The two boys discussed the matter with the other Cubs. Very few of the organization members had been successful in earning enough money. Everyone except Ross Langdon immediately favored the project. Ross declared that to cut weeds would inflame his nose and bring on an attack of hay fever.
“Anyway, I have more than enough money now for my Robin Hood costume,” he said smugly. “No weed cutting for me.”
“Okay,” Brad shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t forget though, that you have a section of ground at the castle to clear before next Saturday. We gave our promise to the bank that it would be done.”
The next morning, Brad and Dan set out to see how many jobs they could obtain for the Cubs.
After trying four places, they were given the promise of one small one. With all the Cubs working, Brad calculated it would not take an hour for the boys to clean up the premises.
“We’ll need at least another sizeable job to make it worth while,” Dan commented as the two boys paused for a moment on the highway. “But where will we get it?”
Brad had noticed a well-kept property directly ahead on the right-hand side of the road. Orchards were surrounded by an artistically built wooden rail fence.
However, tall dried weeds had grown about the rails. Should a fire start from a dropped match or cigarette, not only the fence, but the orchard as well might be damaged.
“Let’s try that place ahead,” Brad proposed. “We could grub out those weeds by hand in two or three hours. It would make the grounds look better and eliminate a fire hazard.”
The boys could not see the house from the main road.
Seeking it, they followed a winding lane through attractively laid out grounds. Presently, they came within view of a large white house with two pillars supporting the veranda.
In their immediate path was a small one room shack which evidently served as a gardener’s tool house.
“Well, I hope someone is home,” Dan remarked. “We’ve had a long, hard walk.”
Even as he spoke, a short, wiry man in overalls came out of the gardener’s house.
“You boys want something?” he asked, blocking their way.
“Why, yes,” said Brad. He explained that he and Dan were Cub Scouts in search of odd jobs for their organization.
“Well, there’s nothing here for you,” the man answered briefly.
“We’d like to talk to the owner of the property, if you please.”
“You can’t see him. The master doesn’t like visitors.”
“Who is the owner?” inquired Dan curiously.
“Never mind. The point is, you’ll find no work here. I attend to all the odd jobs.”
“You do fine at keeping the property in order,” declared Brad, his gaze roving over the well-trimmed shrubs. “But we noticed one little thing you overlooked.”
“Oh, you did, eh?” Despite Brad’s polite manner, the gardener was growing more and more irritated.
Trying to be as diplomatic as possible, the boys told of their need to earn money for costumes. They then mentioned the uncut weeds along the front fence, stressing the danger of fire.
“I have enough to do around here without pulling those weeds!” the man exclaimed. “What’s more, I won’t take it on.”
“That’s where we come in,” said Brad. “For a very moderate fee, the Cubs will do a good job of cleaning them out.”
“Oh, no you won’t!” The gardener now was very angry. “You’re trying to make me look bad with the boss. Well, you can’t see him! Now get out of here before I let the dogs loose!”
“You have us all wrong,” Dan protested. “We’re not trying to get anyone into trouble. But the work should be done and—”
“Get out!”
Dan would have stood his ground, but Brad pulled him away.
“Come on, Dan,” he said quietly. “We’ll find another place. No use stirring up trouble.”
Feeling very annoyed at having been so rudely dismissed, the two boys started away. They rounded a point in the road which blocked off their view of the gardener and the tool house.
“That stupid lug!” Brad snorted. “He’s afraid we’ll make him look bad!”
As the boy spoke the words, an object whizzed through the air. Flying high above his head, it lodged in a tree at the side of the lane.
“What was that?” Brad demanded, startled.
“An arrow!” Dan exclaimed. “Say! Someone is using us for a target! We’d better take cover!”
Rather alarmed, Brad and Dan looked quickly behind them.
The roadway was clear. Nor could they see anyone hiding in the bushes. They were certain however, that the arrow had been shot from that direction.
“It’s a joke, I guess,” Brad said a bit unnerved. “Either that, or the gardener is taking this way of getting even.”
After a moment, the boys went over to the tree and pulled out the arrow from the tree where it had lodged.
“Say!” Dan exclaimed. “This looks like the arrow that was shot into our target the other day at the castle!”
“It is the same size and shape!”
“We’re not far from the castle grounds either, Brad.”
“That’s so. You know, I don’t like the idea of anyone shooting over our heads, Dan. The arrow may have been aimed high on purpose, but it’s a dangerous trick.”
