Read Online The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp by Kathi Appelt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathi Appelt
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hours he pushed his way through the swamp, tripping over tree roots and sloshing through shallow poolsof muck. He was soaked through and through, covered in mud. He kept patting his ammo can, to reassure himself that the photos inside it were safe and dry. He knew that no one would take him seriously if he claimed to have seen the ivory-billed woodpecker without proof. The photograph was his proof.
âSuitable for framing,â Audie announced. Yep. And even though he was thoroughly lost, he felt enormously lucky. And happy, too. So happy. And, he noticed, his nose was becoming increasingly stuffed up.
He finally reached a clearing and held his head back, mouth open in the pouring rain, to try to quench his thirst. He rubbed his neck while he gulped at the drops. But despite the heavy downpour, it didnât seem as though he could take in enough to slake his thirst. He lapped at it with his tongue and stood there for a long time, face toward the sky, eyes closed. The scratch began to burn.
Finally, when he thought he might drown from facing into the rain, luck found him once more. He opened his eyes and looked ahead just as a bolt of lightning slashed through the rain-soaked trees. And there, he was sure of it, in that momentary flash, sat the DeSoto.
Oh, sweet salvation!
He stumbled toward the automobile, which had been waiting there all those long hours. Just as he approachedit, another bolt of lightning cracked so close that it lifted Audie right out of his waterlogged boots.
It lit up the whole area, so that he could clearly see the car now, with its beautiful mud-caked grille. Not only that, but the hood ornament, the bust of the conquistador, glowed in the dark. The bolt of lightning must have activated the battery, he thought. In that moment, Audie Brayburn had never loved anything so much as he loved that car.
He stumbled into the backseat and began to shiver. His throat felt raw, as if he had swallowed pricker vines. All he wanted to do was curl up in the dryness of the DeSoto and go to sleep.
The seats of a 1949 DeSoto are made of soft leather, with straight, solid stitches. Theyâre wide and roomy, too. Perfect for a weary explorer to lie down and sleep. The last thing that Audie Brayburn did before he drifted off was open up his Polaroid Land Camera so that it could dry out. He was still holding it on his stomach when at last he closed his eyes.
Soon, it felt like the car was rocking, rocking, rocking.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he felt a bump , and when he did, he accidentally hit the button on the Polaroid, which still sat on his stomach. He woke just as the flashbulb popped. For a second he was blinded by the reflection of the flash against the carâs window.
Instinctively, he pulled the film out of the back of the camera. He likely would not have seen the photo if another bolt of lightning hadnât struck nearby. But it did, and there, in the brief flash, he saw a fuzzy face framed by the windows of the car. Audie blinked. He thought of all the fuzzy faces in the woodsâraccoons, possums, bears. Now he had a photo of one, but in the darkness he couldnât tell exactly what it was. On top of that, the fever coursing through his body made everything blurry. He sat up for a moment, the photo in his hand. He peeled the backing off and set it on the floorboard. Then he covered the photo with coater, blew on it, and slipped it into the ammo can with the others.
The camera only held eight shots. Now there were only five more left on that roll, and it reminded him that sooner rather than later, heâd run out of supplies and have to leave the swamp and head home.
But before then, he had to sleep. He was so, so, so sleepy. So very sleepy . . .
32
A FTER HIS NARROW ESCAPE FROM the primeval possum, Bingo slipped into the DeSoto, carrying his pawful of dewberries for his brother. But when he looked over the seat back, he noticed that Jâmiah was sawing logs.
âSuitable for framing,â Audie announced. Yep. And even though he was thoroughly lost, he felt enormously lucky. And happy, too. So happy. And, he noticed, his nose was becoming increasingly stuffed up.
He finally reached a clearing and held his head back, mouth open in the pouring rain, to try to quench his thirst. He rubbed his neck while he gulped at the drops. But despite the heavy downpour, it didnât seem as though he could take in enough to slake his thirst. He lapped at it with his tongue and stood there for a long time, face toward the sky, eyes closed. The scratch began to burn.
Finally, when he thought he might drown from facing into the rain, luck found him once more. He opened his eyes and looked ahead just as a bolt of lightning slashed through the rain-soaked trees. And there, he was sure of it, in that momentary flash, sat the DeSoto.
Oh, sweet salvation!
He stumbled toward the automobile, which had been waiting there all those long hours. Just as he approachedit, another bolt of lightning cracked so close that it lifted Audie right out of his waterlogged boots.
It lit up the whole area, so that he could clearly see the car now, with its beautiful mud-caked grille. Not only that, but the hood ornament, the bust of the conquistador, glowed in the dark. The bolt of lightning must have activated the battery, he thought. In that moment, Audie Brayburn had never loved anything so much as he loved that car.
He stumbled into the backseat and began to shiver. His throat felt raw, as if he had swallowed pricker vines. All he wanted to do was curl up in the dryness of the DeSoto and go to sleep.
The seats of a 1949 DeSoto are made of soft leather, with straight, solid stitches. Theyâre wide and roomy, too. Perfect for a weary explorer to lie down and sleep. The last thing that Audie Brayburn did before he drifted off was open up his Polaroid Land Camera so that it could dry out. He was still holding it on his stomach when at last he closed his eyes.
Soon, it felt like the car was rocking, rocking, rocking.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he felt a bump , and when he did, he accidentally hit the button on the Polaroid, which still sat on his stomach. He woke just as the flashbulb popped. For a second he was blinded by the reflection of the flash against the carâs window.
Instinctively, he pulled the film out of the back of the camera. He likely would not have seen the photo if another bolt of lightning hadnât struck nearby. But it did, and there, in the brief flash, he saw a fuzzy face framed by the windows of the car. Audie blinked. He thought of all the fuzzy faces in the woodsâraccoons, possums, bears. Now he had a photo of one, but in the darkness he couldnât tell exactly what it was. On top of that, the fever coursing through his body made everything blurry. He sat up for a moment, the photo in his hand. He peeled the backing off and set it on the floorboard. Then he covered the photo with coater, blew on it, and slipped it into the ammo can with the others.
The camera only held eight shots. Now there were only five more left on that roll, and it reminded him that sooner rather than later, heâd run out of supplies and have to leave the swamp and head home.
But before then, he had to sleep. He was so, so, so sleepy. So very sleepy . . .
32
A FTER HIS NARROW ESCAPE FROM the primeval possum, Bingo slipped into the DeSoto, carrying his pawful of dewberries for his brother. But when he looked over the seat back, he noticed that Jâmiah was sawing logs.
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