Secret of the Satilfa

by Ted M. Dunagan

It wasn’t long before I heard Poudlum stirring. His head popped out from underneath his quilt like a turtle. “Mmmmmm, dat fire sho do feel good,” he said in a gravelly morning voice.

  “You sleep good?” I asked him.

  “Like a big old tired rock. You?”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  He sat up, gathered his quilt around him, and scrunched up closer to the fire. “It helped dat didn’t no bank robbers come sneaking ’cross de creek and tie us up to dey smelly toes.”

  We grinned at each other across the fire and held our hands closer to the fire to warm them.

  “I sho is hungry,” Poudlum said.

  I dug two big cinnamon rolls, wrapped in wax paper, out of my sack. They cost a dime each at Miss Lena’s Store, but they were bigger than a large man’s hand and were covered with a creamy white icing. In anticipation last night, I had cut two long, slim sticks and whittled a sharp point on each of them. We unwrapped the rolls, impaled them on the sticks, and warmed them over hot coals.

  With sticky hands and faces but full stomachs, we abandoned the warmth of our fire and lay down on our bellies next to the edge of the creek where we sucked up gulps of the cold water, which washed our hands and faces as it quenched our thirst.

  When we got back by the fire, once again warm and content inside our quilts, I told Poudlum how the answer to the first part of the riddle had come to me.

  “I knew it would, I just knew it would!” he repeated. “How we gon figure out de second part?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll just keep going up the creek and somehow we’ll do it.”

  “But we ain’t got another night for you to sleep on de bank of dis creek and figure it out.”

  “I know. Maybe we can figure it out by the time we get to the Cypress Hole.”

  “What if we don’t?”

  “Be positive, Poudlum, and start thinking!”

  We raked sand over our fire, rolled our quilts up, tucked them in our sacks and started up the creek as the early morning sun warmed our way.

  Other than raccoons and squirrels, nothing out of the ordinary attracted our attention until we got to the spot where the Mill Creek merged into the Satilfa. It was there that the remains of the illegal moonshine still, which Poudlum had discovered, loomed up in front of us. It was still a foreboding site, but now lacking the evil and fear it had instilled in us when we had secretly observed its actual operation. We had gone on to implicate the lawbreakers and reaped a nice profit from doing so.

  A little further up we passed the Fallen Tree Bridge, which was just what the name implied, a huge tree which had fallen across a narrow spot in the creek and could actually be used as a bridge to cross the creek. This was the spot where Poudlum and I had last seen our friend Jake just before we sent him off on a river to freedom. We lingered, remembered it all, then smiled at each other because we knew we had done the right thing.

  By noon we were standing underneath the Iron Bridge on Center Point Road.

  “What we gon do now?” Poudlum asked. “We ain’t seen nothing to lead us to dat money.”

  It was a discouraging situation, but I wasn’t giving up. “Let’s just walk on up to the Cypress Hole on this side of the creek where Jesse and Frank were. They came up on this side, and we were on the other side camping out.”

  “Yeah, let’s see where dey were ’fore dey came across de creek and ate up our fried catfish.”

  It was just a short walk from the bridge up to the Cypress Hole, but I suddenly realized I had never been up that side of the creek, above the bridge and across from our favorite fishing hole. That is except to one spot to tie our trot line to a tree.

  We had only gone a few steps when Poudlum picked up the trail Jesse and Frank had left. “Look at dat!” he exclaimed when he came to a sudden halt and held his arm out in front of me.

  “What?”

  “It’s an old trail, but see how de low bushes are still bent and broken?”

  Poudlum was right. There it was right in front of us, a beaten-down path which surely the bank robbers had made.

  We proceeded carefully along the path while we watched for clues. “Look for anything, Poudlum, something they might have dropped or left behind.”

  We searched in vain, but nary a clue did we find, and eventually we were across the creek from our former campsite, the end of the trail. We did find a trampled down area where Jesse and Frank must have lain in wait before they had crossed the creek, ate our fish, and held us as prisoners.

