The unfortunate accident had somewhat dampened the high spirits of the Cubs. Abruptly, Red announced that it was time for him to go home. His departure also was a signal for the others to leave.
Dan walked with Chub, telling him again not to worry about the smashed glass.
“It shouldn’t cost much to repair the damage,” he declared. “I’ll see Old Terry about it right away. No use waiting.”
“I’ll go with you,” Chub offered. “I can’t let you take all the blame.”
The Treuhaft cottage had a deserted appearance as the boys approached. Old Terry had abandoned his fence building and all his tools had been put away. Though Dan pounded repeatedly on the door, there was no answer.
“He’s off somewhere,” Dan commented. “Oh, well, no use waiting. I’ll come back here tomorrow after church.”
The boys parted, Chub returning to the widow’s home at the outskirts of Webster City.
Dan sauntered on alone, enjoying the nice air and thinking about the events of the day. He liked Chub and intended to look out for him. All the same, it struck him as odd that the boy never revealed anything about himself. Why had Mr. Hatfield requested that no questions be asked? Did he have special information about Chub that he was keeping to himself?
“I’m getting as curious as an old tabby cat,” Dan chided himself. “Guess I’ll have all I can do to look after my own affairs.”
His way took him past the old church. Dan had no intention of stopping. Nevertheless, he did glance toward the belfry, visible through the half-naked trees.
“Queer about that tapping bell,” he mused. “I know I heard it. Since it couldn’t have been the wind, a bird must have flown against the clapper.”
The explanation satisfied Dan for the moment, and he smiled in relief. How naive Chub had been to suggest a ghost! Not that the old decaying church didn’t have an eerie appearance with its dead vines and look of utter desolation.
Bushes had overgrown nearly all of the church walls. The mass of crimson and yellow leaves against stone and brick made a pretty splash of color, Dan thought. But Old Terry really should whack down the brush a bit, even with winter coming on.
Dan’s thoughts were roving, when suddenly his attention focused upon a tall, mis-shapen evergreen at the west side of the old building. He halted to stare.
The little tree was moving jerkily, as if alive.
“What the dickens?” Dan muttered.
As he watched, a shadowy figure slithered from behind the foliage and vanished toward the graveyard.
Dan stood very still for a moment, staring fixedly at the place where the shadowy figure had disappeared. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, or for that matter whether he had observed anything.
Had his approach frightened away someone who had been loitering at the rear windows of the old church? So far as he could see from the road, no one now was lurking in the cemetery. However, the tilted tombstones offered many hiding places.
Dan briefly considered ambling over to study the layout but decided against it. The hour was late and he was due home. Besides the old church stood in an isolated area, easily accessible to tramps who might come up the slope from the river area.
“No use asking for trouble,” he thought. “Whoever was prowling around, probably wasn’t doing any harm.”
Dan waited a few minutes longer, thinking he might again glimpse the elusive figure. Seeing no one, he trudged on home.
Sunday was a pleasant, quiet day in the Carter household. Dan attended church school in the morning as was his usual custom.
After that came a big dinner, and then a half hour spent with the funnies. Suddenly he dropped the newspaper as if its pages were charged with electricity.
“Wow!”
“What’s wrong, Dan?” his Mother inquired from across the room.
“I forgot something important. I’ve got to rush out to Terry Treuhaft’s place right away!”
“Can’t it wait?”
Dan shook his head and explained about the broken window. “I promised the Cubs I’d take care of it first thing today, Mom. It sort of slipped my mind. I’ll go right now.”
He fished two precious dollar bills from his bank. The window shouldn’t cost half that much, he hoped. But to be on the safe side, he would take an extra dollar along.
“Do you want your father to drive you to the cottage?” his mother questioned.
“I don’t mind walking,” Dan replied. “See you later.”
Leaves were falling fast, dotting walks and highway. Dan shuffled through them, enjoying the soft crackle underfoot. He sucked in a deep breath, and then began to whistle because his spirits were high.
