“I’m deep in a mystery,” the colonel smiled. “With your help though, I think we may be able to solve it. Miss Aldringham, will you find my grandson, Billy, and send him here?”
“I’ll do my best, Colonel. That boy has a way of disappearing for hours at a time.”
During the absence of the nurse, Colonel Brekenridge told the Cubs a little about himself. He said he had rented the house six months earlier, but had not been too pleased with the quarters.
“For one thing, my grandson has had no playmates,” he explained. “The boy came to me three months ago from England.”
At Dan’s look of surprise, the colonel explained that Billy was an American by birth. He had spent many years in England and other foreign countries however, in company with his father.
“Billy hasn’t been very happy here,” he remarked sadly. “He’s a live wire and hasn’t had enough to do. Then I must admit I’ve been so ill I’ve scarcely concerned myself with his social needs.”
Miss Aldringham returned to the porch to report that she could not find Billy anywhere.
“His room is empty,” she said. “I couldn’t find him on the grounds either.”
“Drat that boy!” the colonel exclaimed. “Sometimes it seems to me he deliberately hides out! Since he’s been up to mischief, he probably figures he’ll be punished.”
The Cubs might not have learned the answer to their many questions for days to come. At that moment, however, Dan’s alert gaze chanced to rove toward a clump of bushes behind the veranda.
The Cub was startled to catch a glimpse of a touseled brown head of hair. A pair of blue eyes gazed squarely into his own from amid the foliage.
Then the face was gone.
“I saw someone in that rhododendron bush just then!” he exclaimed.
“Nail him!” commanded the colonel.
Dan and the gardener both made a dive for the bush.
They emerged with a small boy in tow. Not more than eleven years of age, he wore English cut trousers which he had rolled to the knees. His freckled, deeply tanned face was smeared with dirt.
“Well, Billy, I guess you knew you were wanted,” the colonel said severely. “Hiding out, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy.
His curious gaze moved from one Cub Scout to another and finally came to rest on the leather pouch which his grandfather held.
“Billy, you have a few matters to explain, I believe.”
The boy grinned at his grandfather.
“Oh, sure,” he admitted, undisturbed. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know—only first you have to promise not to punish me.”
“You’ll drive no bargain with me, young man. Sit down!”
“Yes, sir,” Billy gulped, collapsing on the steps.
“Before we delve into other matters, there is one question I will ask,” said the colonel severely. “Did you or did you not have anything to do with starting a fire at the Castle?”
The point-blank question did not disconcert Billy Brekenridge.
“Why, no, Grandfather,” he replied soberly. “I didn’t start the fire. That is, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t seem to be very certain, Billy.”
“Did you roast weiners that morning?” interposed Dan.
“No-o,” the boy replied, thinking hard. “Oh, yes, I did, too. It was only a little fire though.”
“Little fires have a way of spreading into large ones if they are carelessly tended,” remarked Mr. Hatfield. “On that particular day a strong wind was blowing in the direction of the Castle.”
“Then you think I started that big fire?” Billy asked, his eyes wide and very blue.
“We’re afraid you may have done it unintentionally,” his grandfather replied. “Billy, I fear I have neglected you of late, not paying as much attention to your comings and goings as I should have done.”
Billy said nothing, but stirred uncomfortably. He took it for granted he was to be severely punished for having caused the fire.
“Now there are other questions to be asked,” his grandfather resumed. “You’re quite handy with a bow and arrow, I believe.”
“I should be,” the boy answered. “I learned in England. My father taught me.”
Ross Langdon produced the bow which had been picked up by the Castle.
Before he could offer it to Billy, the boy claimed the property.
“That’s mine,” he said. “I dropped it when I ran.”
“Then you’re the ghost of the Castle?” Dan asked him.
“I’m no ghost.”
“That’s only the name we gave you. But you’re the one who shot arrows into our target during the tournament?”
“And the one who kept peeking at us as we acted out our movie scenes?” Brad questioned.
“Sure,” Billy admitted with a grin.
“Then it follows that you’re the mysterious archer who shot that arrow near Mr. Kain’s automobile,” Dan resumed. “You told us to search in Robin Hood’s Strong Box.”
“Did you find the treasure?” Billy demanded. “I know you did, because I see Grandfather has the bag of coins.”
Colonel Brekenridge directed a stern gaze upon his grandson.
“Why did you hide the coins in the Castle chimney niche, Billy?”
