The Preposterous Adventures of Swimmer (4 page)

Her small, quick hands were as gentle as could be, and in less than a minute she had the leg firmly and comfortably encased in a tube of bark. Not once did she really hurt him, even while straightening the leg in the splint or tying it securely afterward. But Swimmer could not resist an occasional agonized groan just to get her sympathy.

“You're a living doll,” he murmured, conscious of Scruff's jealousy as she fussed over him and more than ever aware of what a skinny little mistreated thing she was. Miss Primm back at the lab would have been shocked at the sight of her bruised face, and thoroughly scandalized by the ragtag dress and the woebegone scrap of ribbon that held back her red hair. Swimmer's heart went out to her.

After catching the thought from Scruff, he said, “Scruff wants you to know that if he ever finds Weaver out in the woods, he'll chew him apart.”

“No!” Penny cried instantly. “Don't you dare! Scruff, that would be the end of everything. If Weaver didn't shoot at you, somebody else would. You know how they feel about wild dogs around here.” She paused and began shaking her finger at both of them for emphasis. “Don't either of you ever, ever, go near the place up there. If you're seen, they'll shoot you on sight. And, Swimmer, they hate otters like poison. So stay away from the trout ponds, and don't even go wading in that little branch that drains them.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“It's full of traps.”

“Traps!”

“Yes. Those horrible steel things with jaws. Most of the branch is on this side of the fence, on government land, but that doesn't make any difference. Not to an old meanie like Grady Sykes. You'd think he owned everything in the forest preserve. Anyway, I always spring every trap I can find, and I'd throw it away if I could. Only, he makes sure every trap is chained to something. Usually to a metal stake, and they're terribly hard to pull out of the ground.”

She paused and added in a low voice, “Mr. Sykes caught me trying to pull one loose last fall, and gave me an awful licking. I—I almost ran away.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I didn't have any place to go. And besides, I hated to leave my friends. Scruff and Ripple and Willow are the best in the world. They're on the move a lot, but they spend most of their time here. A person
has
to have friends. So I decided I'd just tough it out a while and maybe something good would happen.” All at once she smiled happily and clapped her hands. “And it did! You came along. Now, I've got a friend who can really talk to me and help me understand the others. I think it's wonderful.”

Swimmer did too. He grasped her hand and practically purred.

Penny said, “I'll call the others in a minute, but first let's see what I can do about your bell and harness.”

She took the pliers from the sack and began working at one of the heavy links on his shoulder. Her mouth tightened as she began to pull and twist.

“I—I can't do a thing with one pair of pliers,” she admitted finally. “I'll have to get a second pair to hold the chain, or else use a hacksaw. But maybe, if I help, you can sort of wiggle out of it.”

They tried. Swimmer squirmed and twisted and did his utmost to get one leg through the harness. It was impossible.

“Don't worry,” Penny assured him. “I'll get it off tomorrow, somehow. Tomorrow's Sunday, so there's no telling when I can slip away, but I'll come just as soon as I can. Now, let's see if I can find Ripple and Willow.”

She crept down to the water's edge, found a small round stone, and began tapping it sharply on the side of a half submerged boulder. She would tap three times, wait a few seconds, and tap three times again. In spite of the rushing water the sound could be heard for a long distance.

Presently, when there was no response to her signal, she climbed back beside him. “They must be downstream,” she said. “Let's go down past the bend to the old beech tree. I think they've got a secret den under the tree where they sleep, but I'm not sure. Anyway, they're bound to be near there.” Then she glanced at his bark-encircled leg and exclaimed, “Oh, my goodness! Maybe you don't feel like going anywhere.”

To tell the truth, Swimmer didn't. It was the hour when broken bones always begin to ache and weary bodies long for rest. But these matters became as nothing beside the electrifying thought of actually meeting some of his own kind again. Swimmer trembled with sudden anticipation.

“Let's go,” he said eagerly.

It would have been much easier for him to swim the distance, but he wouldn't have had the fun of being with her and talking. So he went limping painfully along at her side while Scruff trotted ahead, a guard ever on the alert for danger.