Terry Treuhaft was nowhere about when Dan came to the cottage. He rapped on the door. The knock was a bit more forceful than he had intended it to be.
Almost at once the door was opened by a stout woman in a checkered dress. Dan assumed she must be Mrs. Treuhaft and he could guess by the expression of her face that she was very annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to knock so hard.”
Mrs. Treuhaft did not smile or reply graciously as he had expected her to do. Instead, she fixed him with an unfriendly stare.
“What do you want?” she asked, not opening the door very wide.
Dan explained that he had come to see Mr. Treuhaft.
“He isn’t here and won’t be for awhile,” the woman answered shortly.
Dan reached for his pocketbook. “I want to pay for the window at the church,” he said. “Do you think a dollar will be enough?”
“Church window?” A strange light flickered in Mrs. Treuhaft’s steel gray eyes.
Dan started to tell her what had happened the previous day, but she cut him short.
“You think a dollar is enough to pay for the damage! Well, the very idea!”
“It was only a small window,” Dan said, startled by the intensity of the woman’s outburst. “But I’ll pay whatever you think it will cost to replace the glass. Two dollars maybe?”
“Two dollars! Why that wouldn’t begin to do it. The damage was enormous! Simply enormous! My husband was furious when he learned of it. For your information, he’s talking to the church trustees about it now.”
Dan could not understand why such a fuss was being made about a window pane. Hadn’t he offered to pay? Why, the incident was being blown up out of all proportion!
“You have a nerve coming here and offering me a dollar!” the woman went on angrily. “But it proves one thing. You admit you did the damage?”
“Why, yes, we broke the window. It was an accident. We were playing with a basketball and it went wild, through the glass.”
“That’s all I want to know.” The woman nodded with grim satisfaction and closed the door in Dan’s face.
A moment later she flung it open again to add severely: “You’ll hear more about this later!”
Then she closed the door again.
Puzzled by the woman’s strange behavior, Dan started slowly home. He was sorely troubled to learn that the Treuhafts meant to make so much of the accident. What sum, he wondered, could they demand for a broken window? If two dollars wasn’t enough to pay for the glass, he’d really have to dig deep into his savings.
“Why, when I drove a baseball through Mrs. Simpson’s basement window last Spring she charged me only seventy-five cents,” he reflected. “I guess a church window must be something special. But that window wasn’t stained glass—just ordinary.”
Dan decided not to tell Chub how much the mishap was to cost. He was quite sure the new Cub had little or no spending money, and couldn’t be expected to help out in any case. Anyway, he’d offered to pay for the damage. Since the money had been refused, the next move would be up to Mr. Treuhaft.
Monday night when Dan went to the church gymnasium for basketball practice, he still was brooding about the unfortunate accident. However, he did not disturb the other boys by relating what had happened. The Cubs tried free throws and worked out a team play which didn’t go too smoothly.
Finally, everyone went upstairs for a special meeting Mr. Hatfield had called. Though the business session had been set for four-thirty sharp, the leader had not yet arrived. This was unusual, for Mr. Hatfield made a point of punctuality.
The boys talked over interesting places they had thought up for the Den to visit. As time dragged on and still Mr. Hatfield did not come, Brad tried to keep the Cubs interested by discussing plans for the Friday night party.
“Anyone found an ice cream freezer yet?” he asked the group.
“We know there are a couple at the old church,” Midge finally said. “We should be able to get those.”
“Don’t count on it,” Dan interposed. “Old Terry Treuhaft has it in for us. He’s really steaming.”
“Terry’s down on the Cubs?” Brad questioned in surprise. “Why?”
The Cubs looked embarrassed, reluctant to explain. When Brad pressed his inquiry, Chub stammered:
“It—it was all my fault. I threw a basketball through the church window.”
“The blame was partly mine, and I’m paying for it,” Dan said quickly. “I went out to Treuhaft’s place yesterday. He wasn’t there and his wife was pretty snippy with me. So I figure we won’t get those freezers now.”
