The Shadow 036 The Isle of Doubt by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1933-07-31T22:00:00+00:00

“I’m getting leery of this place,” declared the convict. “I’m ready to admit that maybe you’re right, Possum. I heard somebody plowing around out back—I’m sure of it. That’s why I took a look out there.”

“Any footprints?” questioned Possum.

“No,” returned Zach. “The grass is packed, and there’s no mud. But I followed over to the shore, and I thought I heard a noise like a guy rowing along the river.”

“Maybe some hick was paddlin’ home,” put in Lefty.

“This late?” queried Possum. “In all that fog? Guess again, Lefty. Not a chance. Well, Zach, you brought us here. I was leery from the start. What do you want to do now? Scram?”

“Not me,” retorted Zach. “I say get busy—that’s all. Maybe somebody’s spying on us—maybe he’s after the same swag we want. The best bet is to get him when he shows up again—that’s all.”

“You heard the boat rowing up the river,” remarked Possum. “If the fellow in it had been here, he was going away when you heard him. Remember the time the motor boat went by at night? I figured it was bound to the old plantation on this side of the landin’. Maybe the same fellow was in that boat.” The crooks pondered. Lefty Hotz was the first to make a suggestion —one that was promptly rejected.

“Let’s lay for the guy,” growled the big gangster. “Let him come ashore again—then gang him.”

“Nothing doing,” declared Possum. “We want to know who he is, first. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be on this island.”

“There’s good reason why I shouldn’t be anywhere,” interposed Zach. “I’m not far from where I made the jail break. Don’t forget that, Possum.”

“I’m not forgetting it,” said Possum. “It means you’ve got to lay low, that’s all. It also puts the kibosh on Lefty’s idea of starting trouble before we know what we’re about. Say”—Possum paused to look at Zach—“you don’t think that this fellow in the rowboat could have been prowling around that old wreck, do you?”

“No,” returned Zach. “I figured he slid away from the island here. That boat’s a tough place to get to, anyway. Remember the trouble we had when we went out there just when it was getting dark? Wading through that swamp—say, if we hadn’t used those boards we took with us, we’d have been in a nice mess.”

“Don’t forget the snakes,” growled Lefty. “Those what-you-call-‘ems —”

“Water moccasins,” remarked Zach. “They’re bad. Lucky one of us didn’t get bit.”

“I’m still figuring on the boat,” declared Possum. “It wouldn’t be so hard to get to the wreck from the other side. We’ve still got that skiff that we hid in the woods. We could get out to the old steamer by rowing over to the mainland, and coming in to it.”

“What for?” queried Zach. “The guy didn’t go there—”

“Maybe not,” interposed Possum, “but the chances are he will, if we play the game right. To-morrow night, we’ll take to the woods.”

“Then what?”

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