Harry was interested in the story of the stranded ship. It was not until his plodding boat had come within a quarter mile of the island and the mud-bound packet that a sudden thought occurred to Harry. The Shadow’s chart flashed into mind.
An island, near one shore. Shoal water or swamp — it was the latter. A projecting rock or some object amid that swamp — the River Queen answered the description. A steamboat — not a rock!
Harry had found the isle of doubt!
The Shadow’s agent turned to the mate. The man was biting off a chew of tobacco as Harry put a question.
“Is there a landing anywhere above the island?”
“Sure,” nodded the mate. “The old Saunders Landing, a couple of miles up. We’re putting in there.”
“How’s the farm land or plantations hereabouts? Cheap?”
“You bet; but any guy’s a sucker to buy it.”
“Why?”
“Going down in value right along. The old Saunders plantation was for sale. They say a fellow from St. Louis bought it. Maybe he wants to get rid of it.”
“Maybe I’m a sucker,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Nevertheless, I’m looking for property around here.”
“You’ll find plenty of it,” asserted the mate. “The river moved out a couple of miles up the line. Stranded the town of Knoxport. The place has been dead ever since. If you’re looking for land, you might as well drop off at Saunders Landing.”
“That’s what I’ll do,” decided Harry.
THE steamboat was passing the island. The wreck of the River Queen was lost from view. Thick woods dominated the island. A mass of green obscured the interior from sight.
As the steamboat progressed and entered a straight expanse, Harry could see small crags jutting from the head of the isle. Up the river, on the left side, he made out a small, but well-kept landing.
When the boat came to dock, Harry Vincent stepped down the gangplank. He was eyed curiously by barefooted gamins and lounging Negroes who had come to see the steamship dock. Among them was a husky white man, wearing knickers and leather puttees, and displaying brawny arms from a sleeveless shirt. He was superintending the unloading of some large cases from the boat.
Harry approached the man. He waited until the job was ended. The steamboat was sliding away into midstream; Negroes were loading the cases on an old truck. The brawny-armed man looked at Harry.
“Want to see me?” he questioned.
“I’m looking for the Saunders plantation,” stated Harry.
“Yeah?” questioned the man. “That’s where I’m from.”
“Fine!” exclaimed Harry. “I heard the place was for sale. I wanted to look it over.”
“It’s not for sale now,” returned the bare-armed man. “I’m working for the gentleman who just bought the plantation. It belongs to Weston Levis, from St. Louis. He’s living there now.”
Harry drew a card from his pocket and proffered it to the man. The card bore Harry’s name and the announcement that he was a New York real-estate agent.
“Perhaps,” suggested Harry, “it would be worth my while to call on Mr. Levis.”
“Suit yourself,” returned the man, extending his hand. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Vincent. My name is Hadley. I’m the superintendent or overseer or whatever you want to call me. Come along, if you want. We’re riding up to the plantation now.”
Hadley took the wheel of the old truck. Harry clambered up beside him on the driver’s seat, and tossed his bag into the back, where three Negroes were seated with the cases that they had loaded. Hadley jammed the truck into gear. It rolled along a dirt road, and took a fork toward the left.
The rough road paralleled the river for a quarter of a mile. Then it came into a clearing, beside a tiny cove. Harry had not seen this spot while coming up the river, but he noted with elation that the island and the wreck of the River Queen were both visible from this spot. Hadley brought the truck to a stop in front of an old plantation house.
“Here we are,” the man announced. “Mr. Levis is inside. Come on — I’ll introduce you to him.”
Leaving his bag in the truck, Harry alighted and followed Hadley toward the house. The door opened and a kindly faced old gentleman appeared. He was attired in a white Palm Beach suit, and he gazed quizzically at the stranger who was accompanying Hadley.
Harry knew that the man at the door must be Weston Levis. With his glib story in readiness, The Shadow’s agent approached. There was nothing but calmness in this sultry scene, yet Harry Vincent sensed that adventure might well be lurking over the old plantation. With the isle of doubt visible down the stretch of the Mississippi, this would be the spot from which to act!
CHAPTER VII. HARRY GETS ACQUAINTED
HARRY VINCENT and Weston Levis were seated in the front room of the plantation house. The new owner of the Saunders tract had invited Harry there immediately upon hearing Hadley’s introduction. In the coolness of a broad, open-windowed room, Harry found himself facing a man who seemed to possess a youthful vigor in spite of advanced years.
“So you are from New York,” Levis was inquiring. “It is rather unusual for a visitor from the East to stop at this isolated landing on the Mississippi.”
“Surprising, yes,” smiled Harry. “At the same time, Mr. Levis, I am somewhat bewildered to discover a gentleman of urban characteristics living in this region.”
“I am in retirement,” declared Levis. “I am classed as an elderly man, Mr. Vincent. After forty years of business in St. Louis and other cities, I have been warned by my physician to take a rest. I was advised to go to California, or to Florida. I compromised by coming here.” Levis paused as a servant entered with a tray and glasses. Harry was offered a cooling drink, which he accepted. Levis also took a glass and, after a short sip, proceeded.
“You are the first visitor to my new residence,” remarked the old man. “This plantation is not for sale; nevertheless, you are welcome to its hospitality. Even if I should emerge from my retirement, I shall keep the plantation as a vacation spot. I like it here on the Mississippi. I have chosen well.” The old man was gazing over the rim of his glass. He shook the ice against the sides, took another sip, and laid the tumbler aside.
“Three months ago,” announced Levis reflectively, “I received my ultimatum. Increased business interests had led me into many channels. I had acquired my share of wealth. I was a director in many progressive enterprises. At last I began to feel the effects of ill health.
“Retirement, the doctor said. I protested. I could not leave the Mississippi district. Then the idea struck me to locate somewhere on the river, to remain close by, while I regained my former energy. Harvey Wendell — a man who has long served me in a secretarial capacity — came to me one day and told me of this plantation. I purchased it for a song. Now, a few weeks after my residence has begun, you arrive with the desire to buy the same place. Quite odd, I must declare.”
HARRY saw that it was time to offer an explanation. Duplicating Levis’ casual manipulation of a drinking-glass, Harry replied.
“Odd, yes,” were the young man’s words. “Particularly because my purpose is different from yours. I represent men in New York who have seen possibilities in the development of the Mississippi Valley. Naturally, with the proper financing dead regions may be brought to life.
“I was particularly interested in Saunders Landing, because I learned that the town of Knoxport was once a thriving place — now lost from sight because of a change in the course of the Mississippi. I thought that with this plantation as a nucleus, it might be possible to build up a prosperous town that would gain the place which the old one held.”