<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></SPAN>CHAPTER IX</h2>
<h3>The Duck Blind</h3>
<p>Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when
the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of
it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered.</p>
<p>Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he
suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until
we find it."</p>
<p>"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in
the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield
to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher
vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat
hook out like a spear, pointing.</p>
<p>Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed.
Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in
only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the
stern.</p>
<p>"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream
another six feet."</p>
<p>Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He
saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back.</p>
<p>"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow."</p>
<p>The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and
Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy."</p>
<p>The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded
its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it
was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow
channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead
because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one
side to the other as the channel shifted.</p>
<p>Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the
mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a
good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out,
trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the
boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into
the mud for cover.</p>
<p>The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand
across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the
motor.</p>
<p>"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a
pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally
he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we
can go."</p>
<p>Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's
collect the gear and get started."</p>
<p>Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment
from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward
deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept
right on going down into a foot of ooze.</p>
<p>He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more
solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He
leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod.</p>
<p>Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came
ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly.
"We're up to our knees in this mystery already."</p>
<p>Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in
it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you
think it is to the duck blind?"</p>
<p>"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on."</p>
<p>Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys
started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming
a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies.
Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using
the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their
discomfort.</p>
<p>The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass
was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied
the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage
among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the
tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the
antenna they had come to photograph.</p>
<p>Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted.</p>
<p>"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed.</p>
<p>Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on
high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there."</p>
<p>Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of
insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear
long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts,
the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare
hide.</p>
<p>Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces
downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed
through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy
bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and
motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged
with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor.</p>
<p>Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation,
considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their
heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big
grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind.</p>
<p>The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and
splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head
emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled
water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent
decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind
where the entrance was located.</p>
<p>The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in.
There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only
a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or
sitting positions.</p>
<p>Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung
himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a
moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been
exhausting work.</p>
<p>After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and
found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that
had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction.
The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on
Calvert's Favor.</p>
<p>Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under
the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick
watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a
silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading
down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on
the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of
dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of
water.</p>
<p>"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the
pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them."</p>
<p>Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its
case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of
equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the
agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument
to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch
window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow
branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared
tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the
willow.</p>
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<h3><i>Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope</i></h3>
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<p>The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars.
Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short
distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and
his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more,
they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy
knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put
the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it
wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over.</p>
<p>He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him
an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the
identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him.</p>
<p>Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was
ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the
telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that
the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera.</p>
<p>The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen
within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and
within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was
an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the
camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the
picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy
because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance.</p>
<p>Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His
picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put
them on the floor to dry.</p>
<p>The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the
field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would
have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together.</p>
<p>Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in
the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had
brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky,
and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment
wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too
narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great
caution.</p>
<p>Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the
pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their
clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets.</p>
<p>Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his
undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was
sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself
up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following.</p>
<p>They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back
to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had
them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos.</p>
<p>"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've
seen him, but we don't know him."</p>
<p>Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public
figure?"</p>
<p>Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should
be able to get him identified easily."</p>
<p>"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested.</p>
<p>"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture
wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check
it out."</p>
<p>"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked.</p>
<p>Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry
could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their
newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper
back home.</p>
<p>"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper
was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned
professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his
students practical experience.</p>
<p>That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be
available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped
his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the
picture to him."</p>
<p>Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for
Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given
him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The
Megabuck Network."</p>
<p>"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know
these people."</p>
<p>Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A
person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the <i>Brentwood
Advance</i>, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece.
"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere."</p>
<p>Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of
help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If
you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the
morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as
soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units
worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot."</p>
<p>"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the
picture in the mail right away."</p>
<p>He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take
it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the
letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington."</p>
<p>Scotty nodded. "What time is it?"</p>
<p>Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as
soon as Steve calls, or doesn't."</p>
<p>"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded.</p>
<p>"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner."</p>
<p>Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief
note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed <span class="smcap">Airmail Special
Delivery</span> on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and
sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the
neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By
the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the
house to wait.</p>
<p>Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I
have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over.
Everything going all right?"</p>
<p>Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It
takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane.
Allow enough time."</p>
<p>"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?"</p>
<p>"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have
time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make
yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees.
Get in some fishing and swimming."</p>
<p>Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to
get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty.</p>
<p>"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some
fishing."</p>
<p>Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a
mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick
Brantish skull."</p>
<p>"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish."</p>
<p>Scotty just grinned.</p>
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