“There must be others in Webster City. But we’ll have to hustle if we get them in time for Friday. Guess I’d better name a special committee to look after the job and see that the ice cream is ready in time for the party. Any volunteers?”
“I’ll do my best,” Dan offered.
“Good! I’ll appoint Chub, Red and Chips to help you. Fred and Midge are to look up the matter of getting ice and rock salt. Mrs. Holloway has promised to help with the ice cream mixture. What kind’ll we have?”
“Tutti fruiti,” piped up Chips.
“You would think of something like that, you drip!” Midge accused. “We’re having something simple like vanilla.”
“Let’s compromise on strawberry,” Brad suggested. “All in favor, say ‘aye.’ Opposed? The ayes have it.”
By this time it was ten minutes to five, and the Cubs began to shift uneasily in their chairs. Mr. Hatfield never had been so late before.
“I’ll bet he’s been in an auto accident,” Chips began to speculate. “Something has happened or he’d be here.”
“I could telephone his house,” Brad said reluctantly.
He was debating the matter when the Cubs heard an outside church door open and close.
“There he is now,” Brad exclaimed in relief.
Mr. Hatfield came into the meeting room, his gaze sweeping the semi-circle of expectant Cubs.
“I am sorry to be late, boys.” He spoke stiffly, and in an oddly subdued tone of voice.
The Cubs knew instantly that something was wrong. Mr. Hatfield didn’t seem at all his usual pleasant, easy-going self. His lips were drawn into a tight line of disappointment and he was unsmiling.
“We thought something had happened to you,” Brad remarked. “Shall we start the meeting with a song or the pledge of allegiance?”
“No, it’s too late for a meeting now,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “We have a very important matter to discuss.”
The Cubs became most attentive, aware that for some reason the group had incurred the leader’s displeasure. As Mr. Hatfield’s gaze swept the semi-circle it lingered for a moment on Dan. The boy had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being singled out for attention. Had Old Terry Treuhaft complained about the window perhaps?
“Boys, I’ve just come from an unpleasant meeting,” Mr. Hatfield said. “I was on my way here when I received a telephone call, asking me to stop at the office of Richard W. Brady.”
“The lawyer?” interposed Brad, recognizing the name.
Mr. Hatfield nodded and went on: “Mr. Brady represents the trustees of the Christian Church.”
Dan felt a cold lump come into his throat. So his hunch had been right! Old Terry Treuhaft had made trouble about the window.
“I’ve had a most uncomfortable half hour,” Mr. Hatfield resumed. “Mr. Brady has accused our organization of some very dishonorable acts. To put it concisely, he’s threatening to sue for $20,000!”
Mr. Hatfield’s blunt announcement electrified the Cubs. For a moment no one spoke and then there was a buzz of excited conversation. Everyone talked at the same time, demanding details.
“I can’t tell you very much,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “Mr. Brady said two of the church trustees came to him this morning, asking that he place their complaint before the Scout organization. The trustees insist that Cub Scouts visited the church grounds Saturday and did a great deal of damage. They demand a settlement of their claim, or they’ll sue.”
“Twenty thousand for a broken window?” Dan demanded. “Why, that’s crazy!”
“Those old trustees are out of their heads!” Red added furiously.
“More than a single window is involved,” Mr. Hatfield informed the Cubs. “Statues were broken, the attorney said, and at least three of the large stained-glass windows.”
“But that’s impossible!” Dan cried.
“We only broke one tiny little window,” Red added.
“Start at the beginning and tell me everything,” Mr. Hatfield ordered. “Who went out to the church Saturday?”
“I planned the hike,” Dan confessed. “Brad and Fred couldn’t go. Chips, Chub, Midge, Red and myself were the only ones.”
“You were after an ice cream freezer the attorney said.”
“That’s right. We asked Mr. Treuhaft if we could borrow a couple that are stored in the basement. He was busy and told us to come back later.”
“After he turned you down, did you try to break into the church?”
