The next morning, Grandpa and Uncle Owen were headed over to Hamp’s to bring back his piglet and to organize a couple search parties. Uncle Lone was supposed to go with them, but they didn’t know where he was, and they couldn’t wait anymore, so they were getting ready to leave without him.
As they got into Grandpa’s boat, I asked one more time, “Why can’t I go with ya? I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Elsie, yer grandma’s right,” Grandpa said. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know what these bandits might do.”
Uncle Owen sat in the middle seat holding Hamp’s piglet. He gave me a sympathetic look, but I knew he couldn’t give me permission if Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want me to go.
I knew Henry didn’t care about going along, but I wanted to go more than anything. The thing was, I didn’t just want to go, I needed to go. Staying back on Honey Island while they went and captured those hog bandits was never going to make me the kind of hero I really wanted to be or get my picture in the newspaper.
Grandpa headed the boat up the waterway toward Minnies Island where Hamp lived. And as I watched the boat move away from the shore, Grandpa turned back toward me.
I hoped maybe he was going to change his mind, but instead he said, “And you and Henry don’t go any farther than Billys Lake t’day. And stay away from Hollow Log Pond!”
I sighed. How would I have any chance of finding the bandits if I couldn’t go out searching for them?
I headed up the trail to see where Henry and Huck were. As I got closer to the house, I could hear Henry practicing his preaching.
“And by his faith he was healed!” Henry exclaimed.
Once I made my way to the front gate, I saw Henry on the porch standing at the railing. Because of us ripping that page out of Grandma’s Bible, Henry hadn’t had the courage to borrow it again. But not being able to use the Bible hadn’t stopped Henry from continuing to preach. He already knew a lot of scripture by heart, so he just practiced the same passages over and over.
Thankfully, Grandma hadn’t noticed the torn page yet. With Henry quoting scripture and preaching and praying all the time, she didn’t really need to read her Bible, so it would likely be a long time before she discovered the damage we’d done.
Before I got all the way up to the porch, I saw Uncle Lone coming around from the back of the house.
“What’s with ’im?” Uncle Lone asked, nodding toward Henry standing at the porch railing.
“The Lord bless you and keep you…”
“He’s jus’ practicing, ya know, to be a preacher like his daddy.”
“Yeah, his daddy’s a real preacher all right,” Uncle Lone said sarcastically. “And I’m a Sunday school teacher.”
How did Uncle Lone stay so ornery all the time? Grandpa and Uncle Owen were probably glad he’d been late this morning, so they could leave without him.
“Grandpa and Uncle Owen jus’ left fer Hamp’s,” I said. “They waited on ya as long as they could, but finally said they had to jus’ go without ya.”
“I ain’t goin’ over to Hamp’s,” Uncle Lone said, sounding annoyed. “All’s I need is a search party of one.”
I didn’t know how Uncle Lone was so sure he would be the one to find the hog bandits, but I guess it was the same as me thinking maybe I could be the one to find them.
“I wanted to go with ’em,” I said. “But they wouldn’t let me.”
“Ya got more trouble than hog bandits,” Uncle Lone said.
“What do ya mean?” I asked.
“That dog of yers is out back pullin’ laundry off the line,” Uncle Lone said.
“Again?” I said, heading around the side of the house.
“Tol’ ya that dog would be nothin’ but trouble,” Uncle Lone called after me, laughing.
When I got to the back of the house there were clothes scattered everywhere—two of Grandma’s dresses covered the row of watermelons in the garden, one of Grandpa’s shirts hung from the chicken yard fence, and another one lay draped over the hog pen gate. Huck lay in the shade with a pair of Grandpa’s overalls in his mouth.
“What are ya tryin’ t’do, Huck?” I hissed as I walked over and pried the overalls out of his mouth, hoping for two things—that there weren’t any teeth marks on them and that Huck’s slobbery drool wouldn’t leave a stain.
I looked around the yard and wondered how Grandma hadn’t seen this yet. Yesterday I’d been a hero, and today I’d be getting scolded worse than Uncle Lone. I hurried to collect the clothes and get them back up on the clothesline, hoping that by some miracle I’d be able to finish before Grandma saw the mess.
When I looked at the clothesline after I was finished, I thought about asking Henry to say a little prayer that Grandma wouldn’t notice how crooked the clothes were. It was easy to see by looking at them that Grandma hadn’t hung them. She was sure to figure out what had happened.