  “I bet dis is where dey lay around waiting for it to get dark before dey crossed de creek,” Poudlum said.

  “I ’spect you right, Poudlum. Let’s search around on the ground real close.”

  We got down on our hands and knees and searched, but there was nothing to be found.

  “Doggone dem robbers, dey could’ve left us some kind of clue,” Poudlum said.

  “Ain’t nothing here. I guess they smarter than I thought they were. Come on, let’s cross the creek and go on back to the road. Uncle Curvin ought to be coming along before long.”

  “We just gon give up?”

  “Just for the time being. Ain’t nothing else left to do.”

  There was a black gum tree right close to the bank where the creek-crossing was. Black gums liked to grow near water among pine thickets. Birds loved them, too, because in the fall they were covered with berries. Not berries that were good for people to eat, but birds, especially woodpeckers, liked them.

  I noticed the dried remains of bleached-out bird droppings on the tree’s roots as they spread out from its base. Just before I stepped on the first rock in the creek I saw something else!

  Someone had carved an arrow into the trunk of the tree just above the ground. It was pointing straight down toward the deep water of the Cypress Hole below the rocky shoals!

  “Hang on, Poudlum!” I cried out. “Look at that,” I said, pointing toward the tree trunk.

  At first he thought I had spotted a snake, but I quelled his fear when I pointed directly at the arrow again. We both dropped to our knees and began to examine it. “Somebody carved that in the tree!”

  “It looks fresh too,” Poudlum observed.

  We looked at the arrow and then at the deep water it pointed toward, and we knew—It’s deep but it’s nearby.

  The money was on the bottom of the creek below the deep, dark water of the Cypress Hole!

  The edge of the forest hung over each side of the creek, leaving only a narrow opening from the sun to touch the water for a brief period during the middle of the day. The sun had crested the eastern edge of the forest and hung directly overhead, sending shimmering light dancing across the surface as we stared down toward the depths of the Cypress Hole.

  “How you think dey keeping it dry and how dey got it to stay down without it floating up and away?” Poudlum asked.

  “I figure they put it in some kind of water-proof container and then tied it to a big rock before they slid it into the water.”

  We just stood there staring at the water for a few moments. I knew Poudlum had been thinking the same thing as I had when he said, “How in de world is we ever gon get it outta dat water? How deep you think it is?”

  “I’ve heard tell it’s about twenty feet deep,” I told him.

  “Dat money might as well be in China,” Poudlum said as he shook his head in disappointment.

  “Hey, we figured out where it was, didn’t we?”

  “Uh-huh, we did dat, but it appears dat knowing where it is and getting it is two different things.”

  “We found it and we’ll figure out a way to get it out of the water, Poudlum.”

  “I bet you couldn’t even see down there. Probably some giant catfish down there that would swallow you like a worm. Is you gon go down in dat cold, deep water and get it?”

  �
��I might.”

  “How you gon find it if you can’t see down there?”

  “I’ll feel around on the bottom for it.”

  “A big catfish would probably bite one of yo’ fingers off while you wuz feeling around.”

  “Hush, Poudlum. You just trying to get me scared. What we need is some kind of a big hook, tie it to a rope and fish it out.”

  “Well, we ain’t got nothin’ like dat.”

  “What you think we ought to do then?” I asked Poudlum.

  “I think we ought to leave it alone for de time being’.”

  “What you talking about, Poudlum? We done gone to all this trouble and now that we found it just walk off and leave it?”

  “We knows where it is, and it ain’t going nowhere. I say we gots to get us some help and come back later.”

  I knew Poudlum was right. It was too dangerous a thing for just the two of us to attempt to raise the money by ourselves. “I guess you right, Poudlum. We will have to get some help and come back.”

  “Who we gon get to help us? You knows we have to share de reward if we does.”

