whites to huddle, then said aloud, “Shall