It took only a few minutes to reach the mouth of the branch that drained the pools at the trout farm. After they had crossed it on stepping-stones, Swimmer paused and studied it almost longingly, for it reminded him of the pleasant waters he had played in as a pup. The branch came down through the rocky tangle in a series of enticing little falls that begged to be explored.

“Wow!” Swimmer exclaimed. “What a place for crawfish!”

“And
traps,
” Penny reminded him tartly. “Weaver's pa, he's as sly as anything about setting a trap. You can't see it, and he hides it right where you'd put your foot. You'll never get Willow in there again.”

“Why not?”

“I—I'd rather not talk about it.” She swallowed and turned away. “We'd better hurry. It's getting late.”

But the tragic picture that had come to Penny's mind was entirely too vivid for Swimmer to miss. It was a bitter winter scene with an otter frozen in the ice of a small pool, one foot caught in a trap. Another otter crouched near it, crying.

Swimmer could not help asking, “Was it Willow's mate you found?”

She gasped and stared at him, then nodded slowly.

“It was last winter,” she told him. “If it hadn't snowed and turned so mean and cold afterward, maybe I could have found him in time to save him. But it dropped 'way below zero, and I couldn't come down here and see how everybody was 'cause I didn't have boots and a coat. But, please, let's don't talk about it.”

For a while they moved along in silence. Then Swimmer asked curiously, “Has Ripple got a brother?”

“Why, yes! How did you guess?”

“On the way here yesterday I was following an old trail made by others of my kind. Two of them must have been Willow and Ripple. But I was sure there was a third.”

“Oh, that was Splasher. He's a perfect rascal! You'd never guess what he did. When he came back last week he didn't pay a bit of attention to my warning. Instead, he slipped up to the house, gave his little bark to let me know who he was, then dashed to the trout ponds and tore through them like crazy. Why, he scared those poor fish out of their ever-loving minds—they were jumping all over the place! Of course, he did it just to devil Mr. Sykes. And I never saw Mr. Sykes so hopping mad. He yelled for Tattle and grabbed his shotgun and started blasting away at where the trout were jumping—and all he did was to kill a bucketful of his own fish. And Splasher got clean away.”

She giggled and added, “It was awfully foolish of him to take such a chance, and, of course, I bawled him out afterward. But I know how he felt. The funny thing is that Mr. Sykes thinks the otters are stealing him blind, but they're not. Golly, Splasher wouldn't even touch a trout if he could find enough crawfish. Would you?”

“I'm all for crawfish,” Swimmer affirmed. “But it's precious few I've had in recent years. Where's Splasher now?”

“Down the creek somewhere. I haven't seen him since Monday, so I think he's gone to hunt for a mate.” She stopped. “Here's the beech.”

Swimmer peered up with awe and deep respect at the great trunk spreading its branches over a wide stretch of the creek. It wasn't the biggest tree he had ever seen, but it was certainly the oldest. He could feel its age as its sheltering leaves whispered a welcome to him, telling of the countless feathered ones who had nested under that arching roof, and of the generations of his own kind who had taken refuge in its secret hollows. One glance at the beckoning tangle of roots dipping down into the water and he could almost see the hiding places under the huge trunk.

Penny scrambled down to the water's edge and began tapping on a rock. At the first signal two sleek dark heads periscoped at the far end of the pool then streaked toward her, barking and chirruping happily. As they reached the bank she leaned forward, laughing, and touched noses with each of them.

“Willow, Ripple,” she began. “I've brought a new friend to meet you. His name is Swimmer. He's been a prisoner a long time, but he's just escaped and he's got a broken leg. Please be nice to him, 'cause he really needs help.”

Willow and her daughter came up the bank, eyes bright and curious while they briefly touched noses with him. Swimmer, momentarily forgetting his aches, burbled with happiness. It was pure heaven to be with his own kind again, even though one was a plump matron years older than himself, and the other a skinny teen-ager.

