“What a reception!” exclaimed Kitty. “It really looks as though Uncle Mose won’t get his smoking tobacco today.” “No launch tied up here. I suppose Beeson is away, and this is the guard he has set.” “Would an honest man be so careful that nobody comes prowling around?” “I doubt it.” “Sally and Lana Bright have lived in this low country all their lives. They say the doors of their country house are never locked.” “Those who do the most skulduggery are likely to be very suspicious of other people.” Their boat was carried off toward a shelving beach by the current. Noting this the dogs left their high perch on the dock and ran around to head them off from landing anywhere else. “Well trained, aren’t they?” Brad commented. “Sure looks like it.” “I suppose we can turn around and go home the way we came,” Brad said ruefully. “I hate to be checkmated like this,” Kitty said in disgust. She reached for her oar when suddenly Brad exclaimed, “Wait! There comes somebody.” Kitty glanced in the direction he pointed. “Why, it’s Uncle Mose himself!” The old man came hobbling down the weed-grown path. When he was in hearing distance Kitty called out, “Hi, Uncle Mose! It’s your friends. Call off the dogs.” Uncle Mose came to the water’s edge and peered at them with dimming eyes before he said, turning to the dogs, “Shut up, you hounds! Quit dat racket! Don’ you know quality folks when you sees ’em?” He finally had to get a stick to send the hounds slinking back toward the house. Brad pushed their boat closer to the shelving shore where the old man stood. “After that reception I guess we’d better stay in the boat,” suggested Brad. “I have good news for you, Uncle Mose,” Kitty said when they were close enough to speak without yelling. “Yassum. I sho be pleased to hear it.” “I got young Tradd’s address.” Then Kitty told him of meeting Tradd’s buddy on the troop train. “He gave me a dollar to buy you some tobacco so I brought it along.” She stood in the prow to offer the gift while Uncle Mose waded a few feet into the water. “And here’s a pipe I brought you, too,” added Kitty. The weathered old face crinkled into a smile. “I sho proud o’ dis, Missie. Hit moighty thoughty o’ you to come way out here to brung it to me.” He crammed the gifts into his coat pockets. “But I promised to write a letter for you, too. If you’ll tell me what you want me to say I’ll write to Mr. Tradd.” “Oh, Missie, would you do dat fer sho?” “Of course.” “We ain’t got much time, Missie. Mah boss due back here pretty soon now. He done tole me I ain’t to pass no words wid y’all if you come back here again.” Kitty glanced uneasily north along the inlet, but it was empty in the slanting sunlight that had broken through ragged clouds. “So he warned you, eh? He was down at the station the day that boy gave me the money for your tobacco.”