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Authors: Gertrude Chandler Warner

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BOOK: The Mystery of the Alligator Swamp
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After they’d delivered Billie’s supplies and gotten back to the cabin, Benny suddenly yawned. “I’m sleepy,” he said in surprise.

“You got up before the sun,” Grandfather said. “That’s why. Maybe you need to take a nap.”

“I could just lie down here on this bunk and shut my eyes for a few minutes,” Benny said.

He did. In only a few minutes he was sound asleep.

Grandfather said, “I’m going to sit in the shade and read until the hottest part of the day is over. Then we’ll see about trying to find Crying Bayou.”

“I’m not sleepy at all,” Jessie declared.

“Me, neither,” agreed Violet.

“We could go visit Swampwater’s place,” Henry suggested.

“Let’s go ask Billie where it is,” said Jessie instantly.

Grandfather had come out of the cabin with a book in his hand and overheard them. He took a chair over to the shade of the nearest tree and sat down. “Good luck,” he said and began to read.

Violet, Jessie, and Henry went over to the Bait ’n Bite. It was very hot now. No breeze stirred the heavy gray moss that hung like long beards from the trees. Only the insects whirred and buzzed.

They found Billie in her bait shop in a room next to the restaurant. An air conditioner roared in one of the two small windows of the room.

“Wow. It’s nice and cold in here,” said Jessie.

Billie looked up from a stack of mail she was sorting through and nodded. “I like to keep this room cold. My bait’s fresh, but hot weather can make it smell pretty strong.”

“Oh,” said Jessie.

Unfolding a piece of paper from an envelope, Billie studied it. “Well, here’s a mystery for you detectives.”

“Mystery?” asked Violet.

“The mystery of the mysterious phone calls,” said Billie. “This is the second bill I’ve had with a call to New Orleans listed for the Bait ’n Bite phone.” She nodded toward a phone on the wall in the narrow hall that led into the restaurant. Above the old phone a faded sign read,
LOCAL CALLS ONLY!!!

“You don’t recognize the phone number?” asked Henry.

“Nope.” Billie shook her head. “And I know I haven’t been calling New Orleans.” She smacked the bill down on a tray marked
OUT
on a shelf behind the counter. “Maybe I should get a pay phone. I hate to, though. Seems rude to my guests, somehow. Even if one of them is making phone calls they haven’t paid for.”

“Maybe the phone company made a mistake,” said Jessie.

“Maybe,” answered Billie. “I’ll be asking about that, you can be sure. Now, what can I do for you three?”

“We wanted to visit Swampwater Nelson’s tour place,” Violet said.

“So you heard about his museum,” said Billie.

“No. What museum?” asked Henry.

Billie grinned, running her hand through her red hair. “Well, it’s more like a big sort of one-room cabin he built, full of things he’s found in the swamp over the years. It’s pretty interesting, I can tell you.”

“It sounds as if it is,” said Jessie. “How do we get there? Is it far?

“A good walk. Go out to the end of the road here and turn right. Walk until you see a sign on your right that says,
SWAMPWATER NELSON’S TOURS AND SWAMP MUSEUM
. Turn there and follow the road to his place. Can’t miss it. It’s dirt roads the whole way and hardly ever any cars. But stay on one side of the road, just in case.”

“Thanks,” said Jessie.

“And if you see any snakes, just give ’em plenty of room and leave ’em alone,” Billie added.

“We will,” promised Violet.

“And if you see that alligator ghost, you catch it for me before it gives me any more trouble!” Billie laughed heartily and ripped open another envelope.

The three Aldens exchanged glances. “We will,” Henry promised. “When we find that ghost alligator, we’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

Chapter 6
Look and Listen

“Well, look who’s here!” Swampwater was doing just what the three Aldens had left Grandfather doing — sitting in the shade of a tree, reading a book.

“Hi,” said Jessie. “We came to see your museum.”

“And to learn more about the swamp. And alligators,” said Violet.

“You’ve come to the right place, my friends.” Swampwater stood up and tucked his book under his arm. “Step this way to Swampwater’s Swamp Museum.”

They went inside the small two-room cabin. Like Billie’s place, the cabin had a deep screened porch. It was right on the edge of the bayou, with a short pier over the water. Tied to the pier were two pirogues and a larger flat-bottom boat with bench seats and a canopy over the top of the seats for shade. All three boats had the words
SWAMPWATER NELSON’S SWAMP TOURS
on the sides, as did the house.

“Where’s Rose?” Henry asked Swampwater. “Doesn’t she help give the tours, too?”

“Ah, she’s taking the afternoon off,” said Swampwater. “Didn’t say why, though. Maybe this ghost business is too much for her,” he chuckled.

Jessie and Violet exchanged a questioning look. They’d hoped to talk to Rose a little more. Jessie remembered the worried look on Rose’s face when Eve talked about the ghost alligator. Did Rose believe in the ghost, too?

Swampwater led the way across the small room from which he sold tickets for the tours, as well as sunglasses, hats, maps, and a few souvenirs. Swampwater put his book on a counter that, like Billie’s, had an old-fashioned-looking cash register on it.

Jessie’s eyes widened. “Look,” she whispered to Violet. “His book. It’s about ghosts!”

It was true. The book was called
Ghost Facts for Everyone.

Swampwater opened a door on the one wall in the room where there wasn’t a window.

A blast of cool air flooded the tour office. It was like diving into a pool, thought Violet, as she followed Swampwater and her sister and brother into the museum.