  “It’s a lot of money, that reward, enough to share. We’ll get my brother Fred to help us. He’ll know how to do it.”

  “I think dat’s a right smart idea. Now let’s cross de creek and get outta dese woods.”

  We hadn’t walked quite a half mile down Center Point Road before Uncle Curvin pulled up beside us in his truck. “Hey, boys,” he greeted us. “Did y’all bring me some fish?”

  “Uh—no sir,” I told him as we tossed our sacks onto the back of his truck. “I’m afraid the fish wasn’t biting.”

  “Y’all fished all the way up that creek and didn’t catch any?”

  “We didn’t catch nary one fish, Mister Curvin,” Poudlum volunteered.

  It wasn’t really a lie, I thought. Of course we had not tried, but we still didn’t catch any fish.

  “Well, boys, that’s just the way it is,” my uncle said. “You never know exactly when the fish are going to bite. If we did we would only go fishing on those occasions. But I do have some good news for y’all.”

  I couldn’t imagine what kind of good news he had for us, but I wanted to know, and I was sure Poudlum did too. We climbed into the cab of the truck, and after it began rolling down the road I asked him, “What kind of good news, Uncle Curvin?”

  “I went up to the courthouse in Grove Hill early this morning,” he said as he shifted into third gear and released the clutch with his foot. “The trial for the bank robbers is gonna start tomorrow just like I said, and I have to be in court as a witness to testify against them.”

  “Ain’t you scared to do dat, Mister Curvin?” Poudlum asked.

  “Why would I be scared, son?”

  “What if dem bank robbers ever gets out of jail and come back looking for you for testifying against ’em?”

  “Yeah, what if that happens?” I agreed.

  “Well now, this is a good lesson in life for you boys. The lesson is that you got to do the right thing and not be afraid of the consequences. If you do right and something bad happens to you, you still know you done right. But chances are that if you do right, you won’t have to worry about that and will have peace of mind. On the other hand, if you do wrong, you gonna be worried all the time.”

  My uncle rambled on a lot, but I realized he was right. I could tell Poudlum did, too, by the way he was nodding his head.

  “What you think dey gon do wid dem bank robbers, Mister Curvin?” Poudlum asked.

  “In my opinion, I think they’ll send them off to prison for quite a spell.”

  “But they do get a trial to see if that happens, don’t they?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah, they’ll get a trial ’cause in the eyes of the law they’re innocent until they’re proven guilty.”

  “But you saw ’em do it!” I exclaimed. “You know they guilty!”

  “The wonderful thing about this country, boys, is what I told you about being innocent until you get proved guilty. Over across the ocean, where we all came from, it’s just the opposite. Over there you’re guilty until you prove yourself innocent.”

  “You think our way is better?” Poudlum asked.

  “Uh-huh, I do, because our way protects the innocent. And guilt or innocent is determined by a jury of twelve citizens, who after hearing all the evidence from both sides, make a decision. And even that decision can be appealed if just cause is shown.”

  “What’s an appeal?” I asked him.

  “An appeal means the final decision ain’t really final if a lawyer can find a reason to make it seem wrong. You see, boys, the worst thing in the world is for an innocent person to be punished for a deed they didn’t do, and in our country every possible effort is taken to see that don’t happen.”

  Riding down a dirt road in an old pickup truck, a crippled old war veteran had taught Poudlum and me something very important that no one had thought to teach us in school so far.

  When we passed Center Point Road Baptist Church I said, “Hey, Uncle Curvin, you said you had a surprise for us.”

  “Oh yes, I do. I’ve got a good surprise for both of y’all.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Courthouse

  I couldn’t imagine what kind of surprise Uncle Curvin had for Poudlum and me. He had already gotten us brand new pocket knives to replace the ones Jesse and Frank took from us. Maybe he was taking us to Miss Lena’s Store for a Nehi and a Moon Pie, but no, he would have just said that. It had to be something more special.