“We certainly didn’t,” Dan denied indignantly.
“We just ate lunch there and tossed my basketball around a little while,” Red contributed. “Chub made a bad throw and broke a window. That’s all there was to it, except that Dan said he’d pay for it.”
“I tried,” Dan took up the story. “Yesterday I went to Old Terry’s place. He wasn’t there, but his wife refused the money.”
“Has anyone returned to the church since the group left there Saturday?” the Cub leader inquired.
“I went past once on my way from Mr. Treuhaft’s place,” Dan answered. “That was Sunday.”
“Did you see anyone around the premises?”
“Why, no.” The questioned surprised Dan. “No person,” he amended. “I did see a sort of shadow moving away toward the graveyard. It might have been a person or an animal or—”
“Or a ghost?” interposed Midge, half teasingly.
The other Cubs however, were in no mood for his joke.
“How could the trustees threaten to sue for twenty thousand dollars?” Brad asked, deeply troubled. “Why, it’s silly! Anyway, they haven’t a chance of collecting, because we don’t have twenty dollars, much less twenty thousand.”
“They’re threatening to bring a court action against the entire Scout organization,” Mr. Hatfield explained. “The Scout treasury by coincidence has almost exactly twenty thousand. The money is in a special building fund.”
“Mr. Brady knew that!” Dan exploded. “That’s why he’s demanding so much.”
“Perhaps,” the Cubmaster agreed. “But any way we look at it, this is serious business. The honor of our Den is at stake.”
“How can they blame us for something we didn’t do?” Midge demanded.
Mr. Hatfield assured the Cubs that he believed their story that only one window had been broken.
“I’m driving out to the church now to see for myself how much damage has been done,” he announced. “Who wants to ride along?”
Because it was nearing the dinner hour, only Brad, Dan, Fred and Chips elected to go.
The sun was riding low in the sky by the time the automobile reached the church grounds. Mr. Hatfield parked along the main road, and the boys walked up the broken front walk.
“Twenty thousand, of course, is a ridiculous figure to demand,” Mr. Hatfield remarked, following the Cubs. “I doubt the property is worth much more than that, including the land. The trustees have been trying to sell it for nearly two years, and haven’t yet found a buyer.”
“So they’re taking it out on us!” Chips said resentfully.
The walk curved and the Cubs obtained a clear view of the old building. Dan, slightly ahead of the others, halted abruptly, dismayed by what he saw.
Not one, but half a dozen small windows had been smashed. The rainbow-hued glass of a circular, stained window had been broken too.
“Someone else did that!” he exclaimed. “No wonder the trustees are sore!”
“It’s unfair to blame the Cubs,” Chips declared.
The boys circled the old church, noting evidence of extensive damage. With so many windows smashed, entry into the building itself could not be prevented.
Chips started to crawl through one of the larger openings, but Mr. Hatfield hauled him back.
“We’re in deep enough now,” he said severely. “Don’t make it worse.”
It was well that Chips was prevented from crawling through the window, for a few minutes later, an automobile pulled up at the side entrance of the building.
Terry Treuhaft and two men the Cubs did not recognize, came over to the group.
“The church trustees, I think,” Mr. Hatfield advised in a whisper.
His guess was correct. The two elderly men proved to be Elwin Maxwell and Joshia Brennan. The newcomers spoke curtly to Mr. Hatfield and ignored the Cubs completely.
Old Terry unlocked the front church door with a massive key so that the trustees could enter. Though not invited to do so, the Cubs followed close behind.
In the vestibule a marble statue lay smashed. Plaster either had fallen of its own weight or had been knocked in ugly patches from the walls. Pews were overturned, a stair railing broken from its supports and a stack of old hymn books scattered.
“You see what they did!” Old Terry said to the two trustees. “I’ve been taking good care of this place. Now look at it!”
“We had nothing to do with this,” Dan said, trying to draw the attention of the trustees. “Absolutely nothing.”