“It sure is. Do you think the gardener would do a trick like that?”
“He certainly wanted us to leave. We didn’t make any trouble about it though. So I can’t see why he’d shoot an arrow.”
“Even if he didn’t, he may know who the archer is,” Dan said, slipping the shaft into his pocket. “Let’s go back to the tool house and ask him point-blank.”
“We-ll—”
“This is a free country,” Dan argued. “No one has a right to be shooting arrows at us.”
“All right, we’ll ask him,” Brad consented. “We are trespassing though, and he’s within his rights to order us off the property.”
Uncertain of the reception they might receive, the two boys rapidly retraced their steps to the tool house. In walking they kept a sharp watch of the bushes. Once Dan thought he heard a giggle from the shadowy woods. But he saw no one.
As the boys reached the tool house, the door suddenly swung open.
The Cubs again found themselves confronted by the gardener.
“Back again?” he demanded unpleasantly. “Didn’t I tell you to get on the move?”
“We started all right,” Brad replied. “Then someone shot at us from behind!”
“What d’you mean? Shot at you?”
Dan produced the arrow.
“Oh, that,” the gardener shrugged.
“Maybe you’ve seen an arrow like this before?” Brad inquired.
“Maybe I have,” the man answered unpleasantly. “Then again, maybe I ain’t. Now will you get off this property, or have I got to call the police?”
“We’ll go, but first we want to know about this arrow,” Dan said stubbornly. “Did you shoot it?”
“No, I didn’t,” the gardener retorted. “I got other things to do than shoot arrows.”
“Maybe you have a son—” Brad began, but the man interrupted.
“No, I don’t have a son,” he said. Uneasily the man glanced toward the veranda where an elderly looking gentleman had appeared. “Now get going, or I’ll call the police! This is your last warning.”
Thoroughly disgusted, Brad and Dan moved away. At the bend in the lane, they glanced back and saw that the elderly man remained on the porch, watching them. Evidently he was the owner of the property, they thought.
“We should have appealed to him,” Brad said. “For some reason, Old Sourpuss didn’t want us to talk to his employer. Probably he’s afraid we’ll drop a word to the master about how he’s allowed the weeds to flourish.”
Approaching the place where the arrow had been shot, the boys walked warily. Nothing happened. Nor did they see anyone hiding amid the bushes.
Safely, Dan and Brad reached the main road.
“Who do you suppose shot that arrow?” Dan speculated. “I don’t believe it was the gardener, and he said he has no son.”
Brad could not venture a guess. He agreed with Dan, however, that the arrow appeared to be identical with the one that had been shot into the target at the castle grounds.
The meeting with the gardener had discouraged the two boys. After talking it over, they decided to abandon looking for work that day.
“We have one job lined up at any rate,” Dan declared. “That will keep the Cubs busy and provide a little money.”
On the following day, the boys of Den 2 joined forces to clear away the weeds and dry grass at the Wilkinson estate. So well did they do the work, that the owner engaged them to clean another larger area for him.
By the end of the day, the Cubs had netted enough to buy the materials for their costumes.
All that week Dan spent as much time as he could on the archery range near his home. He and Midge practiced too at the Holloway home, with Mr. Holloway offering expert instruction.
“You’ve improved remarkably,” the Den Dad praised Dan. “Just don’t get excited Saturday, and you may yet win the role of Robin Hood.”
On Saturday, not only the Cubs of both dens but the parents as well, gathered to witness the shooting contest.
Mr. Holloway had brought along his movie camera and planned to record the match.
“We’ll run the contest off as much as possible as it was done at Nottingham Town,” Mr. Hatfield announced. “However, the winner shall have the role of Robin Hood.”
“Review the scene for us, please,” Midge requested the Cub leader.
Mr. Hatfield explained that the Sheriff of Nottingham had planned the shooting contest as a trick to capture Robin Hood. Because the outlaw was known never to miss an important match, it was believed that he would not fail to appear.
“On the sidelines we have the sheriff and his men,” the Cub leader said. “When the herald blows a blast, the archers take their places. How many are to compete for the role?”
Only four boys had decided to try for it. Besides Dan and Ross, Midge and Clyde Jennings, a boy from Den 1, had finally asked for a chance at the part.
“Each boy will shoot only six arrows,” the Cub leader instructed. “And the one having the highest total is the winner.”
Clyde Jennings stepped to the line. His first three arrows missed the target entirely. The final three barely caught in the outer rim.