  “You say the surprise is for both of us, Uncle Curvin?”

  “Yep, you and Poudlum both,” he said as he grinned his toothless smile.

  It was as if he was taking satisfaction in keeping us in suspense while he just kept driving on down the road.

  “Well,” I told him, “what did you bring it up for if you ain’t gonna tell us what your surprise is?”

  “All right, all right,” he said. “Just keep your britches on. The surprise is that I got everything okayed with both y’all’s mommas,” Uncle Curvin said with glee.

  “What you talking about, Mister Curvin?” Poudlum piped up. “What you got okayed with our mommas?”

  We were at the bottom of the hill leading up to Center Point Road Baptist Church, leaving a cloud of dust behind us. Uncle Curvin depressed the clutch of the old truck and shifted into second gear so it would grind on up the hill. After he did that he said, “Remember how y’all said you would like to go see the trial of the bank robbers?”

  “Yes, sir, we remember,” I said eagerly.

  “Well, I fixed it so y’all can. The judge and the lawyers are selecting the jury today and the trial is going to start in the morning. Done talked to both your mommas about it and got their blessings for y’all to go up to Grove Hill with me and watch the trial.”

  Poudlum and I looked at each other and sparks flew between our eyes, because we knew we were going to get to see Jesse and Frank again, and this time they would be the ones trussed up so they couldn’t escape.

  “How in the world did you ever do that, Uncle Curvin?”

  “I told ’em it would be good for y’all’s education to see how the courts and our justice system works.”

  “And dey said okay to dat?” Poudlum asked with disbelief.

  “Uh-huh, they did, but I believe they did because they had other reasons in mind besides you boys learning something about how our court system works.”

  “What you mean by that?” I asked.

  “I think they both figured you boys would get into less devilment up there with me than you would rambling around in the woods and along the creeks.”

  Whatever the reason, Poudlum and I didn’t care. I could tell by his big grin that he was just as elated as I was about the adventure my uncle had made possible for
us.

  The old truck ground to a halt as its tires crunched on the gravel in front of Miss Lena’s Store.

  “Let’s go in and talk to Lena for a spell,” Uncle Curvin said as he fished around the floorboard searching for his walking stick. “I’ll treat you little fellers to a cold drink.”

  I selected a peach Nehi and Poudlum got a strawberry. We were sitting up on the red drink box slowly sipping on them while we listened to Miss Lena and Uncle Curvin talk.

  She was leaning on her counter between the cash register and a big round wooden case holding a hoop of cheese when she said, “Ain’t you worried, Curvin, to be going up there in that courtroom and testifying against them bank robbers?”

  My uncle replied to Miss Lena about the same way he had to Poudlum and me earlier, telling her, “I won’t be no more scared than I was when they were pointing that big scattergun at me during the robbery.”

  Miss Lena didn’t wear any lipstick or rouge, but she was still a pretty woman. Before she said anything else she took two big coconut cookies out of a large round glass jar, walked around from behind the counter and gave them to Poudlum and me to go with our drinks. She normally sold those cookies for two cents each.

  On her way back to her accustomed place behind the counter she said to Uncle Curvin, “Well, ain’t you scared that once they get out of prison they’ll come back here looking for the people who testified against them and put them there?”

  “Naw, I ain’t scared of that,” Uncle Curvin said. “Say, Lena, would you cut me a slice of that hoop cheese? Make it real thin cause you know I can’t chew it.”

  Uncle Curvin had begun devouring his cheese when Lena said, “It seems like old Judge Garrison could put that trial off till after the holidays. It’ll be Christmas before you know it. I know them folks on the jury won’t appreciate being tied up right up till Christmas Day.”

  “He’s too mule-headed to care about that, Lena. Having that trial is like a Christmas present to him.”

  “What’s that solicitor’s name?” Lena asked.

  “That would be Danny Pierce, Old Man Alton and Mrs. Vera’s boy.”

  “Is he any count?”