  Sara Ottman and her brother glanced up from their work as Penny approached the dock. Burt was a tall young man of twenty-six, brown of face, with muscles hardened by heavy, outdoor work. He nodded to Penny, but his expression did not disclose whether or not he bore resentment. “Anything we can do for you?” he asked, his manner impersonal. “No, I just happened to be over this way and thought I’d stop for a minute. What’s this strange contraption?” Penny indicated the queer looking metal hood. “A diving apparatus Burt made,” Sara explained briefly. “We’re using it to get Bill Evans’ motor out of the river.” “How does it work?” “Watch and see,” invited Sara. “Burt’s going to make the first dive.” Though Penny felt that she was none too welcome at the dock, she nevertheless decided to remain. Burt disappeared into the shed, reappearing a minute later in bathing trunks. He and Sara loaded the diving hood into a boat and rowed to the nearby area which had been marked with a can buoy. Burt adjusted the metal helmet over his head and lowered himself into the water. Once her brother was beneath the surface, Sara worked tirelessly at the pump, feeding him air. Soon Bill Evans drifted by in another boat, watching the salvage operation like a worried mother. “Think you’ll get ’er?” he asked Sara. “Doggone if I know how an engine could be so hard to find.” Sara did not bother to answer, but kept pumping steadily. After many minutes, the metal hood appeared on the surface. Burt Ottman lifted it from his head and took a deep breath. “Any luck?” Bill asked anxiously. “I’ll have the engine up in a little bit,” Burt replied. Breasting himself into the boat, he pulled on a rope tied around his waist. With Sara helping, he gradually hauled the lost motor from its muddy bed. “Oh, say, that’s swell!” Bill cried jubilantly. “How can I thank you?” “Don’t forget the five dollars,” Sara reminded him. “Burt and I can use it.” “Oh, sure,” Bill replied, though the light faded from his eyes. “I haven’t got it on me right now. Can you wait a few days?” “Waiting is the best thing we do,” Sara assured him. “Better get this mess of junk cleaned and oiled up right away or it won’t be worth a dime.” “I will,” promised Bill. “Just dump ’er on the dock for me, will you?” Sara and her brother delivered the motor to the designated place, and then rowed to their own platform where Penny waited. From the look of their faces it was evident that they never expected to be paid for their work. Alighting from the boat, Sara noticed one of Old Noah’s floating bottles which had snagged against the edge of the platform. Rather irritably she fished it from the water. Without bothering to read the message inside, she hurled it high on the shore. “Sara, you’re in an ugly mood today,” her brother observed, smiling. “I get tired of seeing those bottles!” she replied. “I get tired of doing so much charity work too! How are we to meet our expenses, pay for a lawyer, and—” “Never mind,” Burt interrupted quietly. Sara subsided into silence. They moored the boat and Burt, carrying the diving bell with him, went into the shed. “Guess you think I’m a regular old crab,” Sara remarked, turning toward Penny. “Oh, I don’t know,” Penny answered. “I’m sure you have plenty to worry you.” “I do! Since the papers published the bridge dynamiting story, our business has shrunk to almost nothing. Burt’s case is coming up for trial in about ten days. I don’t know how we’ll pay the lawyer. If Mr. DeWitt hadn’t put up bail, my brother still would be in jail.” “Oh, you shouldn’t feel so discouraged,” Penny said cheerfully. “Burt will be cleared.” “I wish I could think so. He’s innocent, but to prove it is another matter.” “Can’t your brother provide an alibi? Where was he at the time of the dynamiting?” “I don’t know,” Sara admitted, frowning. “Burt’s peculiar. I tried to talk things over with him, but he says it’s a disagreeable subject. He hasn’t told me where he was Friday night.” Burt’s appearance in the doorway of the shed brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Before Penny could speak to him, a group of small boys ran along the bank some distance away. “Saboteur! Saboteur!” they shouted jeeringly, pointing at Burt. One of the lads threw a clod of dirt which struck a moored rowboat. “You see how it is!” Sara cried wrathfully. “Don’t take things so seriously,” Burt advised, though his own eyes burned with an angry light. “They’re only youngsters.” “I can’t stand much more,” Sara cried, running into the shed, and closing the door. Burt busied himself cleaning the clod of dirt from the rowboat. “Don’t mind Sara,” he said. “She’s always inclined to be high strung.” “I’m sorry about everything,” said Penny quietly. “Mr. DeWitt believes you will be cleared.” Burt straightened, staring at the far shore. “Wish I felt the same way. Unless the real saboteur is caught, the police intend to tag me with the job.” “They can’t convict you without evidence. Oh, by the way, did you ever lose a leather billfold?” The question surprised Burt. He hesitated before he answered: “What made you ask me that?” “I found an old one along the river. No money or any identification in it. Just a card which said: ‘The Green Parrot. Tuesday at 9:15.’” “The Green Parrot!” “You’ve heard of the place?” “Oh, I’ve heard of it,” Burt answered carelessly. “That’s all. I never was there. Sorry I can’t claim the billfold.” As if uneasy lest he be questioned further, the young man picked up a coil of rope and walked away. Penny waited a moment and then left the dock. “I’m just a nuisance around there,” she thought unhappily. “I’d like to help, but Sara and Burt won’t let me.” The following two days passed without event so far as Penny was concerned. There were no developments regarding the bridge dynamiting case and the story was relegated to an inside page of the Star. However, recalling her promise to Carl Oaks, she did speak to her father about finding him a new job. “What does that fellow expect?” Mr. Parker rumbled irritably. “Jerry tells me he’s a ne’er-do-well. Why doesn’t he like his job as watchman on the coal barge?” “Well, it’s too dirty.” “Carl Oaks is lucky to get any job in this town,” Mr. Parker answered. “Jerry had a hard time inducing anyone to take him on. Along the waterfront he has a reputation for shiftlessness.” “In that case, just forget it, Dad. I don’t like the man too well myself.” Penny promptly forgot about Carl Oaks, but many times she caught herself wondering what had happened to Old Noah and his ark. Since she and Louise had visited the place, it had rained every day. The water was slowly rising in the river and there was talk that a serious flood might result. On Tuesday night, as Penny and Louise paid their weekly visit to the Rialto Theatre, it was still raining. The gutters were deep with water and to cross the street it was necessary to walk stiffly on their heels. “We’ve had enough H2O for one week,” Penny declared, gazing at her splashed stockings. “Well, for screaming out loud!” A green taxicab, turning in the street to pick up a fare, shot a fountain of muddy water from its spinning wheels. Penny, who stood close to the curb, was sprayed from head to foot. “Just look at me!” she wailed. “That driver ought to be sent to prison for life!” The taxi drew up in front of the Rialto Theatre. A well-dressed man in brown overcoat and felt hat who waited at the curb, opened the cab door. “To the Green Parrot,” he ordered the driver. “Where’s that, sir?” The passenger mumbled an address the girls could not understand. He then slammed shut the cab door and the vehicle drove away. “Lou, did you hear what I heard?” Penny cried excitedly. “I certainly did!” Penny glanced quickly about. Seeing another taxicab across the street, she hailed it. “Come on, Louise,” she urged, tugging at her chum’s hand. Louise held back. “What do you intend to do?” “Why, we’re going to follow that taxi!” Penny splashed through the flooded gutter toward the waiting cab. “This is a real break for us! With luck we’ll learn the location of The Green Parrot!” |
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