“That finishes me,” muttered Clyde, deeply humiliated. “I never did that bad before. Having so many people watching, made me nervous.”
Midge’s turn came next. He drew his bow quickly but did not take as careful aim as he might have done. The arrow netted him only three points.
On the next five shots Midge used more care. Even so, he wound up with a total of 20 points.
“I’m out of it,” he whispered to Dan. “Unless you can come through, Ross will be Robin Hood.”
The crowd became quiet as Ross picked up his bow. His first two arrows landed squarely in the gold of the target.
Ross grinned at his own success and winked at one of the Cubs.
But his next shot was wild, barely catching the outer rim of the target. On his fourth arrow he recovered form somewhat, managing to net seven points.
His total score read: 991753 or six arrows shot for a total of 34 points.
“Nice going, Ross,” praised Dan. “I don’t think I can better it.”
The Den 1 boy’s response was a proud smile. He too felt that Dan couldn’t beat him.
“Shoot as well as you can, Dan,” Midge whispered into his ear. “Our play will be ruined if Ross is made Robin Hood.”
Dan deftly fitted the feather of the arrow to his bowstring. Taking aim carefully, he let speed the shaft. Straight it flew, but missed the target by a scant inch and nose-dived into a hillock.
The Cubs of Den 2 emitted a loud moan. Ross smiled broadly. He was confident now of victory.
Outwardly unmoved, Dan again took aim, deliberately lowering his sight. Again the arrow flew straight from his bow, landing in the gold.
“Nine points!” shouted Midge, tossing his cap into the air. “Keep ’er up.”
Dan shot twice more in rapid succession. Both arrows landed in the yellow. The boy now had shot four times for a total of 27 points.
“Do it again, Dan!” yelled Red.
Dan, however, was less sure of himself on the next shot. The arrow dug into the target on the rim of the gold.
Lest there be any argument, Mr. Hatfield ruled that it had fallen within the next band of color. Dan was awarded 7 points.
“That ties the score!” whooped Midge. “You’ll win easily now, Dan.”
The words unnerved Dan. As he raised his bow to make the final shot, he could feel his arm tremble. When he finally released the arrow, it missed the target.
“Buck fever,” Dan laughed, putting down his bow. “I guess I deserve to lose out to Ross.”
“But you haven’t,” Mr. Hatfield informed him. “You’re both tied with 34 points. Now you’ll have to shoot again.”
Ross had jumped up from the grass. “I don’t want to do that,” he protested. “My arm is sore. I hit the target every time while Dan missed twice. Doesn’t that prove—”
“Not a thing,” said Mr. Hatfield. “Well, Ross, if you’re unwilling to shoot again, suppose we settle it by drawing lots?”
“Okay,” the boy agreed after hesitating a moment. “I’m pretty lucky.”
“How about you, Dan? Are you willing to settle it by drawing cuts?”
“That’s fair enough,” Dan agreed. “For that matter, I’m willing to give the part to Ross. Honestly, I feel he’s the better shot.”
“Ross will make an excellent Sheriff of Nottingham,” returned Mr. Hatfield, preparing several strips of paper for the “draw.” “So we’ll decide the matter by lot.”
The Cub leader told the boys that the one who received the shorter stub of paper should be declared winner.
Ross took his turn first. After studying the slips which Mr. Hatfield held half-concealed in his hand, he finally drew one forth.
In length, it appeared fairly short.
Dan’s turn came next. Thinking that Ross already had won, he selected a slip carelessly. To his astonishment, it was a stub end—at least two inches shorter than the paper the other boy had drawn.
“Dan wins!” cried Chips gleefully.
Ross was too crestfallen to speak. He started to say that the contest hadn’t been fair, but choked off the words. After all, he had protested at shooting a second time, and had favored drawing lots.
“I’m sorry, Ross,” Dan said, noticing the other’s keen disappointment. “If it means so much to you, keep the role.”
Ross shook his head and tried to grin.
“No, you won the part and it’s yours for good,” he said.
“Well spoken, Ross,” said Mr. Hatfield, clapping him on the back. “A Cub has to be a good sport about losing out. You’ll be an asset to the play as the Sheriff of Nottingham.”
“Oh, sure,” Ross murmured, smiling weakly.
The Cubs started toward the target, intending to retrieve their arrows.
Before they could cross the range, three arrows were shot in rapid succession over their heads. Each lodged in almost the center of the target.
