“We can stay two whole hours before we start back. That’s a very long time.” “I never saw such magnificent trees,” said Hazel. Her eyes turned here and there as if she could not take in enough of the beauty. “And smell the fragrance of the sun on the pine needles,” said Kitty. “A wise old Hindu told me once that man can gain renewed vitality in a pine grove quicker than anywhere else,” Mr. Carter told them. “Then anybody ought to live forever here,” said Brad. None of them had ever seen such a virgin forest. There was very little underbrush, just the towering pines rising from their thick carpet of brown needles, their green tops nodding against a blue sky, with a sweet sighing in the gentle breeze. “This carpet of brown needles doesn’t look as though a human foot had been set here for half a century,” remarked Kitty. “They’re protected from the sea winds by that island to the east,” said Mr. Carter. As he glanced that way his expression changed. “I do believe we’ve landed behind the island where they burn the hospital refuse.” Brad glanced at Kitty, but neither admitted that this was where they wanted to land. Billy picked up a branch for a gun and began to play Indian. “Do you think this is really Terrapin Island?” Kitty asked in a low tone when she and Brad strolled off toward the eastern shore. He took out his little map, and they studied it. “Can’t be any other,” he said. “There’re smoke smudges yonder. Must be the dump heap. We’re directly west of it.” “But there’s no sign of a hog range here.” “The map indicates it’s a rather large island compared with many others round here. The hogs may be at the other end. These islands are often broken up by low lands that fill at high tide.” “Brad, do you suppose this Beeson could be helping get stuff to the German subs, too?” “It all looks very suspicious to me, Kit. Here he is living right next to where the dump is. We have every reason to doubt Punaro’s loyalty. He’s obliged to have dealings with this hog raiser when he comes to get the stuff from the galley. You can’t help judging people by those they’re closely associated with.” Billy trailed after them as they picked their way along the eastern shore to the island. On this side there was a low bluff. Kitty glanced back to note that her father and Hazel were sitting under a pine in sight of their boat. She and Brad continued tramping down the eastern shore. When they had gone about a half mile they saw an old negro fishing from the bluff. On stiff-jointed knees he got to his feet as they approached. “Howdy,” he said, with the genuine courtesy of the old southern negro. “Y’all lookin’ fer somebody?” “Oh, no,” said Brad. “We just came out here on a little boat ride and for a picnic supper.” The old man took off his battered felt and scratched his woolly head. “Reckon y’all bettah go some’ers else to eat yo’ suppah. Massa don’ like nobody in the pine grove. Reckon you see dem sign he stick up.”