The Mystery of the Alligator Swamp
“Swampwater was doing just what the three Aldens had left Grandfather doing — sitting in the shade of a tree, reading a book.
“Hi,” said Jessie. “We came to see your museum.”
“And to learn more about the swamp. And alligators,” said Violet.
“You’ve come to the right place, my friends.” Swampwater stood up and tucked his book under his arm. “Step this way to Swampwater’s Swamp Museum.”
They went inside the small two-room cabin. Like Billie’s place, the cabin had a deep screened porch. It was right on the edge of the bayou, with a short pier over the water. Tied to the pier were two pirogues and a larger flat-bottom boat with bench seats and a canopy over the top of the seats for shade. All three boats had the words SWAMPWATER NELSON’S SWAMP TOURS on the sides, as did the house.
“Where’s Rose?” Henry asked Swampwater. “Doesn’t she help give the tours, too?”
“Ah, she’s taking the afternoon off,” said Swampwater. “Didn’t say why, though. Maybe this ghost business is too much for her,”
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