Amazed, the boys whirled around. The archer who had sent the arrows winging had drawn his bow from a long distance away. But he was nowhere in sight.
“Who shot those arrows?” Mr. Hatfield demanded. “That was real shooting!”
“I think they came from that clump of bushes to the right!” Brad exclaimed. “It must be that mysterious fellow who’s always taking shots over our heads. Let’s nab him.”
Thus urged, the Cubs made a dash for the clump of foliage.
Surrounding the area from which the arrows had been shot, the Cubs closed in.
But, after whipping through the bushes, they were unable to find the mysterious archer.
“The fellow knew we would be after him,” Brad remarked, carefully looking about on the ground for telltale clues. “He must have run off the moment he shot the arrows.”
“He’s good too,” spoke up Ross. “Better than our champion, Dan Carter.”
From the Den 1 boy’s tone, it was evident that he still smarted under loss of the star role in the play. Dan, however, refused to be annoyed.
“He’s a lot better shot than I am,” he agreed.
“We ought to find him and let him take the part,” Ross went on, determined to make the Den 2 boy feel uncomfortable. “He’d show us some real shooting.”
“I wish we could trail him,” Dan replied. “He’d be an asset to our play.”
“He must be a youngster too,” added Brad, pointing to several footprints he had found beside a bush. “See, his shoe is shorter than mine.”
The cluster of footprints appeared in a tiny clearing which gave an unobstructed view of the target.
“He must have stood here when he shot those three arrows,” Brad said. “The question is, which way did he go?”
Some of the Cubs were for combing the entire wooded section. However, Mr. Hatfield, who had followed the boys, advised against such action.
“The person easily could elude us, for apparently he knows the trails well,” he declared. “Furthermore, we have work to do. Now that Dan definitely has been chosen as Robin Hood, we must begin to whip our play into shape.”
“How about the other roles?” asked Midge. “Who is to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”
“We’ve decided to give that role to Ross.”
“I knew it!” Ross muttered. “Why can’t I be Allan-a-Dale?”
“We’re not ready for the scenes in which that character appears,” the Cub leader explained patiently. “You’ll make a fine sheriff. Besides, Mr. Holloway tells me we’ll be able to refilm the banquet scene with no change except the addition of costumes.”
“Oh, fine!” Ross grumbled.
Returning to the clearing, all the Cubs worked hard for the next hour and a half. As the archery contest had been the main attraction, many of the parents began to drift away.
By mid-afternoon, only the Cubs and a few of their fathers remained. The boys were reacting a scene which had given them trouble, when Red called attention to a car that had driven into the grounds from the main road.
“Why, that looks like Mr. Kain,” Dan remarked. “I guess he drove out to see what we’re doing here.”
“He probably wants to make certain we aren’t doing any damage,” added Red.
Mr. Kain alighted from his car and sauntered over to the group. After speaking to several of the boys, he asked for Mr. Hatfield.
“He went off somewhere for a minute,” Brad replied. “Anything we can do?”
“Well, I merely drove out to see that everything was under control here,” the bank employee answered. “I see you’ve cleared away this area in front of the castle very efficiently.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Brad, pleased by the praise. “A Cub always keeps a promise.”
“I’ll look around a bit. Don’t mind me, boys. Go on with whatever you were doing.”
Mr. Kain wandered off in the general direction of the castle and vanished from view. Belatedly, it occurred to Brad that he had neglected to tell the bank man about the broken window.
“I’ll do it before he leaves,” he thought.
The scene upon which the Cubs were working finally was finished. Satisfied with the filming, Mr. Holloway told the boys to snatch a brief rest.
Brad took advantage of this period to go in search of Mr. Kain. The man had been gone so long that the boy wondered what had detained him.
As he rounded a corner of the vine-covered castle, he came upon the bank employee. Mr. Kain was gazing at the broken window.
“Well!” he remarked, seeing Brad. “When we gave the Cub Scouts permission to use this property, we assumed they would exercise care.”
“We did, too,” replied Brad, ready to defend the organization. “If you’re referring to that broken window, we didn’t smash it.”
“No? I don’t recall seeing that it was broken when I inspected the premises a few days ago.”
“It was though,” Brad assured him. “I meant to tell you about it, but forgot.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Kain spoke coldly. “It seems the Cubs forget quite a few things.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Brad said. “It’s the truth, we didn’t smash the window. When we first came here, we found it broken. Vines covered the panes, so it wasn’t noticed.”