“C’mon, Huck,” I said, calling him to follow me. “Let’s git outta here while we can. Maybe if we’re not ’round when Grandma comes outside to take in the laundry, we won’t catch it fer messin’ with her clean clothes.”
Huck and I headed past Grandma’s garden toward the side of the house, and that’s when I saw one more thing lying on the ground, a rag. I must’ve missed something. But when I got closer, I realized it couldn’t have been part of Grandma’s laundry because it was still dirty. It was the kind of rag Grandpa, Uncle Lone, and Uncle Owen kept in their pockets every day to wipe off their hands after washing them or to dab the sweat off their forehead while they worked.
Huck sniffed at the rag, and then he started doing his crazy dance, sniffing the ground like he was following an invisible line. He sniffed and walked, sniffed and walked, sniffed and walked. I picked up the dirty rag and followed him. He meandered around the side of the house and out to the front where Henry was still practicing.
“And the Lord’s mercy will be our constant hope!”
Uncle Lone sat in the rocking chair on the porch right behind Henry.
“And yer preachin’ will be our constant annoyance,” Uncle Lone mumbled.
“Lone Marshall! If ya don’t stop that teasin’ talk, and I have to come out there,” Grandma’s voice yelled from the kitchen, “yer gonna be sorry!”
Henry ignored Uncle Lone’s teasing and Grandma’s scolding and began to sing, “‘Bind us together, Lord, bind us together with cords that cannot be broken…’”
As Henry sang, I kept watching Huck wind his way around the yard in front of the house, and I had a feeling I knew where he’d end up. I had a feeling that any minute, Huck and Uncle Lone would be bound together in a way that would mean something altogether different than the song.
Huck sniffed harder. Huck walked faster. He headed for the porch steps. Then he barreled up both steps. He leaped up onto Uncle Lone. The rocking chair tipped sideways. It landed on the porch with a crash. Uncle Lone went with it.
“What in tarnation is this dog doin’!” Uncle Lone yelled as he tried to push Huck and his slobbery tongue away from his face.
“What in heaven’s name is goin’ on out there!” Grandma yelled from inside.
“Lord, have mercy!” Henry exclaimed, turning around.
I ran up the porch steps and grabbed Huck around the neck, pulling him off Uncle Lone.
Uncle Lone wiped some of Huck’s drool off his chin.
“Elsie Mae!” he said, sitting up and putting the rocking chair right ways up again. “I intend to put that dog where he shoulda been put when we found ’im.”
“He was jus’ tryin’ to give ya the rag that dropped outta yer pocket,” I said, holding out the dirty rag we’d found on the ground in the back of the house.
Grandma pushed the screen door open.
Huck still danced around, trying to get closer to Uncle Lone. I kept one arm around him, protecting him from Uncle Lone’s wrath.
“Jus’ like he was tryin’ to bring in the laundry?” Uncle Lone asked, hoping to get Huck and me into more trouble.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with the laundry,” I said, praying Grandma wouldn’t look around the house and see how crooked the clothes were.
“Lone Marshall!” Grandma said, putting her hands on her hips. “Why don’t ya go on back up to yer place and leave these young’uns alone? Ya shouldn’t be shim-shackin’ on the porch in the middle of the day anyway. ’Specially when yer brother and pa ’r’ out there tryin’ to track down those hog bandits.”
“Loafin’ ’round!” Uncle Lone exclaimed, standing up. “I’ve been doin’ more’n anyone tryin’ to find those scrapers.”
I did kind of wonder why, if Uncle Lone had his heart so set on finding those hog bandits, he was wasting away his time in Grandpa’s rocking chair.
“Well then, I think all this is addlin’ yer brain,” Grandma said. “Go on home and git some rest.”
Uncle Lone glared at me. He grabbed his rag and stomped down the porch steps and headed toward the trail in the back of the house that led to the cabin where he and Uncle Owen lived.
“That boy, sometimes,” Grandma said as she pulled the screen door open to let herself back inside. “Why don’t y’all go on and find somethin’ t’do too,” she said to Henry and me. “I’ll likely have to hold dinner till later this afternoon with Grandpa and Uncle Owen out there searchin’ fer those hog bandits.”
As she went back inside, I heard Grandma mumble to herself, “Be glad when this whole hog bandit thing is over. Ya ask me, it’s got everyone’s brain addled.”