“Because I wanted the Cubs to have ’em,” the boy answered promptly. “They need money to buy costumes for their play. This was all I had.”
If the Cubs had felt any resentment toward Billy, it melted upon the moment.
“I’m certain you meant to be generous, Billy,” his grandfather said kindly. “You realize though that those coins are very rare and valuable. Your father gave them to you to keep.”
“I’m sorry, Grandfather. I didn’t stop to think. I only wanted to help. The Cubs had to pay for all the damage done by the fire. I know ’cause I overheard ’em talking about it.”
Mr. Kain squirmed uncomfortably. Now that it definitely was established the Cubs had been blameless in the fire, he was ashamed to have taken their money.
“A little mistake was made,” he said gruffly.
Colonel Brekenridge asked how much the Cubs had been required to pay. Learning that the amount was twenty dollars, he bade his nurse bring pen, ink and a check book.
“Billy was entirely at fault,” he told Mr. Kain. “It would be most unfair to hold the Cubs responsible for damage. I’ll gladly repay the amount.”
Colonel Brekenridge made out a check to Sam Hatfield, instructing that each boy be repaid the amount he had contributed.
“Say, we’ll get our costumes for the play after all!” Dan said jubilantly. “We can buy a lot of special trappings!”
“Whoop-ee!” chortled Midge, tossing his cap into the air. “Maybe we’ll win that contest yet!”
“I’d like to make a little contribution to help along the cause,” said Mr. Kain unexpectedly.
From his billfold, he extracted two new ten dollar bills.
“Oh, it isn’t necessary to repay us,” Dan protested quickly. “Colonel Brekenridge already has done that.”
“This is merely a little personal offering,” the bank employee said, thrusting the money into the boy’s hand. “I’ve learned a lesson in dealing with the Cubs. Use this to buy whatever you need for your play.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kain! And may we keep on using the Castle grounds?”
“As long as you like, or at least until the place is sold.”
“The Castle property is for sale?” Colonel Brekenridge inquired in surprise.
“Yes, the bank has decided to get rid of it. The property is a white elephant, eating up an enormous amount in taxes and maintenance. It will be a bargain though for anyone who can afford such a mansion.”
Now that everything had been arranged to the satisfaction of the Cubs, they had no further excuse for remaining.
Brad arose from the steps and the other Cubs followed his example.
“Oh, do you have to go so soon?” asked Billy, his face becoming downcast. “Can’t you stay and play with me just a little while? I’ll let you use my bow and arrow and my Ping-pong table.”
His words and manner made it instantly clear to the Cubs that the boy suffered from loneliness.
This fact also became evident to Colonel Breckenridge.
“Billy,” he said, “as I said before, I’m afraid I’ve neglected you in recent months. Tell me, how do you spend your time?”
“I don’t know,” the boy replied vaguely. “There’s nothing to do here. No one to play with ever.”
“So that is why you’ve roamed the woods and found mischief for yourself?”
“I had to do something, didn’t I?” Billy asked.
“You could have had friends here.”
Billy gazed at the gardener and gave a snort. “Pete wouldn’t let me! If I even let out a yip, he would tell me to be quiet—that I was making you worse.”
“I see,” said Colonel Brekenridge quietly.
“Whatever I did, the servants would tell me not to make so much noise,” Billy went on. “The only fun I had was watching the Cubs. I wish I could be one.”
“And why not?” interposed Mr. Holloway heartily. “You’re the right age, Billy.”
“Also, you’re mighty handy with a bow and arrow!” added Dan. “You could teach us quite a few tricks.”
“Billy would be a real asset in our play,” added Brad. “If we’re to win the prize, we need a few fancy marksmen.”
Billy’s face had become highly animated. Springing up from the steps, he gazed anxiously at his grandfather.
“Oh, may I join?” he pleaded. “May I, Grandfather? I promise I’ll be as quiet as a mouse around here and never make you nervous.”
The colonel laughed. “Billy, you’re the same as a Cub Scout right now, if the organization will take a rascal like you! Furthermore, your days of tiptoeing around lest you disturb me are at an end. I’m well on the road to recovery. A little healthy boy-noise will do me good for a change!”
Billy now turned to Mr. Hatfield, eagerly demanding to know if he might be taken into the organization.
“Of course we want you,” the Cub leader assured him. “We’ll have the initiation as soon as possible. Meanwhile, you may take part in all our activities.”
