Music Welcome to Snewscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend.

This episode is brought to you by Diagonal Courses. Tonight, we'll read the opening to Sabotors on the River, written by Mildred A. Wurt and published in 1943. In this story, Sabotor's dynamite abridge and a man named Bert Ottman is accused of the crime based on evidence supplied by Penny. Penny feels that Bert is innocent, so she plans to find the culprits in order to exonerate Bert. Penny seeks the help of a man named Old Noah, who lives in an arc filled with animals while he awaits the second great flood. Old Noah plays a role in bringing the saboteurs to justice. If you enjoy this episode, be sure to check out our other Penny Parker series episodes by searching for our show titled, Snewscast Presents Penny Parker, wherever you listen to Snewscast. Or you can find Penny at snewscast.com slash series. And if you sign up for snewscast.com slash plus, you'll be able to listen to Penny Parker and all our other series, Add Free. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Chapter 1 Trouble of Float A girl in blue slacks, woolen sweater and tennis shoes strode jauntily along the creaking boards of the dark river dock. A large white cotton bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, added to the grace of the lie, young figure. Hi Penny, called a young man who tinkered with the engine of a motorboat. Out to bury the body. Penny parker chuckled and shifted the bag to the opposite shoulder. Just thought it would be a good night for a sail, Bill. Have you seen Louise side del sneaking around anywhere? Before the young sailor could answer, a voice shouted from the darkness. Here I am. Turning her head, Penny glimpsed her chum. Louise, warmly dressed, already was comfortably established in one of the small sailing boats tied up at the wharf. Time you're arriving. She said, accusing Lee as Penny tossed the sailbag into her hands. You promised to meet me here at eight o'clock. It's at least eight thirty now. Sorry, old deer. Penny leaped nimbley aboard, and with practiced fingers began to put up the main sale. After I phoned you I got hung up at home dishes and all that sort of thing. Then dad delayed me ten minutes while he lectured on the undesirability of daughter taking a moonlight sale. I gathered you gained the better of the argument. Louise Grandmother made me agree to wear a life preserver. Imagine, and there's barely enough wind stirring to whiff us across the river. For many years, Penny and Louise had been chums. Students at Riverview High School, they enjoyed the same sports, particularly swimming and sailing. The little Mahogany dinghy, appropriately named Pop's Worry, was owned by Penny's father, Anthony Parker, editor of Riverview's most enterprising newspaper, The Star. Together, with Mrs. Maud Weems, a housekeeper who had cared for Penny since her mother's death, he never felt entirely easy when the girls were on the river at night.

Nevertheless, Penny was an excellent sailor and rather gloried in the record that her boat had overturned only once during the past season. All said, she asked Louise, casting off the ropes one by one. As Penny shoved the boat away from the dock, the flapping sails stiffen to the breeze. Louise ducked her head to avoid the swinging boom. Bill Evans watching from shore called a friendly warning. If you're planning to sail down river, better not get too close to Thompson's bridge. The new regulations say 75 feet. We'll give it a wide berth, responded Penny. She sailed the boat out through the slip into the main channel of the Big Bear River. When well beyond the dock she commented sadly, poor old Bill, always giving advice, guess he can't help it. His boat's just a leaky tub," replied Louise.

I hear it some twice while tied up to the dock. One has to feel sorry for him and treat him with kindness. Penny steered, pops worry in a diagonal course downstream. On either side of the shore, from houses, factories, and a nearby amusement park, lights twinkled and were reflected on the unruffled surface of the water. The breeze was soft and warm. The stars seemed very close. Overhead, a disc of orange moon rode lazily, now and then dodging behind a fleecy cloud. It's a perfect night to sail. Louis said, snuggling amid the cushions. Wish we'd brought the phonograph along. Aha, Penny agreed. Her gaze on an approaching motorboat. The oncoming craft showed no lights. Uncertain that the pilot would see Pops worry, she focused the beam of her flashlight high on the main sail. The motorboat altered its course instantly and completely. Instead of turning only enough to avoid the sailing craft, It circled in a sharp arc and sped toward the opposite shore. There, it was lost to view amid a dark fringe of trees. It's against the regulations to cruise without lights. Penny commented,

wonder who piloted that boat. Whoever he was, you seemed to frighten him away. He did turn tail when he saw my light. Penny agreed, scanning the distant shore. I imagine the boat came from Ottmen's.