“These were the boys,” Old Terry identified them for his employers. “They came out to my place to demand the key so they could get an ice cream freezer. When I denied it to ’em, they came here just the same and broke in.”
“We came here to eat our lunch on the grounds,” Dan replied, “but we didn’t break in.”
“You admit you broke a window?”
“One window. We didn’t do all this damage.”
“You were seen breaking in,” Old Terry insisted. “Some folks in the neighborhood saw your gang climbing through the windows and called the police. But you managed to get away before the wagon came.”
“You must have dreamed all that!” Chip gasped.
“What time was this supposed to have happened?” Dan demanded.
“You know well enough. Just about dusk.”
“We were home long before that,” Chips retorted. “So your story doesn’t hang together.”
Mr. Hatfield spoke quietly. “The Cubs have told me their version of what happened, and I believe it. Den 2 boys are honorable and truthful. I’m convinced they’re not responsible for this damage. Believe me, if I thought otherwise, I’d be the last to defend them.”
“You’ll have an opportunity to defend them in court,” Mr. Maxwell said acidly. “I don’t care to discuss this matter further. See our attorney, Mr. Brady.”
Mr. Hatfield knew that it would be a waste of breath to try to talk to the two trustees while they were in their present mood. He motioned for the Cubs to leave the church.
All filed out with exception of Brad, who had taken no part in the conversation with the trustees. He had busied himself at the rear of the church, inspecting an overturned pew which had caught his attention.
“Coming, Brad?” Mr. Hatfield asked.
“Be right with you,” the Den Chief replied.
Even then he lingered for a moment. When finally he came outside, he seemed very thoughtful.
“What’s the matter, Brad?” Dan questioned him. “You’re so quiet. You don’t think we wrecked the church do you?”
“Of course not.”
“You’re acting sort of queer. What kept you in the church, Brad? You were looking at that bench a long while.”
“I found something too.”
“You did?” Dan became eager. “What was it, Brad? Anything that might help clear the Cubs?”
“I don’t know,” Brad replied slowly. “It might not have any significance, and then again, it could.”
“What did you find?”
“You’ll keep it under your hat?”
“Of course.”
Brad lowered his voice. “On that overturned pew I noticed some freshly carved initials. They were ‘P. O.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“‘P. O.,’” Dan thoughtfully repeated the initials. “The only thing that pops into my mind is Post Office.”
“That’s hardly what I meant,” Brad replied, smiling. “The letters were freshly carved. I could tell from the color of the wood. Besides, there were tiny splinters on the floor.”
Dan surged with excitement as he realized the importance of the Den Chief’s discovery. Since the initials had been cut so recently, it must mean that they had been carved by the person or persons who had wrecked the church.
“I know of only one person with the initials ‘P. O.’,” Brad said significantly. “Can’t you guess?”
“Not Pat Oswald?”
“Who else? Of course we have no proof.”
“Pat and his gang might have been here after the Cubs left last Saturday! Say, that could have been what happened! They wrecked the place and we get blamed.”
“That’s the way I figure it,” Brad nodded. “But as I said, we have no proof.”
“Let’s tell the trustees.”
“That’s for Mr. Hatfield to decide, Dan. This accusation against the Cubs is dead-serious business and we can’t make any false moves. If we’d charge Pat with this, we might be called on to prove our claims. Could we do that?”
“Not yet, I guess.”
“That’s why we must keep a tight lip and see what we can learn.”
Dan knew that Brad’s reasoning was sound. Though they suspected Pat and the group of boys he ran with, they certainly could not prove it. Inquiry in the neighborhood, however, might bring to light additional clues.
Mr. Hatfield, unaware of Brad’s discovery, was still talking to Old Terry and the trustees. His efforts to convince them of the Cubs’ innocence was unavailing. The only concession that the church officials made was to agree that the Cubmaster might appear before the entire church board the following Wednesday.
Breaking off the conversation, the trustees drove away.
Old Terry, left behind, began to assert his authority.
