title: The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp
author:  Kathi Appelt 
description: * "This delicious, richly detailed story is told in 104 short chapters, which swing the plot beautifully from one thread to the next and keep the action moving. Appelt's omniscient third-person narration exudes folksy, homespun warmth while also feeling fresh and funny. A satisfying romp."<br /><br />* "In a honeyed dialect, the omnipresent narrator directly engages readers, ricocheting between the hilarious human and critter dramas to a riotous finale. A rollicking, ripping tall tale with ecological subtext."<br /><br />"Appelt 'nailed it.' She has weaved a delightful yarn with a cast of affable characters and somehow manages to make a rusted 1949 DeSoto in a Louisiana swamp a cozy home for two raccoon scouts--absolutely charming."--Harry Bliss, "New Yorker" illustrator and illustrator of "Diary of a Worm"<br /><br />"Kathi Appelt's amazing lyrical language with that perfect Southern cadence draws us deeper and deeper into the world of Sugar Man Swamp. Hilarious and heartfelt, Bingo and J'Miah draw you into their home, into the swamp and we care about each creature as though they are family."--Na An, author of the Michael L. Printz Award-winning and National Book Award finalist "A Step from Heaven"<br /><br />"Kathi Appelt's prose rolls like swamp mist and molasses. A sweet and tangy American classic."--Peter H. Reynolds, creator of "The Dot" and illustrator of "Someday"
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  [Contents](0671318276_toc.htm)
  
  # 7  THE BADLANDS
  
  As they left the river the rest of the scouts fanned out. Only Kana continued
  with Bogate. He was a supernumerary in this operation, his duties beginning if
  and when they found traces of intelligent life. To his surprise, instead of
  ignoring his presence entirely, Bogate waited for him to catch up, asking:
  
  "Just what do we look for?"
  
  "Hansu thinks we may find Costhey're a pygmy race supposed to inhabit these
  mountainshate the Llor and are highly dangeroususe poison darts and build
  mantraps."
  
  Bogate's reply to the sketchy information was a grunt. The wind was rising in
  gusts which whistled eerily between the heights, propelling the migrating
  puff-ballscircular masses of spiky vines which traveled so until they found
  water where they could root for a season. Of a sickly, bleached, yellow-green,
  they were armed with six-inch thorns and the Terrans granted them the right of
  