At least it looked like one of theirs. Ottman's. A nautical supply shop and boat rental dock was well known, not only to the girls, but to all sailors who plied nearby waters, owned and operated by a brother and sister, Sarah and Bert Ottman, the establishment provided canoes, sea skiffs and row boats, to all who were able to pay the hourly rate. Because many of the would-be boatmen were more venture-some than experienced, season sailors were inclined to eye such pilots with distrust. Careful Penny, Louise called, as she saw the main sail began to flap in the wing. You're loving! Reminded of her duties as Steersman, Penny headed the little boat on its course once more. As the sail again became taught, she noticed a small object floating in the water directly ahead. At first she could not be certain what it was, and then she decided that it must be a corked bottle. Deliberately Penny steered close to the object,

remarking that a bottle would create a hazard for the propellers of a motorboat. She reached to snatch it from the water. The current, however, swung it just beyond her reach. She exclaimed in annoyance.

I want that bottle. Oh, what do you care? Louise demanded with a shrug. Someone else will fish it out. It could do a great deal of damage. Besides, as it floated past, I thought I saw a piece of paper inside. If you aren't the same old penny, T's Louise, always looking for a mystery, I suppose you think Yonder Bothell bears a note telling where pirates buried their treasure. Probably just a paper requesting, please write to your lonely pen bell. All the same, I must find out. Keeping her eye on the floating bottle, Penny skillfully brought the boat about. Take the tiller a minute please. She requested her tromb. Not without misgivings. Louise reached for the long steering-stick. Although she occasionally handled Pops' worry, she never felt confident of her ability as a sailor. An unexpected puff of wind or a sudden tilt of the boat could send her into a state. Grab that old bottle and don't take 20 years, she urged nervously. Penny leaned far out over the boat in an attempt to reach the bottle. Her weight tilted the light craft low into the water. Louise hastily shifted to the opposite side as a counterbalance, and in so doing, released the main sheet. The boom promptly swung out. Penny made a lunge for the running sheet but could not prevent disaster. The end of the boom dipped into the water. As the sail became wet and heavy, it slowly pulled the boat after it. We're going over. Louis shrieked scrambling for the high side. We are over corrected penny, sadly. Both girls had been tossed into the water. Louis protected by a life preserver, immediately grasped the overturned boat and even saved her hair from getting wet. Penny, however, swam after the bobbing bottle. A moment later, she came back, triumphantly hugging it against her chest. It's a blue pop bottle, Louise. She announced, grasping her chums extended hand, and there is a piece of paper on side. You and that stupid old bottle, Louise, retorted. I guess it was my fault we upset, but you never should have turned the tiller over to me. Oh, who minds a little upset? I do, Louise said, crossly. The water's cold, and we're at least a quarter of a mile from shore. No boats close by either. Oh, we can get out of this by ourselves. Penny returned, undismade. Hold my bottle while I try to haul in the sail. I'd like to uncoork your precious bottle and drop it to the bottom of the river. Nevertheless, while her chum worked with the hallured, Louise held tightly to the little object which had caused all the trouble. Neither in shape nor size was the bottle unusual, but the paper it contained did arouse her curiosity.

Though she never would have admitted it, she too wondered if it might bear an interesting message. After pulling in the heavy water-soaked sail, the girls climbed to the high side of the boat,

trying by their combined weight to write it. Time and again they failed.

At last, breathless and cold, they admitted that the task was beyond their strength.

Let's shout for help, Louise proposed, watching the distant shorelights.

All right, a great penny, but I doubt anyone will hear us. My, we're drifting down river fast. The girl shouted many times. There were no boats near. Not even the motorcraft they had observed a few minutes earlier. The swift current seemed to be swinging them directly towards Thompson's bridge. A watchman always is on guard their night and day. Penny commented, scanning the arching steel structure. If the old fellow is in a sleep, he should see us as we drift by. Louise was too cold and miserable to answer.

However, she rather unwillingly held the blue bottle while Penny swam and tried to guide the overturned boat toward shore. When the girls were fairly close to the bridge, they began to shout once more. Although they could see automobiles moving to and fro across the Great Archway, no one became aware of their plight. Then there came an answering shout from above. A powerful beam of light played over the water, cutting a bright path. Help! Scream Louise waving an arm. Halt, oral fire! Ring out the Terce command from the bridge. Hold, hold cried Penny to exasperated,

to consider the significance of the order.

That's what we'd like to do, but we can't.

The searchlight came to rest on the overturned sailboat.

