The Mystery of the Alligator Swamp Read Free Page A

asked, excited by the idea.
    “She was a big old gator, bigger than any of you,” said Gaston. “No one knows what happened to her. She probably just lived out her life and died of old age.”
    “Is her ghost big, too?” Henry asked.
    “According to those sun-fried fishermen,” said Gaston. He gave Billie a narrow-eyed look. “And you make it worse, telling ’em all about it.”
    Billie shrugged. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Makes ’em be more careful. And makes ’em return the boats on time … before sunset.”
    “Well, if it keeps away the foolish people who don’t appreciate an amazing place like the basin, then good for the ghost alligator,” said Gaston. “Maybe I do believe in it, at that.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “A fine dinner, and it was nice to meet you all.”
    “Aren’t you going to eat dessert?” Benny cried.
    “Don’t like dessert,” Gaston said. He nodded and glided out of the room into the darkening night as quietly as a ghost.
    The children stared at one another.
    Billie laughed. “Gaston doesn’t talk much,” she explained. “But Eve makes up for it.”
    “When will we meet Eve?” asked Jessie.
    “Tomorrow,” said Billie. “When you meet Swampwater Nelson.”
    “Who’s that?” asked Henry.
    “He’s a guide. He and his assistant, Rose Delane, run tours and are swamp guides. Nobody knows these swamps better than Nelson. I’ve arranged for Swampwater to give you four kids a special tour of the swamp, first thing in the morning.”
    “That sounds great,” cried Jessie.
    “Oh, it will be,” Billie said. “You never know, what’s going to happen on one of Nelson’s special tours, but it’s always fan.”
    “Maybe we’ll see a ghost,” said Benny.
    “Maybe you will,” said Billie. She sounded amused. The Aldens could tell Billie didn’t really believe in a ghost alligator.
    Of course, they didn’t, either.

Chapter 3
A Haunted Fish Camp?
    Benny sat up in his creaky bed on the sleeping porch of the cabin. He’d thought it would be very quiet out in the middle of a swamp. But he was wrong.
    It was noisy. Tree frogs shrilled from the trees. Bigger frogs croaked like bass fiddles from the darkness. He heard strange calls that he hoped came from owls.
    No matter how hard he tried to go to sleep, Benny kept hearing strange sounds that kept him awake.
    And he was hot. Even the thin sheet he was clutching felt as heavy and hot as a blanket. He didn’t let it go, though. He wanted to hold on to it in case he had to yank it over his head.
    What was that? Benny tried to see in the dark. He couldn’t. Remembering his flashlight by the bed, he decided to turn it on.
    Slowly and carefully, Benny picked up his flashlight. Was that something walking out in front of the cabin?
    He clicked the flashlight on — and gasped. “Oh!” he cried, jumping up. His feet got tangled in the sheet. He fell and the whole small cabin seemed to shake.
    “What is it?” It was Jessie, her voice sharp. She always woke up quickly.
    “Wh-who’s there?” Violet’s voice was slower, sleepier.
    The porch light clicked on. Henry stood there, his hair sticking up. Grandfather came out from the bedroom. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
    “Look! Look!” Benny almost shouted. He waved his flashlight. The beam of it danced across the screen and the sandy strip in front of the cabin.

    “At what? A ghost?” asked Henry, lifting his eyebrows.
    “No. It wasn’t a ghost. It was a raccoon,” Benny explained.
    “A raccoon won’t hurt you, Benny,” said Jessie.
    “I wasn’t scared,” said Benny indignantly. “Just surprised.”
    “Well, the raccoon was scared, I’d say. It’s long gone. Good night, everybody,” Grandfather said. He turned off the porch light and went back to his room.
    Soon everybody had gone back to sleep — everybody except Benny. He closed his eyes and tried very hard to go to sleep, too.
    Swish, swish, swish.
    Benny’s eyes flew