“Henry, c’mon,” I said, jumping down from the porch without even using the steps. “We jus’ got an answer to our prayers.”
Henry and Huck both followed me as I headed for the trail toward the swamp’s edge.
“Elsie Mae,” Henry called. “Wait up!”
By the time he and Huck got down to the landing, I was already in the boat.
“Git in and let’s go,” I said. “I know how we’re goin’ to find those hog bandits.”
Huck climbed in as soon as he saw me with the pole in my hand. He had grown to love riding in Uncle Owen’s boat as much as I did. Henry was a different story.
“What do ya mean?” Henry asked. “Where we goin’?”
“Back to Hollow Log Pond,” I said. “But we gotta hurry.”
“Oh no!” Henry wailed. “I’m definitely not going back to Hollow Log Pond. First, because I already kept up my end of the bargain and went back there again with ya once. Second, because Uncle Zeke told us not to. And third, because it’s a sin to disobey yer elders.”
Why did everything with Henry have to be so complicated?
“Henry, we have to go,” I said. “We’ve been given a sign.”
“What sign?” Henry asked.
“Well, actually not one sign, but three,” I said. “I think Huck’s special, and his nose fer findin’ things is a gift from God.”
I wasn’t sure how far I should push this, but I really needed to convince Henry as quickly as I could to come with me.
“God’s tryin’ to tell us we need to use Huck to find the bandits,” I said, hoping that squeezing the shape of the truth wasn’t exactly the same as lying.
“Elsie…” Henry said.
“No, really, Henry,” I said. “He’s not jus’ an ordinary dog. Ya know how Huck jus’ jumped up on Uncle Lone the way he jumped up on Aunt Minnie and the way he jumped up on you that day in the garden when you was holdin’ Grandma’s Bible?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, that’s his gift,” I said.
“Jumpin’ on people and lickin’ ’em half to death is a gift from God?” Henry asked.
“No, not that,” I said. “How he finds the people is his gift.”
“What do ya mean?”
“Well, when Huck finds somethin’ that belongs to someone, that somethin’ smells like the person who lost it. Huck uses that smell to find those people. Then, when he finds ’em, he jumps on ’em, licks ’em, and slobbers ’em half to death.”
“Ya mean jus’ like when Uncle Owen’s huntin’ dogs find coons and possums, only Huck’s nose helps ’im find people?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, getting excited that I was finally getting through to Henry.
“I’ve heard ’bout dogs that can do that,” Henry said. “But what ’bout the laundry?” he asked, still sounding skeptical. “If he’s so special, why’s he pullin’ all the laundry off the line?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. That was just Huck being Huck.
“I said he was special. I never said he was perfect.”
Henry was silent for several seconds.
“Well, even if all that’s true, what does that have t’do with us findin’ the hog bandits? We don’t have anythin’ that smells like ’em.”
“But if we go back to Hollow Log Pond, we might,” I said, getting even more excited. “R’member how that piglet’s snout was muzzled?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I took that handkerchief off her snout ’fore I brought her in the boat with us, and I bet it’s still back there in Hollow Log Pond. All we have t’do is go back and git it. Then Huck can smell it and lead us right to the hog bandits.”
I knew that handkerchief would also have a lot of piglet smell on it and probably a lot of other smells too, but I hoped that somehow enough of the low-down hog bandits’ scoundrelly smell would still be on it—at least enough so that Huck could pick up their scent.
“And ya know what the best part is?” I asked, getting even more excited.
“What?” Henry said, sounding as if he was getting less excited with every word I said.
“Huck never yips or barks or growls, so when we do git him sniffin’ the trail to those bandits, we’ll be able to sneak up on ’em without makin’ a sound.”
“Elsie Mae,” Henry said, making his voice sound as if he were preaching at a funeral, “that sounds as dangerous as playin’ with dynamite.”
“Yeah, but if we find those hog bandits, we’ll be even bigger heroes than we were when we rescued that piglet,” I said. “And that sounds ’bout as excitin’ as watchin’ fireworks.”
“But, Elsie, ‘the ways of the wicked lead to destruction,’” Henry said, sounding as somber as he could possibly be. “And this all sounds ’bout as wicked as can be.”
“But, Henry, ‘when ya help the least of these, ya help me,’” I said, hoping that of all those verses I’d learned in Sunday school, I would know the right ones to persuade Henry James that finding those hog bandits was part of God’s plan for both of us.