“Now you boys get off this property!” he directed. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
“It’s unfair to accuse us!” Chips said furiously. “We didn’t do the damage, and you should know it! Cubs aren’t hoodlums.”
“You wanted that freezer, and you didn’t care how many windows you smashed to get in!”
“That just isn’t so,” Dan declared. “We never did get the freezers. Like enough they’re still in the basement. Have you looked?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why don’t you?” Chips demanded. “I guess that would prove—”
“It wouldn’t prove anything,” the caretaker retorted, locking the church door. “Now begone, will you?”
“Come along, boys,” Mr. Hatfield said quietly. “No use arguing about this affair. Everything will be taken up at the meeting Wednesday.”
Decidedly downcast, the Cubs followed their leader to the car. During the ride into Webster City, they assured him repeatedly that they were innocent of the charges against them.
“I believe you,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Don’t worry too much about it. I think—I hope at any rate—that everything can be explained and adjusted. Unfortunately, Elwin Maxwell is a very stubborn man.”
“He’s chairman of the board too, isn’t he?” Brad recalled.
“Yes, I gather he is the one who is pressing the suit.”
Even the thought of a twenty thousand dollar claim filed against the Scout organization dismayed the Cubs. If such action were taken, there would be unpleasant newspaper publicity and court sessions. The Cubs would be given a black-eye in the community. Even if they later were cleared, they might never completely live it down.
“How about the party for our folks Friday?” Dan presently asked. “Now that we’re in this mess, shall we drop our plans?”
“Absolutely not, Dan.”
“So far we haven’t any ice cream freezers.”
“We’ll get them somewhere. If necessary, we’ll buy ice cream at the drugstore. The party goes on exactly as planned.”
The Cubs brightened at this decision and began to discuss ways and means of clearing themselves of the outrageous charge against them. Brad told of the discovery he had made inside the church.
“Pat Oswald,” Mr. Hatfield mulled over the name. “I hadn’t thought of him. Brad, you may have hit upon something!”
“Do you think it will clear the Cubs?”
“I’m afraid not, Brad. But at least it gives us a starting point for our own investigation.” Mr. Hatfield stopped the car for a traffic light. Shifting gears to go on, he added: “Now, we must say nothing about finding the carved initials, boys. But see what information you can pick up about Pat and his gang.”
“Pat is known as a troublemaker,” Chips declared.
“We’ll need facts, not hearsay,” Mr. Hatfield reminded the boys. “By the way, when you fellows were out at the church Saturday, you didn’t notice anyone loitering around?”
“Not actually,” Dan said. “Chub thought he saw a ghost though. We rather made fun of him.”
“Maybe what he saw was someone hiding in the bushes,” Brad pointed out.
“That’s so,” Dan agreed. He hadn’t intended to mention his own experience, but now decided to tell about seeing the shadowy figure slithering toward the graveyard.
He related the incident hesitantly, half expecting the Cubs to tease him. No one did.
“Obviously, you didn’t see a ghost,” Mr. Hatfield commented. “You probably caught a glimpse of one of those hoodlums, Dan.”
“Funny thing though,” Dan replied meditatively. “The shadow I saw didn’t look like a boy ghost. The figure was rather tall and thin. I had the queerest feeling at the time, almost the same as I did today—”
“What do you mean, ‘as you did today?’” Brad alertly tripped him up.
The remark had slipped from Dan unintentionally. He certainly didn’t want the Cubs to think that he was jittery. Or that he was imagining things. He remained silent.
“Come on, give!” Brad commanded.
“It was nothing really.”
“You did see someone again today at the church?”
“No,” Dan answered. “It was just a feeling I had while we were in the church. You’ll laugh I know, but I had the strangest feeling that we were being watched.”
“Watched?” said Mr. Hatfield. “By whom?”
“I can’t explain it. As I said, it was just a feeling. I—I felt as if everything we said and did inside that building was being noted.”
