“Then what say ye about these ropes we found,” said Mr. Hugo, “cut clean?”

“Are they not the ropes that bound the old fellow?”

“Aye, they are.”

“Then we don’t say nothing.”

The ropes were cut? They couldn’t find the body? Then maybe Pop wasn’t dead. Maybe he somehow broke free, and he was hiding somewhere in the swamp. I bet he was already making his way back upriver to check on me. I bet he was already scrambling to send word to me that he was good and alive. Or maybe he was sitting pretty somewhere, planning his revenge, plotting his payback to Mr. Hugo and Cecily Bob and even Boss Authority himself.

Pop wasn’t dead, not a chance, no sirree. Pop was just getting started. I was so happy I could have danced. I could have fallen to my knees and shouted hallelujahs all day.

I had to get back to the skiff and tell Tally. I kicked soft and quiet as I could through the swamp water and muck, hoping there weren’t any snakes slithering, hoping no weird fanged fishes darted underneath me, hoping I wouldn’t stub my toe on a snappy turtle or kick a catfish spine by accident. I’d seen those suckers stick a man and the wound gets all swoll up and purple and you’re useless for a durn week. That would be just my luck, wouldn’t it? Find out Pop ain’t dead and first thing I do is get skewered by a catfish.

But I made it safe and sound back to the skiff and I climbed back up in it and Tally untied the rope.

“Pop escaped!” I said.

“Shhh!” said Tally. “We’re not quite far enough away yet. They’ll hear you.”

“Sorry,” I whispered. “But Pop flew the coop! They think he drowned, but I doubt it. I bet he’s somewhere out here in this swamp now, plotting his revenge. Yes sir, I bet my daddy right now is planning how to pay Boss Authority back for what he’s done. I bet he’s watching you and me right now, trying to figure out the best time to hop out and save us, to bring us right where he is. Yessirree, I tell you, my pop ain’t worried about a thing.”

“Keep it down or we won’t be getting anywhere except dead,” she whispered. “And I’m about durn sick of rowing. You seem healthy now, and I’m ready for a rest.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, and reached for the oars. But then I felt something weird under my shirt. I looked under the collar, and there they were: three thumb-sized leeches latched onto my skin, sucking my blood, hanging on for dear life.

That did it. I screamed like a baby.

I heard a holler back from Mr. Hugo and Cecily Bob’s camp. My yelp had got their attention, and that’s a fact. I could see skinny Cecily Bob holding a lantern high, scanning the swamp for us, Cecily Bob’s and Mr. Hugo’s faces turned my way. They’d seen me, there was no question about that.