“Since then, the Cubs have been going in and out whenever they felt like it.”
“I guess we did roam around a bit inside,” Brad admitted. “But no harm was done. I’m sure of that.”
“I’ll see that the window is repaired. However, there are other matters that concern me. Your failure to keep a promise, for instance.”
Brad was dumbfounded. “My promise?” he echoed. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Kain.”
“A promise was given me that if I allowed the Cub Scouts to use this property, all the dead brush would be cleared away.”
“We did the job too,” Brad said indignantly. “You said yourself we worked very efficiently.”
“You did as far as clearing space for an archery range. I’ll admit that the grounds look very well out front where they show. But the area behind the castle hasn’t been touched. And the fire hazard is greater there than elsewhere.”
“Why, I thought all the work had been done,” Brad said in dismay. “Show me the place you mean.”
“Gladly.”
Mr. Kain led the Den Chief to the section of the estate which had been assigned to Ross to clear.
“I don’t wonder you’re annoyed, Mr. Kain,” Brad said as he viewed the untouched accumulation of brush. “This area was assigned to one of the boys from Den 1. I thought the work had been done.”
“Unless the Cubs keep their promises, I can’t allow them to continue to use the grounds.”
“The work will be done no later than tomorrow,” Brad promised grimly. “I’ll give you my word.”
The Den Chief’s straightforward manner impressed the bank employee.
“Very well,” he said, satisfied by the promise. “The Cubs may continue to use the grounds here, provided the work is done by tomorrow night. If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to put my foot down. The truth is, some of the bank officials aren’t much in favor of the Cubs roaming around here. If any damage should be done, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“We’ll take precautions,” Brad promised again.
Mr. Kain did not wait to see Mr. Hatfield, but went directly to his car. As he bade Brad good-bye, however, he warned once more that he would be back within a day or two to make another inspection.
Scarcely had the car driven away than Dan sought his friend to learn what was wrong.
“Plenty!” Brad snapped. “That lazy Ross Langdon really has fouled us up this time! We’re apt to get bounced from here, and all because he didn’t attend to the work assigned him.”
“Golly, if we had to leave here with only part of our play filmed, we’d be sunk,” Dan murmured. “Let’s put the bee on Ross right now.”
The two boys sought the Den 1 Cub, who at the moment was being measured for his sheriff’s costume. His paper route had provided a substantial sum for the purchase of materials which Mrs. Holloway had offered to sew.
Ross, however, could not make up his mind whether he wanted a home-made costume or one he might purchase.
“I think I could make you a very nice outfit,” Mrs. Holloway told the boy.
“I want a jerkin and seagreen hose,” Ross declared. “Also a cap with a feather.”
“Don’t you think we should omit the feather?” Mrs. Holloway suggested. “After all, it won’t do for you to look too much like Robin Hood.”
“Yes, but I want a feather,” Ross argued. “Can’t I have it?”
Before Mrs. Holloway could answer, Brad and Dan came up.
“If the fitting is over, we want to see you a minute,” Brad said to the boy.
“What for?” he demanded suspiciously.
“Oh, you’ll find out,” Brad said.
Mrs. Holloway, whose patience had been worn by Ross’ insistent demands, declared that she had finished taking measurements. Rather reluctantly, the Den 1 boy followed Brad and Dan across the clearing.
“Where you taking me?” he asked.
“Just come along,” Brad returned shortly.
As the boys rounded the castle, Ross began to catch on to what was in store.
“Oh, you’re going to rag me about not getting the brush cleaned up,” he guessed. “Well, I’ve been too busy with my paper route. Three customers kicked yesterday because their papers were delivered late. I’ve no time to be doing grubby work out here.”
“The rest of us have work too,” Brad retorted. “By not doing what you were supposed to, you got us in bad with Mr. Kain.”
“Unless the brush is cleared away by tomorrow night, the Cubs stand to lose the use of this property,” Dan added severely.
“Wouldn’t that be too bad?” Ross drawled. “Then you wouldn’t get the role of Robin Hood!”
Brad whirled around to glare at the Den 1 boy.
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat, Ross!” he said curtly. “You promised to clear your section of land and you’re going to do it or get out of the Pack! We don’t want a Cub who doesn’t do his part or keep a promise.”
The words shocked Ross. “You wouldn’t kick me out—” he stammered, and then with more confidence, he added: “You couldn’t anyhow! You haven’t the authority.”
