wait, Dan!” Mr. Hatfield retrieved the torn ticket. “This may have been dropped by one of the men in the station wagon. As a clue, it doesn’t mean much now, but later on, it might.”
Carefully, the Cub leader placed the soiled scrap of cardboard in his jacket pocket.
“How do you figure all this?” Brad asked earnestly. “Do you think those men, whoever they are, may be stealing pheasants and maybe shipping them out of here?”
“Could be, Brad. At any rate. I’m convinced Mr. Silverton doesn’t know this road is being used at night.”
“I wish we could keep watch and find out who comes here,” Dan proposed. “Maybe the Cubs could divide up into pairs and take turns staying here.”
“All night? Afraid your parents wouldn’t approve, Dan.”
“Whoever comes, seems to arrive fairly early in the evening,” Brad pointed out. “These summer nights it doesn’t get dark until about nine o’clock.”
“So you’re siding with Dan?” Mr. Hatfield said, chuckling.
“The Cubs would get a big kick out of keeping watch of this place, sir. Even if they only kept a daytime patrol.”
“We might learn something at that,” Mr. Hatfield conceded. “Well, I’ll talk to the fathers of the Cubs to see what they say. Meanwhile, let’s forget about that station wagon.”
As the three rowed downstream to the Holloway cabin a little later, they noticed that the moon again was veiled by dark clouds. Even as they reached the dock, a few splatters of rain stirred the water.
“Here it comes again,” Mr. Hatfield sighed. “This has been one of the wettest seasons in my recollection.”
By the time the three reached the dock, everyone except Mr. and Mrs. Holloway and their son had left the cabin. By then, rain was coming down steadily.
Brad and Dan, already wet through, made a dash for Mr. Hatfield’s car.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Holloway and the other fathers tomorrow,” the Cub leader promised, starting the motor. “If this rain keeps on, we won’t be able to do anything for a day or two in any event.”
The rains continued. Although not heavy enough to occasion alarm as to the level of the river, the Cubs were kept indoors.
For want of an occupation, Dan spent much time swimming at the “Y”. He worked on the official buckskin record of Den meetings, bringing it up to date. And he completed a stamp album which he intended to show in the hobby and handicraft exhibit planned by the Pack.
After that, confinement began to fret him. On the third day when he came downstairs for breakfast, his first act was to glare at the weather report in the morning paper.
“For crying out loud!” he complained bitterly. “More rain, the man says. Can you feature that?”
“Perhaps it’s a long range forecast,” his mother said encouragingly. “The sun seems to be straggling through the clouds.”
“It does look brighter,” Dan admitted, willing to hope. “Maybe it will clear up in a couple of weeks.”
By the time he had finished breakfast, the sun actually was shining. Greatly encouraged, Dan went outside to inspect the garden. He was intently studying a worm wriggling across the sidewalk, when a car stopped at the curb.
“Hi, there, Dan!” called Mr. Hatfield cheerily. “Wet enough for you?”
Dan grinned with pleasure and went over to the car to talk to the Cub leader.
“I’m about ready to blow my top!” he told Mr. Hatfield. “Three days now with nothing to do!”
“It’s been tough, Dan. The other Cubs feel the same way. Itching for something to do. But rain or shine, we’ll have our regular Den meeting Friday night at the cabin?”
“Meanwhile?”
“Well, if it weren’t so wet, we might start that patrol at the old logging road.”
“You mean we can do it?” Dan cried, his face cracking into a smile.
“I talked to most of the fathers. They’re in favor of doing anything we can to prove that the Cubs had nothing to do with killing those pheasants.”
“When can we start, Mr. Hatfield?”
“That’s for the Cubs to decide. Not much use in keeping watch too early in the day. Midge’s father thought we might go on duty about four in the afternoon and stay until after dark. One of the fathers will keep the boys company on the last shift.”
“May we start this afternoon?” Dan demanded eagerly.
“The woods are rather wet, don’t you think?”
“We could put on slickers and boots. Anyway, the sun’s out again. The ground will dry some before afternoon.”
“All right,” Mr. Hatfield consented. “If it doesn’t rain any more, find another Cub and go out there at four o’clock. I’ll send someone to relieve you by six.”
“Oh, thanks, Mr. Hatfield!”
“You may not thank me by the time your stint is finished,” the Cub leader laughed as he shifted gears. “It will be a tedious grind, and probably a fruitless one. Oh, yes, one thing! Keep out of sight, and be careful about leaving a lot of tracks.”
“We’ll defeat our purpose if anyone learns we’re watching the road.”
“Right. Well, good luck, Dan. I don’t look for anything to develop today, but starting the patrol will keep the Cubs out of mischief at least.”
Elated at the prospect of action, Dan immediately busied himself on the telephone. First he called Brad, but the Den Chief was helping his father with work about the house and could not make the trip to the woodland.
“I’ll take my stint tomorrow,” Brad promised.
Red, next on Dan’s list, begged off because he had the start of a cold. In the end it was Chips who agreed to go with him.
From the start, however, the vigil bored Chips. He disliked staying out of sight in the bushes near the old logging road exit, and he fretted at inactivity.
“You stay here and keep watch,” he directed Dan. “I think I’ll wander around and look for different types of leaves to press and mount in a scrapbook.”
“Nothing doing,” Dan promptly vetoed the idea. “We stick together.”
“But I’m tired of hunching under these hot, bug-eaten bushes! No one’s come here in broad daylight and you know it!”
“We don’t know when that station wagon may return, Chips. We’ve got to develop patience.”
“You and your preachy talk! It won’t do any harm to move around