Little questioning thoughts flowed swiftly between them. Slender Ripple, more impulsive than her mother, became fascinated by Swimmer's bell, and gave a delighted laugh, which was almost like Penny's, when it rang to her touch.

“You wouldn't like it if you had to wear one of the dratted things,” he told Ripple aloud.

Willow and Ripple looked at him in astonishment.

You speak as she speaks!
came the awed thought from Ripple.
How did you learn?

From being so long around humans
.

Do you think I could learn?
Ripple asked.

Why would you want to?

So I could talk to her. We understand her, but she does not understand us. It would be so much more fun if she could
.

Penny took the two small trout from the bag, and Willow and Ripple accepted them with little sounds of pleasure that were more affected than real, as he quickly learned. They preferred wild trout to tame ones, which had no flavor.
But don't tell her
, they warned.
We wouldn't think of hurting her feelings
.

Swimmer hadn't had a real wild trout for so long that he had almost forgotten the difference. He watched them stand up and neatly clip the tails and fins before beginning to eat. But they had hardly taken the first delicate bites when Scruff, who had been resting quietly under the tree, suddenly sprang to his feet with a low growl.

“Someone's coming!” Penny whispered. “Quick, everybody hide!”

4

He Learns His Value

A
t the first hint of danger, even before Penny spoke, Willow and Ripple had turned and slipped quietly into the water, hardly disturbing its surface. Swimmer followed clumsily and was barely in time to glimpse them vanishing in the blackness under the great tree's roots. Seconds later he emerged in a dim and curiously curved chamber with a thin ray of light coming from somewhere above. The beech tree was partially hollow. The hollow area seemed to extend upward to a hole high in the trunk.

Swimmer crawled out and crouched in a dry corner opposite Willow and Ripple. In his sudden uneasiness he tried to read the thoughts of those outside, but all he learned was that Scruff had caught the scent of an approaching human, a stranger.

Don't be afraid
, Willow offered comfortingly.
It is probably only a fisherman
.

It's not a fisherman
, he told her.
The person coming has something to do with me. I feel it
.

He glanced up at the hole where the light came through, and realized all at once that he ought to be able to reach it with very little trouble. The tree leaned sharply in the direction of the hole, and there were plenty of places to cling to along the way.

It took only a few painful seconds to make the climb, and when he peered through the opening he discovered that he was not in the main part of the tree at all, but in a huge limb that curved away from it. Penny and Scruff were almost directly below.

Suddenly Scruff took a few steps forward and growled again. Penny caught him around the neck and clung to him. “Please, Scruff!” she ordered. “You've got to be good.” Then to someone in the distance, “It's all right, mister. I won't let him hurt you.”

“Lordy me, I hope not,” replied the unseen one. “Tell you what. If he won't bite me, I'll cross my heart and solemnly promise not to bite him. Is it a deal?”

“It's a deal,” Penny giggled.

At the first sound of that familiar voice, Swimmer almost slipped from his perch. It just couldn't be—but it was. He pressed his face closer to the hole and presently saw a barely recognizable Clarence come into view. The dapper city-Clarence had turned into an outdoorsman in paratrooper's boots and khakis, with a sleeping bag over one shoulder and a knapsack over the other. The black man seemed tired, for he leaned heavily on a hiking staff cut from a sapling.

“I'm Clarence Green,” he began. “What's your name, young lady?”

“Penny,” she told him. “Penny Jones. I mean, that's what Welfare calls me. I haven't a real name.”

“It's real enough for me. I like it. That sure is some dog you've got there. But he ought to have a collar on him.”

“Scruff's wild. He wouldn't stand for a collar.”

“You mean really wild?” Clarence backed away.

“He sure is. I'm his only friend. But don't be afraid, 'cause he won't bother my friends.”

Clarence chuckled. “Believe me, I'll be careful to stay on the right side of you! Er, have you many wild friends?”

“Lots of 'em. Well, four or five, anyway.”

“H'mm. Would any of them be otters?”

Penny gaped at him. “How—how'd you guess?”