“The Robin Hood play?”
“Certainly.”
Dan now spoke up. “I think Billy should be Robin Hood,” he said generously. “We all know he’s a better shot than anyone in the Pack.”
“I’d like to be in the play, but I don’t want the lead part,” Billy replied.
Mr. Holloway pointed out that many of the scenes had been filmed. To place Billy in the leading role at such a late date would mean retaking a great deal of film.
“We’ll find a role for him,” he promised. “Give me time to think of something.”
The boys told Billy a little about the Cub organization and particularly of their plans for the play.
They were amazed to learn that the boy not only was thoroughly familiar with the Robin Hood story, but had visited the real Nottingham Castle in England.
“You’re going to be a big help to us in supplying authentic detail for the play,” Mr. Holloway assured him.
Colonel Brekenridge remarked that it was approaching the luncheon hour. He would not hear of the Cubs leaving.
Instead, he invited them all to remain for a picnic lunch.
“Pete will look after everything,” he said, chuckling at his own joke. “He likes visitors, you know.”
Billy was thrilled to think that the Cubs would remain. He flew about, issuing orders to the servants and telling them exactly what he wanted for lunch. Double tables were set up under the trees and a cloth was spread.
Although unable to join the group, Colonel Brekenridge watched from his wheel chair on the veranda.
“How does the story of Robin Hood end?” Midge asked, as the boys sat eating hamburger sandwiches. “You’ve never told us, Mr. Holloway.”
“Robin Hood had a long and merry life in Sherwood Forest,” the Den Dad responded. “If we like, we may end our story on that note. I was thinking though, that an epilogue might be added. In this, Billy could play the part of Robin Hood in his old age, and shoot the last arrow.”
“How does the epilogue go?” asked Brad.
“The story is this,” Mr. Holloway explained. “Robin Hood had left England, but as springtime returns, he craves again to roam the woodlands of his beloved Sherwood Forest.
“He renews acquaintance with his old friends, Little John, Will Stutely, Allan-a-Dale and Midge, the Miller.
“Finally he falls ill of a fever, and seeks the aid of his cousin, the Prioress of Kirklees. The woman always has disliked Robin Hood and plots to bring his downfall.”
“She locks him in a room of the tower and allows him to weaken!” declared Dan, who recalled the story. “A long while elapses before Little John hears his faint cries for help. By the time he traces the call and breaks down the oaken door, Robin Hood is on the verge of death.”
“Yes,” Mr. Holloway nodded, “and when Robin Hood realized that his hour had come, he bade Little John string his stout bow for him and choose a smooth arrow from his quiver.
“Then from his bed, Robin Hood prepared to shoot through the open window. He directed Little John to dig his grave where the arrow came to rest.”
“I don’t like a sad ending to a story,” Midge protested.
The other Cubs, however, favored adding the epilogue. They thought it not only would round up the story with a most effective scene, but would give Billy Brekenridge a chance to play a star part.
“I’ll fix myself up to look like an old man!” the boy declared happily. “I can shoot that arrow from a lying down position easy as anything.”
Throughout the morning, Mr. Kain had been increasingly impressed not only by the Cubs but by their plans for the Robin Hood play.
“When will it be given?” he asked Mr. Hatfield.
The Cub leader told him that plans had been made to present the play before three judges the following Saturday. An invitation also would be extended to parents to witness the show.
“This play deserves a larger audience,” Mr. Kain declared enthusiastically. “Why not put out posters and invite the town?”
“We’d like to do that, Mr. Kain. The boys have worked hard. We were afraid though, that the bank might not want so many people tramping over the grounds.”
“Let me take care of that,” replied the bank employee. “After the way the Cubs saved the property for us, I’m sure we owe them a little something.”
The Cubs were delighted by Mr. Kain’s change of attitude.
They were even more pleased when he went on, saying: “From watching rehearsals and listening to an outline of the epilogue, I plainly see you’re handicapped by having to do all your scenes outdoors.”
“Yes, we are, but that can’t be helped,” Mr. Hatfield agreed.
“Why not do the final scene inside the Castle at the window?”
“Could it be arranged?”
“I’m sure of it. I’ll see the bank president this very afternoon and let you know.” Mr. Kain arose and picked up his hat. “Well, good-bye boys, and good luck in winning the contest,” he said. “It’s been most educational knowing you.”
