The Mystery on the Mississippi

stopping there!” Honey sang out confidently. “We’ve passed it. Mrs. Aguilera would never let anything bad happen to us.”
    It was true that they had passed the house. They were back of it now, on a bumpy trail overhung with branches. The Cadillac nosed its bulk slowly through the thickening vines and came to a stop.
    “Get out!” Mr. Aguilera ordered.
    “We must walk from here,” his wife said soothingly. “It’s not a very good path, so watch where you’re going. We’re not far from where the authorities and the others are waiting. I’m sorry you’re going to get your feet wet.”
    “We don’t mind that,” Honey said.
    It’s only a lark for her, Trixie thought resignedly. Heaven only knows what’s waiting for us. I’m glad Honey isn’t suspicious. What good would it do us if she were?
    Mrs. Aguilera gave Honey’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t be afraid. Very soon now you will see your friends. Just think, you’ll be in on the solution of a very big mystery!”
    In spite of herself, Trixie’s heart quickened. There was a bare chance... but no! The old distrust returned with increased intensity.
    No one had a flashlight but Mr. Aguilera. They followed his steps closely, thrusting aside vines and bushes, stumbling, almost falling, as they went blindly along.
    From the murky distance ahead of them, there were the sounds of late birds settling for the night.
    Trees rustled, and bare branches over their heads rubbed their ghostly arms together. Silence, silence— except for the sound of their own groping feet as twigs crackled and broke beneath them.
    There was a peculiar smell in the night air, a pungent smell of rotting vegetation and deadwood. It was a familiar smell— Willows!
    “We’re near the river, aren’t we?” Trixie asked. “Is that where everyone is going to meet us? Are we really going to meet Mr. Wheeler and the rest of them?”
    “Of course we are, Trixie,” Honey assured her. “This is scary, though, isn’t it? It’s so dark. I hope we’ll get there soon.”
    Mr. Aguilera strode ahead, his big feet sloshing loudly in the increasingly marshy ground. He flashed his light from side to side and down at the ground in front of him. “Watch out for snakes!” he called.
    Honey cried out in terror. “I’m deathly afraid of snakes!” She stopped, unable to move another foot.
    “Now you’ve done it,” Mrs. Aguilera called to her husband. “You’ve scared Honey so, she can’t even move. We’ll have to carry her.”
    “Carry her?” Mr. Aguilera repeated, laughing. “I can just see myself carrying one of those brats. Give her a good hard kick. That’ll boot her ahead, all right.”
    “He... didn’t... mean... that... did... he?”
    Honey asked, trembling all over.
    “Of course he didn’t. He’s just anxious to get to where we’re going. There aren’t any snakes here, anyway, and you don’t need to be afraid. Here, take my hand.” Mrs. Aguilera grasped Honey’s arm and drew her forward, forcing her to lift her feet and follow along. i
    As Honey faltered, Trixie’s mind darted quickly from one thing to another. She thought of the first meeting with Lontard at the motel and how his piercing dark eyes bored through her. She remembered the menacing bulk of the Mercedes as it crowded their helpless car on the highway—helpless till Jim’s quick recovery eluded the car bearing down on them. Oh, if the boys were only with them now! She remembered how she had almost stumbled into the river from the barge far in front of the Catfish Princess. She recalled the thieves in her stateroom and the person she saw swimming away from the towboat. It certainly was Lontard.
    She remembered the false message sent to Mr. Wheeler from Cairo, the way Bob had acted on the Comet, and the landings he had attempted to make. She remembered the one he did make, with the Coast Guard in pursuit.
    She remembered, shivering, her struggle in the swimming pool and the man who disappeared as she sat on the edge of the pool.
    She thought of Jackson’s Island and the evidence Lontard had left there. Everything clicked into focus, even the car that roared onto the highway as their car left the old house.
    Now here they were, right back on the same road, and ahead of them a watery death in the river!
    “There’s an old boat!” Honey cried as the trees ended in a great open space. “It’s the Mississippi River and an old steamboat, Trixie! Now, that’s where we’re going to meet my dad and