The girls were so blinded that for a moment they could see nothing. Then the searchlight shifted slightly to the left and they were able to distinguish a short, stoop-shouldered man who peered over the railing of the bridge. Apparently satisfied that their plate was genuine. He called reassuringly, okay, take it easy. I'll heave you a line. The watchman disappeared into the little bridge house. Soon he reappeared and with excellent aim tossed a weighted rope so that it fell squarely across the overturned boat. Penny seized an end and made it fast. I'll try to pull you in, the watchman shouted. Just hang on. Leaving his post on the bridge, the old fellow climbed down a steep incline to the muddy shore. By means of the long rope, he slowly and laboriously pulled the water-logged boat with the clinging girls toward a quiet cove. Once within waiting depth, the chums aided the watchman by leading the craft in. Together, the three of them beeched, Pomp's worry on a narrow strip of sand. Thanks, penny-gast, flipping a wet curl from off her freckled nose. On second thought, many, many thanks've no business to get so close to the bridge. The watchman retorted. It's again the regulations. I could have you arrested. But it wasn't our fault this old sailboat upset. Penny returned, reasonably. We were reaching for a floating bottle. Oh, my aunt! Where is that bottle, Louise? Don't tell me we've lost it! Her chum was given no opportunity to reply, for at that moment a motorboat roared down the river at high speed. Its throttle was wide open, and it appeared to be racing straight toward the bridge. Halt shouted the watchmen. Halt! The pilot did not obey the command. Instead, to the amazement of the watchers, he leaped from a cockpit and swam for the opposite shore. Then piloted boo, its helm securely lashed, drove straight on its course. It's going to strike the bridge, shouted Louise. As the boat raced on into one of the massive concrete piers, there came an explosion. the girder shivered and shook. Cables rattled. On the eastern

approach, brakes screamed as automobiles were brought to a sudden halt. Sabotors! The watchman cried, whorcely. They've done it. Dynamite it the bridge. Chapter 2. Front Page News Although one of the main concrete piers had been damaged by the explosion, approaches to the bridge remained intact. Several automobiles drew up at the curbing, but others, their drivers unaware of what had caused the blast, sped it on across. From their position beneath the bridge, Louise, Penny, and the watchman could see the entire steel structure quiver. The underpinning had been weakened, but whether or not it was safe for traffic to proceed, only an engineer could determine.ent, we stopped the cars. Penny demanded. For the watchman seemed stunned by what had happened. His eyes were fixed on the opposite shore. At a point amid the trees, where the pilot of the motorboat had crawled from the water. Yes, yes, he muttered, bringing his attention once more to the bridge. No chance to catch that saboteur now. We must stop the autos. shouting as he ran. The watchman scrambled up the steep slope to the western approach of the bridge, realizing that he would be unable to cope with traffic moving from two directions, the girls hesitated and then decided to help him. wet shoes provided poor traction on the hill. Slipping, sliding, clothing plastered to their bodies. They reached the bridge level. You hold the cars at this end, ordered the watchmen as he glimpsed them, I'll lower the gate at the other side. Stationing themselves at the entrance to the bridge, Louise and Penny forced motorists to hold at the curb. in a minute or two, a long line had formed. What's wrong? Demanded one irate driver and accident. Bridge damaged. Penny replied, Tursely. All along the line horns began to tut. A few of the more curious motorists allighted and came to bombard the girls with questions. In the midst of the excitement, one of the cars broke out of line and crept to the very end of the pavement. Listen, mister! Penny began indignantly to the driver. You'll have to back up. You can't cross. She broke off as she recognized the man at the wheel. Dad? Well, for Pete's sake. Penny, the newspaper man exclaimed. No less dumbfounded. What are you and Louise doing here and in those wet clothes? Policing the bridge, Dad, there's a big story for you here.

A saboteur just blew up one of the piers by ramming it with a motorboat. I thought I heard an explosion as I was driving down Clark Street. Exclaimed Mr. Parker. Opening the car door, he leapt out and wrapped his overcoat about Penny's shivering shoulders. Now tell me exactly what happened. As calmly as they could, the girls reported how the saboteur had dynamited the bridge. This is a front page story. The newspaper owner cried jubilantly. Penny, you and Louise take my car and scoot for home. When you get there call the star office. Have editor DeWitt send a reporter to me. Jerry Livingston if he's around will need a cracked photographer too salt summers. I can get the call through much quicker by running to the drugstore. Penny jerked her head toward a cluster of buildings not far from the bridge entrance. As for going home at a moment like this, never. So you want a case of pneumonia? Mr. Parker barked. How'd you get wet anyhow? Sailbone. Penny answered, briefly. took the car keys from her father and pressed them upon Louise. But I don't want to go if you don't. Her trauma argued. You're more susceptible to pneumonia than I am. Penny said, giving her a little push.

Dash on home and get into warm, dry clothing.

And don't forget to take off that life preserver before you hop into bed.

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