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money toward the boat rental, then they all headed for the hydroplane.
    As Frank and Dusty were boarding the hydroplane, Trent Furman came strolling down the dock, sipping a mug of coffee. “I heard you got into some alligator trouble again.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Chet replied, scratching his shoulder. “Mosquito trouble, too.”
    â€œThat’ll teach you boys to go into the swamp alone at night,” Furman said sharply.
    Frank gave Furman a probing look. Furman’shard gaze turned to a warm smile. “Just kidding, boys. Hey, I’ll bet Zack Platt will catch that big alligator tonight. Then it’ll be safe for all of us.”
    â€œWhere was Mr. Platt?” Joe asked. “We were stranded out there all night and didn’t see him.”
    â€œI guess you just didn’t cross paths,” Furman said lightly. “Where are you going now?” he added, skillfully changing the subject.
    â€œBig Cypress Swamp,” Dusty replied.
    â€œSounds exciting. What’s there?” Furman wondered.
    â€œAn alligator farm,” Dusty replied.
    Frank saw Furman’s expression cloud for a moment before he recovered and smiled again. “Well,” Furman said, “have a safe trip.” He tipped his hat and returned to his cabin.
    A minute later Dusty and Frank were airborne and flying north toward Big Cypress Swamp.
    Joe and Chet headed for the lodge to try to find Homer. As they passed beneath Furman’s window, Joe heard the crackle of a shortwave radio and Furman’s voice. “They’ll be there in less than an hour.”
    â€œOkay. We’ll take care of it at this end,” another voice replied over the radio. There was so much static that it distorted the other voice, and Joe had no chance of recognizing it.
    â€œTen-four,” Furman’s voice replied, then Joe heard him switch off the radio.
    Joe and Chet found Homer in the main lodge,tying his own fly fishing lures. Homer was planning to do some trout fishing, and he was a little grumpy about being asked to take Joe and Chet to the trading post instead.
    Joe mentioned Furman’s shortwave radio and the strange bit of conversation he had overheard.
    â€œI know all about his radio. That’s the only way to communicate with the outside world from here,” Homer grumbled. “I have a shortwave radio, too, and I suppose that means I’m up to no good?”
    Joe could see Homer was in no mood to discuss anything reasonably, so he said nothing more. Chet asked if their first stop could be at the scene of last night’s accident. Homer grumbled, but said yes.
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    In daylight, Joe thought, the swamp didn’t look at all menacing. He spotted the corner of the sunken pedal boat sticking out of the water. “I’ll get it,” he said to the others. Joe had worn swimming trunks under his clothes, pledging to keep at least one set of clothes dry for a whole day.
    â€œYou sure you want to go in that water?” Homer asked, worried. “The water’s murky, and who knows what could be down there.”
    â€œIf you two keep your eyes peeled, I should be all right,” Joe replied as he took off his T-shirt.
    With that, he slipped over the bow of the pontoon boat and into the water. He discovered he could just touch the muddy bottom on tiptoe. Finding the rudder, he began running his handalong the hull of the boat until he found a hole in the fiberglass.
    Joe stretched, turning his chin up to keep his mouth above the surface. “There’s a hole in the bottom of the boat.”
    â€œI could have told you that,” Homer replied. “The alligator probably rammed it with its snout.”
    â€œWait!” Joe said, excited. “There’s something wedged in the hole. It’s stuck in here pretty well.”
    Joe was happy he had been pumping iron all year. With his powerful arms, he was able to pry the object