the ground is soft.”
“I’ll start sprouting roots if I sit here any longer,” Chips complained. He slapped angrily at a mosquito which buzzed around his head. “How long are we supposed to stay here?”
“I’m sticking until relieved. If you’re soft and want to pull out, go ahead.”
Dan waited, but Chips made no move to depart.
“Well, Chips?”
“Oh, you know I’ll suffer it out,” the boy muttered. “Quit rubbing it in!”
After that Chips made no further complaint, though at intervals he twisted and squirmed and emitted loud groans which startled a gray squirrel in the tree overhead.
Throughout the long watch, not a person was seen nor a sound heard on the old logging road. In the bush shelter near the barrier, the two cubs passed the time by counting cars which traveled on the main highway. Even Dan became a bit careless, making less effort to keep out of sight.
Then suddenly he was startled to hear approaching footsteps. Quickly he drew back into the leaves, pulling Chips with him.
As the two Cubs waited, Saul Dobbs came into view. He walked to the barrier gate and stood there for a few minutes, one foot on the lower rail, gazing up and down the road.
“He’s looking for someone,” Dan whispered.
“Mr. Silverton maybe.”
“Silverton wouldn’t use this old logging road, Chips. Not with that fine car of his.”
Dobbs stood a moment longer at the gate, and then taking an old envelope and a pencil stub from his pocket, scribbled a message.
The Cubs saw him spear the paper on the barrier fence. However, the breeze fluttered it to the ground.
Picking up the message, Dobbs reread it and appeared to hesitate. To the bitter disappointment of Chips and Dan, he then tore it to pieces and thrust the scraps into his pocket.
“Wonder why he did that?” Chips whispered.
Dan motioned for his companion to be quiet. Dobbs had turned and now was coming directly toward their hiding place.
Unexpectedly, the man halted, staring at something on the road. Dan and Chips felt their blood turn to ice cubes. For there on the moist ground were several footprints made from Chips’ shoe.
Dobbs stared long and hard at the imprints and gazed up and down the road. Apparently satisfied that no one had been in the vicinity recently, he finally turned and went off in the direction from which he had come.
“Whew! That was a close call!” Chips muttered when it again was safe to speak aloud. “I see what you mean now about leaving tracks, Dan. We doggone near gave ourselves away.”
“In the future we’ll have to be even more careful. And we’d better warn the other Cubs too. Wonder why Dobbs tore up that note after he wrote it?”
“He acted as if he were expecting someone and wanted to leave ’em a message. Just our bad luck he changed his mind.”
“Anyway, our day hasn’t been wasted after all,” Dan declared.
Time wore on uneventfully. Finally at six o’clock, the two Cubs spied Fred and Mack coming up the pavement at a leisurely pace.
Slipping from their hiding place, they greeted them with intense relief.
“Anything doing here?” Fred inquired.
Dan related how they had seen Saul Dobbs at the gate.
“Nothing so strange in that,” Mack commented. “After all, this road runs through Mr. Silverton’s property.”
“The only queer part was that he wrote a note to someone and then tore it up,” Dan pointed out. “It was almost as if he thought it over and decided it was risky business—that someone might find it.”
“He nearly found us,” Chips cut in. “Better be careful in leaving footprints on this road.”
“How long will you stay here?” Dan asked the two newcomers as he and Chips prepared to leave.
“Mr. Hatfield said we could take over until eight o’clock,” Mack answered. “Then he and Midge’s father will watch for awhile.”
“Lucky guys,” grinned Chips. “Especially if the mosquitoes are in biting trim!”
For the next two days, the Cubs took turns watching the exit of the old logging road. Though they remained faithful to their assignment, the novelty began to wear off and the task became increasingly tedious.
True, the Cubs developed a certain technique for making time pass more quickly. Working always in pairs, they brought books, magazines, and an occasional card game with them to the hide-out in the brush.
Even so, a two-hour vigil seemed endless. Mosquitoes were a constant torment, and nothing ever seemed to happen.
After his initial appearance, Saul Dobbs did not return again to the exit of the logging road. Nor did they glimpse the mysterious station wagon which had so intrigued their interest.
“Maybe it was an accident it came down this road the other night,” Brad said late one afternoon as he and Dan were taking their trick together. “It’s a cinch it’s not coming back. We’ve wasted our time.”
“I’m beginning to think so too,” Dan replied in a discouraged voice. “Gosh, this place is like a steam bath!”
“The worst it’s been since we took over,” Brad agreed.
The afternoon had turned unusually hot and sultry. Not a leaf stirred in the trees overhead. Wiping the perspiration from his face, Dan got up to stretch his half-paralyzed legs.
Through the gap in the trees overhead, he could see only a tiny patch of sky which seemed to be darkening.
“Looks like another rain cooking up,” he observed.
“Cripes! Not again!” Brad moaned, peering up at the overcast sky. “If this keeps on, I’m going to build myself an Ark.”
“Better start the carpenter work then, Brad. It sure looks like rain. And she’s coming up fast this time.”
Moving out of their shelter the better to view the sky, the two boys were somewhat alarmed to note that a large black cloud was rolling in fast from the west.
“That means rain and a hard one,” Brad said. “Think we ought to strike out for home?”
“Well, I hate to leave our post until Mr. Hatfield gives the order,” Dan said after a moment’s consideration. “Anyway, we’ve waited too long. We never could get home ahead of the rain.”
“You’re probably right,” Brad agreed, anxiously studying the fast-moving clouds. “The storm is due to break almost any minute. Lucky we brought along our slickers.”
Buttoning