The Aldens found themselves in a larger room lined with shelves and glass cabinets. As at Billie’s bait shop, an air conditioner roared noisily in one corner of the room. “Close the door behind you,” Swampwater told Violet. “I keep it cool to protect my collection. The hot wet air in these swamps makes things get moldy and rot.”

Violet quickly closed the door.

“Look at these!” Henry said.

“Alligator teeth,” said Swampwater. “I find them from time to time.”

“Alligator teeth,” said Jessie, giving Swampwater a sharp look.

“And these are turtle shells,” guessed Henry.

Swampwater nodded. “Found those, too. I don’t kill things for my museum. Just take what I find in the swamp and give it a good home.”

“What are these?” Jessie pointed to several curling, pale, leathery-looking scraps.

“Alligator eggs,” said Swampwater.

In spite of herself, Jessie jumped back.

“Oh, they’re not the actual eggs. Just the shells from an alligator nest, after the baby alligators had hatched. Believe me, I didn’t try to get any eggs from a nest with the mother alligator sitting on it!” Swampwater said.

“Alligators build nests?” asked Henry.

“They do. They’re ready to start having families when they’re about seven or eight years old and about seven or eight feet long. The mother builds a nest, lays eggs, and takes care of the nest. She protects it and keeps it warm and even turns the eggs so they don’t get too warm on one side and too cool on the other,” Swampwater said. He pointed to a photograph on the wall. “There’s a nest, with the mother next to it. Sometimes she sits on it. If you look closely, you can see the eggs.”

Henry bent so close that his nose almost touched the picture-frame glass. “How big do alligators get?” he asked.

“Pretty big,” said Swampwater. “I’ve seen fourteen-footers and I’ve heard of bigger.”

“What do they eat? Do they eat people?” Violet asked.

“They’re meat-eaters and they’ll eat pretty much anything they catch — turtles, raccoons, dead animals. They’ll even leap straight up out of the water to catch birds.”

“And people?” asked Violet again.

Swampwater held up his hands. “If you swim in water where there is an alligator, an alligator might mistake you for something to eat. That’s how most alligator attacks happen. And yes, I’ve heard of them coming after boats, too, when they think they’re threatened by the boats getting too close.”

“So you don’t get too close to them, even in a boat,” said Violet.

“That’s right. They can be very dangerous, no doubt about it. You can’t take chances with a gator,” said Swampwater.

“The baby alligators are cute, though,” said Jessie. She’d found another photograph on the museum wall. This one showed a mother alligator in the sun, surrounded by baby alligators. The young alligators had bright stripes and yellow blotches.

“Sometimes they stay around their nests for a few days. Then they take off. A mother alligator might just eat her young if they hang around too long,” said Swampwater.

“Gross,” said Violet.

“Hey, look! A
white
alligator,” said Jessie.

They all turned to peer at a small stuffed alligator on the top shelf of a display case. It was a little over a foot long.

“Albino,” said Swampwater. “Born without pigment. They don’t live long in the wild. About eighty percent of all baby alligators turn into something else’s dinner before they grow big enough to be safe. For an albino alligator, it’s about one hundred percent that die very small, very young. I’m surprised this one lived as long as it did.”

“Is anybody here?” demanded someone loudly from the office.

“In the museum,” Swampwater called. “I’m coming.”

He went back into the tour office. Jessie, Violet, and Henry followed. A group of people stood there, looking hopeful. “Is this the right place for a swamp tour?” a red-cheeked woman asked.

“It surely is,” said Swampwater.

“Is the ghost on the tour? The one we heard about at the diner in town?” the man with her asked.

“Well, I can tell you about all kinds of ghosts,” said Swampwater. “Step right this way to buy your ticket.” Swampwater winked at the three Aldens.

“You should see the museum, too. It’s great,” said Jessie.

“Thank you for showing it to us,” Violet said to Swampwater.

“Anytime, anytime,” said Swampwater, as they left.

“A white alligator,” said Jessie. “Like a ghost.”

“Except no one’s going to think a little tiny alligator like that is a big, people-eating ghost alligator,” said Henry.

“And Swampwater says they never grow up. It’s very sad,” Violet said.

“It seems as if Swampwater might like the idea of a ghost alligator after all, though,” said Jessie. “He’s reading a book about it. And telling the tourists about it, too.”

“It did seem that way,” Henry agreed. “It seemed like it might be good for his tour business, unlike Billie’s fishing camp.”

“Do you think Swampwater could be the one behind it all?” asked Violet.

“I don’t know,” said Jessie. “But I think we do have to consider him a suspect.”

“That wouldn’t make Gaston very happy, if lots of tourists came to see the ghost instead of being scared away by it,” observed Violet.

Henry shook his head. “The more we know, the more mysterious this mystery gets.”

“I know another suspect. What about Beau?” said Jessie suddenly. “Remember, Billie said he’d been acting awfully mysterious lately.”

“And he thinks the camp is too much for Billie,” said Violet.

“Maybe he and Travis are working together,” said Jessie. “Maybe …” She stopped short. “Look,” she whispered, pointing.

They’d almost reached Billie’s camp. And there ahead of them, as if their talking about him had made him appear, stood Beau.

He wasn’t alone. He was talking to someone.

“It’s Travis,” breathed Violet.

Quickly they slipped behind one of the big old trees at the edge of the road. Quietly they moved closer, keeping a sharp eye out for snakes.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Beau. “It’s a good price, it’s true.”

“A better offer than anyone else will make you,” Travis said. “And your grandmother will get used to it, trust me. After a while, she’ll hardly even miss it.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Beau said.

“You’ve been thinking about it,” Travis said impatiently. “Do we have a deal or don’t we?”

BOOK: The Mystery of the Alligator Swamp
12.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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