After Mr. Kain had gone, the Cubs remained for another two hours at the Brekenridge estate. Billy seemed pathetically eager for companionship.
He showed them about the grounds and displayed his archery equipment. Not in the least boastful, the boy, at request of the Cubs, demonstrated his ability with bow and arrow.
“I’ve practiced for years,” he said. “My father taught me in England. You’ll all be as good or better than I am, after you’ve practiced awhile.”
“We doubt that,” laughed Dan. “All the same, it will come in handy having you to do a little behind-the-scenes shooting.”
“I’ll be your double,” Billy volunteered. “Whenever a scene requires very accurate shooting, I can substitute for you, but my face won’t show.”
Details of the various scenes in which both boys would take part were worked out. Then it was time for the Cubs to leave.
“You’ll come again—soon?” Billy asked wistfully, escorting the group to the estate entrance.
“Sure,” Dan told him. “As often as we’re invited.”
“That will be every single day!” Billy laughed. “You won’t forget your other promise—to make me a Cub?”
“No one can make you a Cub,” Dan replied. “That’s up to you. You may be sure, though, we’ll take you into the organization.”
“The initiation will be soon,” Mr. Hatfield promised. “Meanwhile, boys, let’s all remember the Cub motto—‘Do Your Best.’ If we’re to win first in the play contest, we all must put forth top effort.”
On the day set for the presentation of the Cubs’ Robin Hood play, the boys of Dens 1 and 2 arrived early at the Castle grounds.
The weather had favored them. A rain the previous day had settled the dust and the air was pleasantly cool.
“Everything’s perfect,” Brad declared in satisfaction. “Now if we don’t muff our lines, we’re all set.”
“I don’t know,” Dan replied, none too confident. “I almost wish we had adopted Ross’ idea and put on an Indian pow wow instead of such an elaborate presentation.”
“Don’t you think it!” the Den Chief replied. “Just as Mr. Hatfield said, Indian shows are a dime a dozen.”
“That one the Hi-Y Club put on was good though, Brad. We have real competition.”
The previous night the Cubs had witnessed the Indian skit presented by another competitor for the grand prize. As Dan remarked, it had been very good indeed.
Ten organizations finally had entered the contests. Six of the performances had been of mediocre caliber. The other three, however, definitely were in the running for the prize.
“Don’t forget, the last things usually are best,” Brad encouraged his friend. “We’ve worked hard and we should win.”
“We should, but will we?” Dan countered. “The shooting match is our big scene. If I should get nervous and miss the target—that would ruin everything.”
“You won’t be nervous, Dan,” Brad said. “Quit your worrying. Now let’s get into our costumes. The crowd soon will arrive.”
For the occasion, the bank had opened the Castle to visitors. One room had been set aside as the Cubs’ dressing quarters. Here all of the Cubs had gathered.
“At any rate, we have top-notch costumes,” Midge declared in satisfaction as he scrambled into his tight-fitting suit of green. “Thanks to Mr. Brekenridge and the bank officials!”
The room buzzed with conversation. Red could not find his cap with the yellow feather. Chips, certain that he would forget his lines, kept mumbling them over and over. Everyone talked at once, and no one listened. Of the group, Billy Brekenridge appeared the most calm.
“I wish I had your confidence,” Dan told him enviously.
“Oh, I don’t need any,” the boy laughed. “My part is small, at the very end. I know I can shoot Robin Hood’s last arrow straight and true.”
“Wish I could be as sure of myself,” Dan sighed.
“Just relax and don’t think about the crowd,” Billy advised him. “You’ve improved a lot in practice this last week. You’ll do fine.”
The crowd soon began to arrive, everyone seating themselves on the grass near the Castle. Presently, Mr. Hatfield brought word that the judges had appeared.
“I have news for you,” he told the Cubs. “The judges may announce the winner of the contest at conclusion of our performance. All the other plays have been given, you know. Ours is the last one to be graded.”
“I hope they award us something for effort,” Chips said grimly.
Mr. Hatfield explained that the grading would be according to strict rules. A certain number of points were to be allowed for originality of material, a certain number for costumes, stage direction, acting ability, and general effectiveness.
By two o’clock, the hour set for the start of the play, a large throng had gathered on the Castle grounds.
The Cubs were amazed to see Colonel Brekenridge in the audience. He sat in the shade in his wheel chair, accompanied by his nurse.
At last came the moment of starting. Four trumpeters announced the opening with blasts from their instruments.
