Dan Carter-- Cub Scout

by Mildred A. Wirt

  CHAPTER 8 Rain

  The bright beam of Mr. Hatfield's flashlight revealed the torn half of ashipping tag from a freight shipment. Of recent date, it bore thedestination of Malborne.

  "Malborne is a city of about 500,000 population to the east of here," theCub leader remarked.

  Disappointed, Dan dropped the tag to the ground. "I guess this isn'tanything after all," he said.

  "No, wait, Dan!" Mr. Hatfield retrieved the torn ticket. "This may havebeen dropped by one of the men in the station wagon. As a clue, itdoesn't mean much now, but later on, it might."

  Carefully, the Cub leader placed the soiled scrap of cardboard in hisjacket pocket.

  "How do you figure all this?" Brad asked earnestly. "Do you think thosemen, whoever they are, may be stealing pheasants and maybe shipping themout of here?"

  "Could be, Brad. At any rate. I'm convinced Mr. Silverton doesn't knowthis 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," Bradpointed out. "These summer nights it doesn't get dark until about nineo'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'lltalk to the fathers of the Cubs to see what they say. Meanwhile, let'sforget about that station wagon."

  As the three rowed downstream to the Holloway cabin a little later, theynoticed that the moon again was veiled by dark clouds. Even as theyreached the dock, a few splatters of rain stirred the water.

  "Here it comes again," Mr. Hatfield sighed. "This has been one of thewettest 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 downsteadily.

  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 Cubleader promised, starting the motor. "If this rain keeps on, we won't beable to do anything for a day or two in any event."

  The rains continued. Although not heavy enough to occasion alarm as tothe level of the river, the Cubs were kept indoors.

  For want of an occupation, Dan spent much time swimming at the "Y". Heworked on the official buckskin record of Den meetings, bringing it up todate. And he completed a stamp album which he intended to show in thehobby and handicraft exhibit planned by the Pack.

  After that, confinement began to fret him. On the third day when he camedownstairs for breakfast, his first act was to glare at the weatherreport 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. "Thesun seems to be straggling through the clouds."

  "It does look brighter," Dan admitted, willing to hope. "Maybe it willclear 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 wasintently studying a worm wriggling across the sidewalk, when a carstopped 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 Cubleader.

  "I'm about ready to blow my top!" he told Mr. Hatfield. "Three days nowwith nothing to do!"

  "It's been tough, Dan. The other Cubs feel the same way. Itching forsomething to do. But rain or shine, we'll have our regular Den meetingFriday night at the cabin?"

  "Meanwhile?"

  "Well, if it weren't so wet, we might start that patrol at the oldlogging 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 wecan to prove that the Cubs had nothing to do with killing thosepheasants."

  "When can we start, Mr. Hatfield?"

  "That's for the Cubs to decide. Not much use in keeping watch too earlyin the day. Midge's father thought we might go on duty about four in theafternoon and stay until after dark. One of the fathers will keep theboys 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. Theground will dry some before afternoon."

  "All right," Mr. Hatfield consented. "If it doesn't rain any more, findanother Cub and go out there at four o'clock. I'll send someone torelieve you by six."

  "Oh, thanks, Mr. Hatfield!"

  "You may not thank me by the time your stint is finished," the Cub leaderlaughed as he shifted gears. "It will be a tedious grind, and probably afruitless one. Oh, yes, one thing! Keep out of sight, and be carefulabout 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 thetelephone. First he called Brad, but the Den Chief was helping his fatherwith 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 outof sight in the bushes near the old logging road exit, and he fretted atinactivity.

  "You stay here and keep watch," he directed Dan. "I think I'll wanderaround and look for different types of leaves to press and mount in ascrapbook."

  "Nothing doing," Dan promptly vetoed the idea. "We stick together."

  "But I'm tired of hunching under these hot, bug-eaten bushes! No one'scome here in broad daylight and you know it!"

  "We don't know when that station wagon may return, Chips. We've got todevelop patience."

  "You and your preachy talk! It won't do any harm to move around a little.My legs are getting cramped."

  "Mr. Hatfield said we'd defeat our purpose if we walk around and leave alot of footprints. Especially when 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 longare we supposed to stay here?"

  "I'm sticking until relieved. If you're soft and want to pull out, goahead."