“That was imagination, I’m afraid,” Mr. Hatfield smiled. “I can understand the feeling though. The church interior was quiet and filled with strange echoes. Don’t give it too much thought Dan.”
Feeling slightly rebuked, Dan made no mention of the incident of the tapping bell. Nor did Chips speak of it. Neither of them believed that there were ghosts either at the old church or anywhere.
One by one the Club leader dropped the boys off at their separate homes. He promised that the moment he had anything to report about the church matter, he would call a special meeting.
Meanwhile, the Cubs continued to make plans for the Friday night ice cream party. Search as they would, however, they could not locate even a single ice cream freezer.
“No hope of getting those two in the church basement either,” Dan gloomily remarked to Brad Tuesday night after school. The two boys stood at a street corner, books under their arms. “For that matter, I wouldn’t even ask Old Terry to borrow ’em now.”
“He’d just turn us down,” Brad agreed.
Unobserved by the two Cubs, Pat Oswald and a companion had come up behind them. As Dan turned he saw the pair and knew they deliberately had been listening.
“What’s that about Old Terry?” Pat asked.
“Nothing,” Dan replied shortly.
“Oh, I heard what you said. You want to borrow an old ice cream freezer from him, and he won’t let you have it.”
“Anything wrong in wanting a freezer?” Brad asked pleasantly. “Maybe you know where we can get one.”
“Maybe I do,” Pat grinned. “But I wouldn’t tell, not in a million years. I’d hate to be a Cub!”
“You’d hate to be one?” Dan demanded. Pat’s manner irritated him. He disliked the older boy’s smug smile and attitude of knowing-it-all. “Why?”
“Cubs are babies—little baby bears!”
“You don’t know anything about the organization!”
“Don’t I? Well, let me tell you a thing or two, Mr. Danny Boy Carter, everyone in Webster City has heard about the mess they’re in now!”
Dan and Brad were chagrined by this thrust. So the story had spread that church authorities had threatened to sue!
“The Cubs are sunk!” Pat chortled. “By the time the court gets through, there won’t be an organization left. It will serve you right, too, for wrecking the old church.”
“We didn’t do it, and you know it,” Dan retorted. “Say, weren’t you and your gang out that way last Saturday?”
“Who says so?” Pat returned, instantly on the defensive.
“You know plenty about what happened.”
“Only what I heard,” Pat replied. His bluster had faded away.
Dan was elated to note that his sharp question had worried the other. He would have pursued the matter further, but Pat and his friend moved off.
“You scored that time, Dan,” Brad said when they were alone again. “All the same, go easy in talking to him. If we’re to learn anything, we mustn’t give away what we suspect.”
“I’ll be more careful,” Dan promised. “Did you notice how he acted when I suggested that he’d been around the church Saturday?”
“I did, Dan. Tomorrow night I’m going out there again, and canvass the neighborhood. It may be that we can dig up someone who saw the damage being done. In that case, the Cubs could be cleared.”
“Pat and his gang were responsible, I’ll bet on that.”
“I think so myself,” Brad agreed. “But don’t forget, we must prove any charges we make.”
Though the Webster City newspapers carried only brief stories on the damage which had been done at the Christian Church, word of it spread very rapidly.
No mention had been made of the Cub organization or the threatened law suit in either the Webster City Herald or the Journal. Nevertheless, rumors circulated that the boys of Den 2 were responsible for the damage. The Cubs smarted under the humiliation.
“We’ll never live this down,” Midge said morosely the next afternoon as the Cubs waited in their clubroom.
Mr. Hatfield had called a special meeting and the boys were expecting him at any moment. He came in just then, so sober-faced that the Cubs instantly knew bad news awaited them.
“I’ve just come from talking to the church trustees,” he reported after hanging up his hat on the wall rack. “Our meeting was to have been later, but our lawyer arranged an earlier conference.”
“Our lawyer?” Brad asked, startled. “Do we have one?”
“The Scout organization has obtained the services of a very able attorney. We thought it best to employ counsel.”
