  Carl Oaks saw the girls approaching, and recognized them with a curt nod of his head. He responded to their cheerful greeting, but with no warmth. “I was hoping to see you, Mr. Oaks,” Penny began the conversation. “Last night Louise and I had no opportunity to express our appreciation for the way you helped us.” “Well, I didn’t help myself any,” the old watchman broke in. “It was sure bad luck for me when your sailboat came floatin’ down the river. Now I’ve lost my job.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear it.” “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Mr. Oaks resumed in a whining tone. “I’ve never been strong and I can’t do hard work.” “Perhaps you can find another job as a watchman.” “No one will take me on after what happened last night.” “But it wasn’t your fault the bridge was dynamited.” “Folks always are ready to push a man down if they get the chance,” Mr. Oaks said bitterly. “No, I’m finished in this seedy town! I’d pull out if I had the price of a ticket.” Penny was decidedly troubled. “You mustn’t take that attitude, Mr. Oaks,” she replied. “Maybe I can help you.” The watchman looked interested, but amused. “How can you help me?” he demanded. “My father owns the Riverview Star. Perhaps he can use an extra watchman at the newspaper building. If not, he may know someone who will employ you.” “I’ve always worked around the waterfront,” Mr. Oaks returned, brightening a bit. “You know I ain’t able to do much walkin’ or any heavy lifting. Maybe your father can get me another job on a bridge.” “Well, I don’t know,” Penny responded. “I’ll talk to him. Just give me your address so I can notify you later.” Mr. Oaks scribbled a few lines on the back of an old envelope and handed it to her. He did not express appreciation for the offer Penny had made, accepting it as his just due. “I suppose the police questioned you about the bridge dynamiting,” she remarked, pocketing the address. “Sure, they gave me the works,” he acknowledged, shrugging. “Kept me at the station half the night. Then this morning they had me identify one of the suspects.” “Not Burt Ottman?” “Yeah.” “You didn’t identify him as the saboteur?” Penny inquired in dismay. “I told the police he looked like the fellow. And he did.” “But how could you see his face?” Penny protested. “The motorboat traveled so fast! Even when the man crawled out of the water and ran, one could only tell that he was tall and thin.” “He looked like young Ottman to me,” the watchman insisted stubbornly. “Well, guess I’ll shove on. You talk to your father and let me know about that job. I can use ’er.” Without giving the girls a chance to ask another question, Mr. Oaks moved off down the street. “Now if things aren’t in a nice mess,” Penny remarked as she and Louise retraced their way to the bus stop. “No wonder the police held Burt Ottman! I don’t see how Mr. Oaks could have thought he resembled the saboteur.” “I’m sure I didn’t get a good look at the fellow,” Louise returned. “Mr. Oaks must have wonderful eyes, to say the least.” After a ten minute wait, a bus came along, and the girls rode to their separate homes. Penny ate luncheon, helped Mrs. Weems with the dishes and then slipped away to her father’s newspaper office. An early afternoon edition of the Star had just rolled from the press. Entering the editorial room, Penny noted that it appeared to have been swept by a whirlwind. Discarded copy lay on the floor, and there were more wads of paper around the scrap baskets than in them. Jerry Livingston’s battered typewriter served as a comfortable foot rest for his unpolished shoes. Seeing Penny, he removed them to the floor, and grinned at her. “Hello, Miss Pop-Eye!” he said affectionately. “How’s our little sailor?” “Never mind,” returned Penny. “What’s this I hear about Burt Ottman being arrested by the police?” “That’s how it is.” The grin faded from the reporter’s face. “Tough on DeWitt too.” “DeWitt?” Penny inquired. She could not guess what connection the editor might have with the dynamiting case. Jerry glanced about the news room to make certain that DeWitt was not within hearing. In a low tone he confided: “Didn’t you know? Burt Ottman is DeWitt’s first cousin. It rather puts him in a spot, being kin to a saboteur.” “Nothing has been proved against Ottman yet.” “All the same, it looks bad for the kid. When the story came in it gave DeWitt a nasty jolt.” “I should think so,” nodded Penny. “Why, I never dreamed that he was related to the Ottmans.” “Neither did anyone else in the office. But you have to hand it to DeWitt. He took it squarely between the eyes. Didn’t even play the story down nor ask your father to soft pedal it.” “Mr. DeWitt is a real newspaper man.” “Bet your life!” Jerry agreed with emphasis. “He’s gone young Ottman’s bail to the tune of ten thousand dollars.” “Why, that must represent a good portion of his life time savings.” “Sure, but DeWitt says the kid has been framed, and he’s going to stand by him.” “I think myself that Burt Ottman was too far away to be properly identified. I mean to tell the police so, too.” “Well, we all hope for DeWitt’s sake that it is a mistake,” Jerry said soberly. “But the evidence is stacking up fast. The motorboat came from Ottman’s. Carl Oaks said he recognized the saboteur as young Ottman. Then this morning police found a handkerchief with an initial ‘O’ lying along