“Grandpa! Grandpa!” I yelled as Henry and I ran up the trail toward the house.
Huck loped after us, not knowing how much of a hero he was about to become.
“What ’r’ ya kids yellin’ ’bout?” Grandma asked from the porch where she sat in the rocking chair snapping beans.
“It’s the hog bandits,” I said, out of breath as we ran up the steps. “We found ’em! Fer real this time! Where’s Grandpa? Is he back from Hamp’s yet?”
Grandma’s bowl of snap beans clattered to the porch floor as she stood up to hold me by the shoulders. “Elsie Mae, what’ve y’all been up to?”
“We found ’em, Grandma!” I exclaimed. “But we gotta hurry, or they’ll git away. Where’s Grandpa?”
“Child, ya better slow down and tell me what’s goin’ on,” Grandma said.
Just then, Grandpa came around the side of the house, wiping his forehead with the rag he always kept in his pocket.
“What’s all the yellin’ ’bout out here?” he asked.
I pulled myself away from Grandma and jumped back down the porch steps to where Grandpa was standing at the corner of the house.
“We found ’em, Grandpa! The hog bandits,” I said. “And it was Huck who led us right to ’em.”
I reached down and scratched Huck on the head as he stood next to me almost as if he was waiting on me to tell Grandpa what a great job he’d done.
“What’re ya talkin’ ’bout, Elsie Mae?” Grandpa asked.
“The hog bandits are over by Cravens Hammock in a lean-to on a little island,” I explained. “But we gotta hurry cuz they could wake up and git away! So c’mon!”
I started walking toward the trail that led to the landing, hoping I’d told enough of the story to get Grandpa to follow me.
“Elsie Mae, yer gonna have to slow down and tell me what’s goin’ on,” Grandpa said, putting his hands on his hips.
“Well, ya see, Uncle Zeke,” Henry explained. “We done somethin’ we shouldn’t of, but we done it fer a real good reason.”
Why did Henry always have to bring up the sinful side of everything?
I turned back around to face Grandpa.
“OK, here’s what happened,” I said, and then I explained the whole story.
I eventually told Grandpa about the boat that we stole, but not before I told him all the other good stuff we’d done. As I talked, Grandma came down into the yard from the porch and interrupted my story with more gasps and “Oh my’s!” than I could count.
Once I finished, Grandpa said, “Well, then we better git on over there right quick.”
Then he hollered, “Owen! Lone! Let’s go!”
The two of them must’ve been out back by the barn helping Grandpa with something, because in less than a minute we saw them coming around the corner of the house. As soon as we saw them, Huck stuck his nose in the air, and then the next thing I knew his snout was on the ground sniffing a path leading right up toward Uncle Lone. Once he got up close enough, he jumped up on Uncle Lone and started licking him half to death. Henry and I looked at each other, and I got a real strange feeling in my stomach.
“Git this gol’darn dog offa me!” Uncle Lone yelled.
I ran after Huck and pulled him down off Uncle Lone.
“That animal’s a menace,” Uncle Lone said, brushing himself off.
“Never bothers me,” Uncle Owen said. “He must jus’ like the taste of ornery.”
And Uncle Owen laughed at his own joke, but Henry and I didn’t laugh. Having Huck jump up on Uncle Lone after Huck had just been tracking the hog bandits might mean that Uncle Lone was more than just ornery.
“Boys,” Grandpa said to Uncle Owen and Uncle Lone, “’nough of that shim-shackin’ ’round. Elsie and Henry jus’ found the hog bandits, and they’s passed out in a lean-to over by Cravens Hammock. We need to git there quick so’s we can capture ’em before they wake up.”
“Are ya kiddin’ with me?” Uncle Owen said. “How did the two of ya track down those scrapers?”
Uncle Lone didn’t say anything. He just scratched his forehead and rubbed his hands together.
“We don’t have time to explain the story now,” Grandpa said. “They’ll tell ya on the way.”
“Oh no they won’t,” Grandma said. “Those two young’uns are stayin’ right here with me.”
I groaned. Now that it was time for the capture of the hog bandits, Henry and I weren’t even going to get to go?
“Sarah,” Grandpa said firmly. “They’s the ones who found the bandits. They’s the ones who’re gonna bring ’em in.”
“Well, I ain’t goin’,” Uncle Lone said, sounding agitated. “I got other stuff t’do.”
“After all that braggin’ ’bout bringin’ these scoundrels to justice, and yer not even gonna go ’long?” Grandma asked.
“He’s jus’ jealous that Elsie and Henry found those doggoned hog bandits when he’s been searchin’ one end of the swamp to the other lookin’ for ’em,” Uncle Owen said, laughing to himself.
“Don’t matter to me why he ain’t goin’,” Grandpa said. “We jus’ ain’t got time to waste standin’ ’round here talkin’. Owen, grab our rifles and some rope from ’round back, and let’s go!”
But in as much of a hurry as Grandpa was to leave, Uncle Lone disappeared around the back of the house before we’d even headed down the trail toward the boat.
Nobody but Henry and I knew that Uncle Lone could be more than just mad that Henry and I had been the ones to find the hog bandits. It might could be a lot more than that, but there was no time for that now. The hog bandits were waiting.