Although all scenes had been taken many times, Mr. Holloway had posted himself at an advantageous position to make a final filming of the play. It was planned that the picture later would be offered to other organizations for showings.
The play began with the prologue in which Robin Hood encountered Little John at the bridge.
Their sprightly duel evoked much laughter from the crowd and went off without a single mistake.
“Even the judges were laughing,” Brad whispered to Fred. “We’re doing all right so far.”
As the play unfolded, the audience learned that a reward of two hundred pounds had been offered for Robin Hood’s head, and that the Sheriff of Nottingham had sworn he himself would seize the outlaw.
The Cubs were uncertain how Ross Langdon would act his role. During practice he had alternately sulked or clowned.
As it developed, the doubts proved needless. Ross was as determined as the other Cubs to win honors for the Pack. He spoke his lines carefully, and his blustering manner exactly fitted the role.
Finally, came the vital scene of the play, the shooting match at Nottingham Town.
When Dan’s turn came to shoot, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The other archers in the scene had shot their arrows flying into the target.
And, as luck would have it, two of the shots had been especially good. To uphold the role of Robin Hood, he must beat both of them.
“Gosh! Do your best, Dan,” Midge whispered to his friend. “I didn’t mean to put an arrow in the gold. It slipped away from me!”
Dan dared not look too long at the target. Drawing the bow, he loosed the string.
For a moment he stood motionless, his eye fixed upon his point of aim. He was afraid to hope. If the arrow failed to beat the other two—the match was a farce!
Then a shout went up and the audience began to clap.
The arrow had flown straight and true, lodging inside of the other two, and clipping a bit of feather from the one Midge had shot.
“Bravo!” shouted Midge. “A beautiful shot!”
The play moved on swiftly now to the epilogue.
In this final scene only Billy Brekenridge and Brad appeared, the latter acting his role of Little John.
Billy had been made up to look very old. Propped on pillows, he reclined just inside the Castle, but visible to the audience.
As the camera began to grind, Brad as Little John opened wide the windows.
An amplifier carried Robin Hood’s final words to the audience. Speaking with a great deal of feeling, Billy instructed Little John to make his last resting place the spot where his arrow fell.
Then, raising himself upright, he drew the bowstring. Out through the open window sped the arrow. A perfect shot, it fell in a green bower directly in view of the judges.
A blast from the trumpets signalled the end of the performance.
“That was swell, Billy!” Brad cried, grasping his hand. “Your shot couldn’t have been better!”
“Where that arrow fell we’ll place our target for the archery range,” Billy said dreamily. “I’ve got it all planned.”
Brad was too excited at the moment by the success of the play to wonder what the boy meant.
Parents poured around the Cubs, congratulating them upon their fine acting.
Though pleased that it was over, the Cubs were none too confident of victory. The judges, they noticed, had gone into a huddle. Apparently, they were in disagreement, for they seemed to be arguing rather heatedly.
“No soap,” Chips muttered hopelessly. “I stumbled over my lines in one place. I’m sure that prejudiced one judge. I saw him looking hard at me.”
Ten minutes elapsed. Then word came that the judges were ready to announce their decision. George Hutton, as spokesman for the group, stepped out in front of the expectant audience.
“The task of choosing the best play from among ten entries has been most difficult,” he began. “All have had exceeding merit. In the unanimous opinion of the judges, however, one presentation has been outstanding in every respect.”
“Whichone?” whispered Midge impatiently. “Can’t he ever get to the point?”
“First prize is awarded to the Cub Scouts for their play ‘Robin Hood,’” Mr. Hutton announced. “From start to finish, the presentation was afinishedproduction.”
After that, there was no containing the pride of the Cubs. As they talked gleefully of their success, however, they gave full credit to Mr. Hatfield, Midge’s father, and to Brad and Dan who had contributed so heavily of their time.
Now that the winner had been announced, the crowd began to leave. Mr. Holloway called the boys together to thank them for their splendid effort and to tell them that already he had received many requests to show the Robin Hood film.
“Just think!” Fred said jubilantly. “Now that we’ve won the prize, we’ll have a complete archery set! Bows and arrows for everyone and targets! We’ll have a chance to really become experts.”
“We’ll need an archery range though,” Red pointed out. “Now that our play is finished, we can’t expect the bank to allow us to keep on using these grounds.”
“That’s so,” Fred admitted, a trifle crestfallen. “Well, at any rate, we’ll have Billy here to teach us how to shoot.”