the shore not far from where the fellow crawled out of the water.” “Circumstantial evidence.” “Maybe so,” Jerry agreed with a shrug, “but unless young Ottman gets a good lawyer, he’s likely to find himself doing a long stretch.” Deeply troubled by the information, Penny went on toward her father’s private office. As she passed the main copy desk where Editor DeWitt worked, she noticed that his face was white and tense. Although he usually had a smile for her, he barely glanced up and did not speak. Penny tapped twice and entered her father’s office. Mr. Parker had just finished dictating a letter to his secretary who quietly gathered up her notebook and departed. The newspaper owner pretended to glance at the calendar on his desk. “Unless I’m all muddled, this is Saturday, not Thursday,” he greeted his daughter teasingly. “Aren’t you a bit mixed up?” “Maybe so,” Penny admitted, seating herself on a corner of the desk. “You seldom honor me with a call except to collect your Thursday allowance.” “Oh, I’m not concerned with money these days,” Penny said, trying to balance a paper weight on her father’s head. “It’s this dynamiting case that has me all tied in a knot.” “Stop it, Penny!” Irritably, Mr. Parker squirmed in his chair. “This is an office, not a child’s play room!” “Try to give me your undivided attention, Dad. I want you to do me a favor.” “How about granting me one first? Please stop playing with the gadgets on my desk!” “Why, of course,” grinned Penny, backing away. “Now about this job for Carl Oaks—” “Job?” “Yes, he was relieved of duty at the Thompson bridge, you know. It was partly my fault. So I want you to square matters by finding other work for him.” “Penny, I am not an employment agency! Anyway, what do I know about the man?” “I owe him a job, Dad. He says he likes to work around the waterfront. Can’t you get him something to do? Oh, yes, it has to be an easy job because he can’t walk and he can’t lift anything.” “How about a nice pension?” Mr. Parker demanded. He sighed and added, “Well, I’ll see what I can do for him. Now run along, because I have work to get out.” Feeling certain that her father would find a suitable position for the old watchman, Penny went directly from the newspaper office to Louise Sidell’s home. After relating all the latest news, she asked her chum if she would not enjoy another excursion to the river. “But we were just there a few hours ago!” Louise protested. “I’ve had enough sailing for one day.” “Oh, I don’t care to sail either,” Penny corrected hastily. “I thought it might be interesting to call on Old Noah.” “That queer old man who has the ark?” “What do you say?” “Oh, all right,” Louise agreed, rather intrigued by the prospect. “But if we get into trouble, just remember it was your idea.” By bus the girls rode to a point near the river. Without approaching Ottman’s Dock, they crossed the Big Bear over Thompson’s bridge which had just been opened to pedestrian traffic only. Making their way along the eastern shore, they came at last to the mouth of Bug Run. “It looks like rain to me,” Louise declared, scanning the fast-moving clouds. “Just our luck to be caught in a downpour.” “Maybe we can take refuge in the ark,” Penny laughed, leading the way up the meandering stream. “That is, if we can find it.” Trees and bushes grew thick and green along either bank of the run. Several times the girls were forced to muddy their shoes in order to proceed. In one shady glade, a bullfrog blinked at them before making a hasty dive into the lilypads. There was no sign of a boat or any structure remotely resembling an ark. And then, rounding a bend, they suddenly saw it silhouetted against a darkening sky. “Why, it looks just as if it had rolled out of The Old Testament!” Louise cried in astonishment. The ark, painted red and blue, rose three stories from the muddy water. A large, circular window had been built in the uppermost part, and there were tiny, square openings beneath. From within could be heard a strange medley of animal sounds—the cackling of hens, the squeal of a pig, the squawking of a saucy parrot who kept calling: “Noah! Oh, Noah!” Louise gripped Penny’s hand. “Let’s not go any nearer,” she said uneasily. “It’s starting to rain, and we ought to make a double dash for home.” A few drops of rain splashed into the stream. Dropping on the tin roof of the ark like tiny pellets of metal, they made a loud drumming sound. The disturbed hens began to cluck on their roosts. The parrot screeched loudly, “Oh, Noah! Come Noah!” “Where is Noah?” Penny asked with a nervous giggle. “I certainly must see him before we leave.” As if in answer to her question, they heard a strange series of sounds from deep within the woods. A cow mooed, and a man spoke soothing words. Soon there emerged from among the trees a bewildering assortment of animals and fowl—a cow, a goat, a pig, and two fat turkeys. An old man with a long white beard which fell to his chest, drove the creatures toward the gangplank of the ark. “Get along, Bessie,” he urged the cow, tapping her with his crooked stick. “The Lord maketh the rain to fall for forty days and forty nights, but you shall be saved. Into the ark!” Penny fairly hugged herself with delight. “Oh, Louise, we can’t go now,” she whispered. “That must be Old Noah. And isn’t he a darling?” |
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