“Then this accusation against us is really serious?” Brad questioned. The other Cubs, deeply worried, had gathered about in a tight, tense little group.
“Yes, it’s serious,” Mr. Hatfield admitted drawing a deep breath. “As I started to tell you, our lawyer and some of the Scout officials talked to the trustees.”
“Wouldn’t they listen to reason?” Red inquired.
“No. Several of the board members were inclined to accept our word that the Cubs wouldn’t and couldn’t have destroyed church property. Maxwell wouldn’t go along with the others. He’s determined to sue unless we pay for the damage.”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Chips muttered. “Why, that old wreck of a place isn’t worth half that amount!”
“I’m afraid it is, Chips. However, a damage claim of twenty thousand is ridiculous. Mr. Maxwell himself recognizes that, for he has offered to settle for ten thousand if the organization pays within ten days.”
“The old skinflint!” Red exclaimed.
“We’ve refused,” Mr. Hatfield went on. “The next move is up to the trustees. All we can do is wait.”
Now that the Cub leader’s report had been made, the boys were in no mood for a long meeting. Brad took up a few matters concerning the Friday party, including the necessity for finding at least one ice cream freezer.
“Tomorrow is our last chance,” he told the Cubs. “Everyone get busy. Ask friends and neighbors and let’s see if we can’t find one.”
As Brad ended his little pep talk, the boys were startled to hear a loud pounding on the closed clubroom door.
Chub and Dan both jumped up to see who had rapped.
Dan reached the door first. No one was there. He thought though, that he heard a muffled snicker, and certainly he detected the sound of retreating footsteps. As he listened a moment, he noticed a folded piece of paper lying on the cement floor almost at his feet.
“What’s that?” Chub cried, seeing the paper at the same instant.
Dan picked it up. He unfolded the coarse, soiled sheet to discover a pencil-scrawled message.
“THE CUBS ARE SISSIES,” it read. “WE CAN LICK YOU IN BASKETBALL ANY OLD DAY. HOW ABOUT A GAME? THIS IS A CHALLENGE. LEAVE YOUR ANSWER IN A BOTTLE IN HAGERMAN’S ALLEY.”
The note was signed “Pat Oswald and the Purple Five.”
As Dan read the note from Pat, the Cubs’ first reaction was one of annoyance.
“Why, the nerve of him!” Fred Hatfield explained. “He sneaks up here, listening to our sessions, and then leaves a cheap challenge!”
“Let’s write a hot note back, telling that Purple Five to go jump in an ash can!” Red proposed.
Dan and Brad dashed down the corridor to see if they could intercept the intruders. However, Pat and his followers had slipped out a side door and were out of sight.
The two Cubs knew that it would be useless to search the church yard, so rejoined the other boys in the meeting room. By this time, argument over the note had attained a high pitch.
Red, Fred and Chips were in favor of rejecting the challenge in short order. Chub held no opinion whatsoever. Midge was talking in favor of giving the dare serious consideration.
“If we refuse to play, Pat will go all over town, saying we’re afraid to do it because we’d be licked,” he argued.
“We might at that,” Brad interposed. “Our team isn’t the smoothest on wheels.”
“We haven’t practiced much, that’s why,” Midge insisted. “Why, we could beat Pat and his hoodlums with our hands tied behind our backs!”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of it myself,” Brad said with an easy smile. “From what I hear, Pat is a first-rate athlete.”
“We saw a sample of his basket shooting the other day,” Dan reminded the Cubs.
“You think that stupid Purple Five team could beat us?” Red demanded, leaping to his feet. “Why, that’s downright disloyal.”
Dan hesitated to make his position clear. “I’m not saying any such thing, and I’m not disloyal, Red. Maybe our Cub team, disorganized as it is, could beat the Purple Five. Then again, maybe we couldn’t. It might be an interesting match.”
“What if they should lick us?” Chips asked uneasily.
“That’s a risk we’d have to take,” Brad answered. “Naturally, if we decide to play, we’ll have to get busy and practice.”