Young Bobby Cole, playing hooky from school, patiently awaited his chums in the heart of Big Joe Swamp. He was accompanied by his good Scottish terrier, Sgt. Johnson, who was phlegmatically announcing a presence in the brushes to the left of his master. Young Bobby picked up a long stick he espied on the ground, and whipped out his penknife. Using a couple of reeds, he fasted it to the end of the pole, and after a few knots, he had a makeshift spear. Expertly poking in the bushes, waiting for the roar of the gator he knew lurked there, Young Bobby was quite surprised when his stick stuck at something with a squelch. After a few pokes, Young Bobby withdrew his stick and examined the slightly discolored tip. He advanced on the bushes with an interested look, and before Sgt. Johnson could cry a warning, Young Bobby was running as fast as he could.

Officer Jennings was daydreaming about that nice bottle of whiskey waiting for him at home, when Young Bobby ran up, screaming. The young officer awoke with a start, and listened dazedly as Bobby gibbered about a body in the swamp. Jennings grabbed his cap, holstered his pistol, and left a quick note to the Chief. It was three minutes later, when they were in the good policeman’s car, when Officer Jennings asked Bobby why he wasn’t in school. He noticed an abrupt change in Bobby’s demeanor, which at first was scared and excited, to dull and hopeless. He said that he was not at liberty to discuss the matter, and would duly inform the officer when he had an answer to his query. Jennings, a little taken aback, drove on in stunned silence, until he realized that he was the adult. He tried to reprimand the boy when he noticed something very strange: Young Bobby was no longer in the passenger seat.

Braking to a halt, Officer Jennings cursed violently. He knew the boy had slipped out the door when he wasn’t looking, and was already at least a mile ahead of him. He weighed his options: go back and try and find Young Bobby, keep heading to the swamp, or return to the station. He decided the body was his first priority, and kept on driving. He would call Young Bobby’s parents when he got back, and he chuckled at the punishment the boy would get from his mother, Mrs. Abigail Quail Cole.

Meanwhile, Young Bobby was laughing his head off, and telling Sgt. Johnson how devious his scheme was, and congratulating himself on outwitting the lawman. As he worked his way through the woods by the roadside, Young Bobby thought of what to do now. He couldn’t go back to the swamp, and didn’t need to, as he still had his penknife. He couldn’t go to school, because he would receive thirty lashes from the principal for playing hooky, and another thirty for untidiness. He most certainly could not go home, where his mother waited with a belt. So, he made his way to his secret lair deep in the woods, which was, in truth, a sheet of rusty iron propped against a flat, massive rock, with a pile of rubble serving for a third wall, and a bent tree for a trapdoor entrance. Their flag consisted of underpants hanging from a tree in the middle with red lipstick forming the words “Young Bobby Cole” scrawled on them.

When he reached his lair, he found himself with guests. There was Boot Sole Jim, Flat Nose, Green Toe, and even Hairy Curtis. Plus, they had brought some presents: a tin can, seven rusted-over chain links, a piece of a fence, and a terrified, hog-tied five year old. Grinning, Young Bobby began to tell a tale, the tale of Bobby’s Body.

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