“Speaking of Billy reminds me of an important matter,” remarked Mr. Hatfield, who had overheard the conversation. “Officially, he isn’t a Cub yet.”
“Why don’t we initiate him?” demanded Chips.
“Soon, too,” chimed in Dan. “We need Billy.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” agreed the Cub leader. “Colonel Brekenridge is here now with his nurse. He may never be able to come to one of our meetings—”
“He’d like to see Billy taken into the organization!” Brad exclaimed. “Why not induct him right now?”
All the other Cubs favored the plan. Gathering the boys in a circle, Mr. Hatfield briefly explained the ideals and goals of the organization.
“A real Cub is square,” he told Billy. “Also he is reliable and loyal. He sticks by his friends. A Cub prides himself upon being fair to others. Last but far from least, he always tries to be cheerful.”
The Cub leader then explained further that the five ideals, SQUARE, LOYAL, FAIR, HAPPY and GAME, were represented by the five fingers of the Cub’s left hand.
Billy then was asked to repeat the Cub Promise:
“I, Billy Brekenridge, promise to do my best, to be square and to obey the law of the Cub Pack.”
All of the Cubs of Dens 1 and 2 repeated the Law of the Pack:
The Cub Follows Akela.The Cub Helps the Pack Go.The Pack Helps the Cub Grow.The Cub Gives Good Will.
The Cub Follows Akela.
The Cub Helps the Pack Go.
The Pack Helps the Cub Grow.
The Cub Gives Good Will.
The boys showed Billy the official handclasp and how to make the Cub sign with the two first fingers of the right hand.
“You’re a full fledged Bobcat now!” Brad told him when the ceremony had been completed. “Work hard and you’ll soon be a Wolf.”
“And after that a Bear and a Lion!” laughed Ross Langdon. “It’s hard going though.”
Colonel Brekenridge, who had witnessed the ceremony, asked his nurse to wheel him to the group.
Congratulating his grandson upon his entry into the Cub organization, he then cordially invited the boys to come to his estate whenever they felt the urge.
“I don’t expect to be living there long though,” he added. “The place has been none too satisfactory.”
This information rather dashed the expectation of the Cubs.
“You’re not moving away from Webster City, Colonel Brekenridge?” Dan questioned. “We’d hate to lose Billy right after taking him into the Den.”
“Oh, no,” the colonel reassured the boys. “I expect to make my home here. I have bought a place of my own.”
“In this section of the city, I hope,” Brad said politely.
“Very much so.” Colonel Brekenridge smiled at the boys, and added casually, “In fact, you’re standing on my property now.”
The Cubs were dumbfounded.
“You mean you’ve bought the Castle?” Dan demanded.
“The deal with the bank was completed yesterday. I expect to finish the house as the designer originally planned it. The grounds will be cleared and replanted with shrubs and flowers.”
“Say, that’s great!” Chips declared, and all the boys nodded agreement.
“You’ll be welcome here at any time,” the colonel continued. “For that matter, to make certain you’ll come, I may offer a few inducements.”
“Picnic tables,” suggested Billy eagerly. “Outdoor grills and fireplaces.”
“By all means,” agreed his grandfather. “We’ll cut the brush from the woods and make interesting trails.”
“The Cubs can help with that work,” volunteered Dan.
Colonel Brekenridge smiled at his willingness.
“The Cubs have done their share of brush cutting,” he said. “I want this place to represent sheer fun for the boys.”
“Say, we’re going to like that!” laughed Midge.
“I guess SO!” chuckled Red.
“The Cubs need an archery range,” suggested Billy.
“I intended to ask about that,” said his grandfather. “Billy, fetch a bow and arrow.”
The boy ran to do his bidding. When he returned with it, the colonel placed the bow in Dan’s hands.
“Now, Robin Hood, you must shoot this arrow with care,” he advised. “For wherever it falls, there shall be the Cubs’ future archery range.”
“I know exactly the stretch we need!” declared Dan. “If only I don’t miss my aim.”
As the other Cubs gathered about him, the boy raised his bow and took careful aim.
Away sped the arrow, straight and true to fall to earth exactly at the spot he had planned.
“There lies our future archery range,” he said, smiling at Billy. “Here’s to our success!”
“And here’s to the best marksman,” added Brad. “The Bobcat who taught us the tricks of Robin Hood’s trade!”