“Wait until Mr. Hatfield hears about this!”
“So you’re a tattler, Brad?”
“No, I’m not,” the Den Chief replied hotly. “I just want to bring you to a realization of your responsibility to the organization.”
“Aw, you’re taking it too seriously.”
“It will be a serious matter if we lose this site after all the work we’ve done here.”
“Oh, keep your shirt on!” Ross retorted. Angrily, he turned and started away from the two boys.
“You’re refusing to do the work?” Brad called after him.
“Who said I was?” Ross flung over his shoulder. “It will be done. Just don’t rush me.”
Ross’ exasperating reply left Dan and Brad as much in doubt as ever.
Was the Den 1 boy merely putting them aside, or did he intend to do the work assigned to him?
“Let’s report him to Mr. Hatfield,” Dan proposed. “He’s stalling.”
Brad was unwilling to trouble the Cub leader about the matter unless he found it impossible to reason with Ross.
“I think he intends to clean up the brush,” he said. “He only wants to keep us uneasy about it and guessing.”
“Why don’t we do the job ourselves?”
“Because that’s exactly what Ross is hoping we’ll do.”
“I suppose so, Brad. But we gave our word to Mr. Kain the work would be done. I’d rather let Ross have the laugh on us than break a promise.”
“So would I, Dan. But I have a hunch Ross is only playing possum on us. Tell you what! Let’s let the matter go until tomorrow. If he hasn’t done the job by then, we’ll do it ourselves and report him to Mr. Hatfield.”
“Suits me, only I’m in favor of reporting him right now.”
“We could,” the Den Chief agreed reluctantly. “It seems a little like tattling though. Also, if Mr. Hatfield finds out how Ross has acted, he might ask him to resign from the Cubs. That would be tough on him. Ross wants to stay in the organization, even if he does do a lot of crabbing.”
“Okay, give him another chance,” Dan consented. “He isn’t a bad sort except for being lazy and conceited.”
The boys agreed to meet the next afternoon at 2P.M.at Brad’s home. If unable to catch a ride they would hike to the Castle grounds.
“It shouldn’t take the two of us more than three hours to clean up the section, if Ross fails to do it,” Dan declared. “Suppose we’ll run into the Ghost of the Castle?”
“Say, that reminds me! I want to compare those arrows that were shot into the target today with the one we picked up at the gardener’s place.”
“I already have, Brad.”
“Do they match?”
“Perfectly.”
“The same person who shot at the target today must have hidden out in the woods at that other estate.”
“The place isn’t far from here,” Brad remarked, gazing thoughtfully toward the woods. “I wish we could find out who is spying on us.”
“We know a couple of things about him,” Dan said with a laugh. “He’s a dandy shot with the longbow, and besides, he’s something of a show-off!”
Presently the two boys rejoined the other Cubs. Ross, they learned, had complained that he was tired, and had caught a ride into Webster City.
“Tired, my right eye!” Dan snorted. “He was afraid we would nail him on that job, and wasn’t taking any chances.”
Since the day of their encounter with the unfriendly gardener, Brad had sought without success to learn who owned the estate. Reminded of his lack of information, the boy made inquiry of Mr. Holloway.
“I did hear who is living there,” the Den Dad said, trying to recollect. “The place is rented, I believe, to a retired army colonel. Someone told me he is seriously ill.”
“You don’t recall his name?”
“Can’t think of it now, Brad. It may come to me later.”
“I wonder if the owner has any children?”
“Not that I heard of, Brad. But then, I never had any particular interest. Anything on your mind, Brad?”
“No, I was merely curious about our neighbors. I’ve been wondering too, who that mysterious archer may be.”
“Whoever he is, he’s an expert with the bow,” Mr. Holloway declared. “I wish we could catch him though. Accurate as he is, he shouldn’t be shooting whenever the urge strikes him. He might hit someone.”
Presently the Cubs brought their day’s rehearsal to a close. Mr. Holloway told the boys he would develop the films and have them ready for a showing by the following night.
“We’re getting along well,” he praised the Cubs. “I hear though, that some of the organizations competing for the prize are spending considerable on scenery and costumes. So we’ll have to work hard if we hope to win.”
The next morning Dan and Brad spent several hours working with Mr. Hatfield to improve the script for their play. That job completed, they went to their separate homes for lunch and then met again at Brad’s home.
By this hour the weather had turned very sultry, but with no indication of rain.
“It’s going to be a hot, dusty walk out to the Castle,” Brad remarked as he and Dan set off down the highway. “I thought maybe Dad would drive us out, but he had some other work to do.”
“The worst will be if we get out there and discover Ross hasn’t cleaned up the brush,” Dan added.
Fearing the worst, both boys had equipped themselves with large rakes and cutting tools. The articles were cumbersome to carry. Before they had covered three-quarters of the distance, both Brad and Dan were covered with perspiration.
“This day is a scorcher,” Dan declared, mopping his forehead. “The paper this morning warned householders to go easy on using water. The shortage is acute.”
Brad had spied a roadside stand a short distance ahead.
“I’ll treat you to a bottle of pop,” he invited. “That will revive us so we can get to the Castle without wilting.”
“I can sure use a little moisture,” Dan accepted readily. “Lead me to it.”
A woman in blue gingham operated the stand, selling vegetables and a few soft drinks.
The boys bought and paid for their pop, sipping the cool liquid slowly. A friendly individual, the woman asked them about the Cub Scout organization, its aims and purpose.
Brad politely explained that Den 1 and Den 2 were included in a larger classification known as the Pack. Cub advancement, he pointed out, was based upon the completion of a set of achievements.
“When a boy finishes Wolf requirements, he is awarded the Wolf Cub rank and badge,” Dan carried on the explanation. “As soon as a Wolf Cub is ten years old, he works to complete the Bear Cub achievements. Upon reaching his eleventh birthday and after being a Bear, he may become a Lion Cub.”
“You’re a Lion?” inquired the operator of the stand.
“A Bear,” Dan corrected. “Brad, though, is a Boy Scout as well as Den Chief. He keeps the younger boys in line for Mr. Hatfield.”
“I try, you mean,” laughed Brad. “As far as one Cub is concerned, I’ve not been very successful.”
“Meaning Ross,” grinned Dan. “Well, keep trying. You may soften him up in the end.”
“If he hasn’t done his work out at the Castle, I’m going to adopt drastic methods,” Brad threatened. “Finished your drink, Dan? Let’s move along before it gets any hotter.”
The cool drinks scarcely quenched the thirst of the two boys. Before they had walked another quarter of a mile, they were as miserable as before.
“No drinking water at the Castle either,” Dan remarked. “We should have brought our canteens.”
The boys passed a farmhouse and rounded a hill. From the summit, they were afforded a clear view of the wooded castle area.
The stone building with its many odd-shaped towers and turrets appeared as a dark blot against the sky. Behind it, the horizon seemed misty.
“Say, is that haze or smoke?” Brad demanded, halting on the brow of the hill.
“It’s smoke!” exclaimed Dan. “And it seems to be coming from the woods directly behind the Castle! Maybe Ross is out there burning up the trash.”
“If he is, the fire has gone out of control!” Brad cried in alarm. “Come on, Dan! We’ve got to get there quick!”
The two boys dashed down the hill, climbed a fence, and raced across a cleared field toward the castle property.
As they ran, they were increasingly alarmed to observe that the column of smoke rapidly was growing blacker.
“It’s coming from directly behind the Castle!” Brad cried.
“That’s the area where Ross was supposed to clean up the brush,” Dan panted, hard at his heels. “You don’t think he was crazy enough to try to burn the stuff?”
“Don’t know,” Brad returned, leaping over a small ditch. “Everything is so dry, it will be hard to stop a fire once it gets any sort of start.”
The boys were dismayed as they drew closer to see that the Castle was enveloped in a wispy smoke which seeped out from the woods.
Furthermore, a light breeze was blowing toward them.
“The Castle will be sure to go unless that fire can be checked fast!” Brad gasped.
The boys now were close enough to be certain that the smoke did not come from a brush pile.
“Dan, we’ve got to work fast!” the older boy directed, halting abruptly. “We can’t do anything here alone and without equipment. We’ve got to call a fire department.”
“The city engine won’t come this far out.”
“Then call Mr. Hatfield and Burton Holloway! Have them round up the cubs, and bring all the equipment they can muster.”
“The nearest phone must be at that farmhouse we passed,” Dan recalled. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
Brad ran on alone toward the Castle. As yet he could see no flames, but the air was acrid with fumes.
“Ross!” he shouted, thinking that the Den 1 boy might be somewhere in the woods. “Ross Langdon!”