  Dan waited, but Chips made no move to depart.

  "Well, Chips?"

  "Oh, you know I'll suffer it out," the boy muttered. "Quit rubbing itin!"

  After that Chips made no further complaint, though at intervals hetwisted and squirmed and emitted loud groans which startled a graysquirrel in the tree overhead.

  Throughout the long watch, not a person was seen nor a sound heard on theold logging road. In the bush shelter near the barrier, the two cubspassed the time by counting cars which traveled on the main highway. EvenDan became a bit careless, making less effort to keep out of sight.

  Then suddenly he was startled to hear approaching footsteps. Quickly hedrew back into the leaves, pulling Chips with him.

  As the two Cubs waited, Saul Dobbs came into view. He walked to thebarrier gate and stood there for a few minutes, one foot on the lowerrail, 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 finecar of his."

  Dobbs stood a moment longer at the gate, and then taking an old envelopeand a pencil stub from his pocket, scribbled a message.

  The Cubs saw him spear the paper on the barrier fence. However, thebreeze fluttered it to the ground.

  Picking up the message, Dobbs reread it and appeared to hesitate. To thebitter disappointment of Chips and Dan, he then tore it to pieces andthrust 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 wascoming directly toward their hiding place.

  Unexpectedly, the man halted, staring at something on the road. Dan andChips felt their blood turn to ice cubes. For there on the moist groundwere several footprints made from Chips' shoe.

  Dobbs stared long and hard at the imprints and gazed up and down theroad. 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 tospeak aloud. "I see what you mean now about leaving tracks, Dan. Wedoggone near gave ourselves away."

  "In the future we'll have to be even more careful. And we'd better warnthe other Cubs too. Wonder why Dobbs tore up that note after he wroteit?"

  "He acted as if he were expecting someone and wanted to leave 'em amessage. 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 spiedFred 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 runsthrough Mr. Silverton's property."

  "The only queer part was that he wrote a note to someone and then tore itup," Dan pointed out. "It was almost as if he thought it over and decidedit was risky business--that someone might find it."

  "He nearly found us," Chips cut in. "Better be careful in leavingfootprints on this road."

  "How long will you stay here?" Dan asked the two newcomers as he andChips prepared to leave.

  "Mr. Hatfield said we could take over until eight o'clock," Mackanswered. "Then he and Midge's father will watch for awhile."

  "Lucky guys," grinned Chips. "Especially if the mosquitoes are in bitingtrim!"

  For the next two days, the Cubs took turns watching the exit of the oldlogging road. Though they remained faithful to their assignment, thenovelty began to wear off and the task became increasingly tedious.

  True, the Cubs developed a certain technique for making time pass morequickly. Working always in pairs, they brought books, magazines, and anoccasional card game with them to the hide-out in the brush.

  Even so, a two-hour vigil seemed endless. Mosquitoes were a constanttorment, and nothing ever seemed to happen.

  After his initial appearance, Saul Dobbs did not return again to the exitof the logging road. Nor did they glimpse the mysterious station wagonwhich had so intrigued their interest.

  "Maybe it was an accident it came down this road the other night," Bradsaid 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 inthe trees overhead. Wiping the perspiration from his face, Dan got up tostretch his half-paralyzed legs.

  Through the gap in the trees overhead, he could see only a tiny patch ofsky which seemed to be darkening.

  "Looks like another rain cooking up," he observed.

  "Cripes! Not again!" Brad moaned, peering up at the overcast sky. "Ifthis keeps on, I'm going to build myself an Ark."

  "Better start the carpenter work then, Brad. It sure looks like rain. Andshe's coming up fast this time."

  Moving out of their shelter the better to view the sky, the two boys weresomewhat alarmed to note that a large black cloud was rolling in fastfrom the west.

  "That means rain and a hard one," Brad said. "Think we ought to strikeout for home?"

  "Well, I hate to leave our post until Mr. Hatfield gives the order," Dansaid after a moment's consideration. "Anyway, we've waited too long. Wenever could get home ahead of the rain."

  "You're probably right," Brad agreed, anxiously studying the fast-movingclouds. "The storm is due to break almost any minute. Lucky we broughtalong our slickers."

  Buttoning themselves into their long raincoats, the two boys prepared asbest they could for the expected downpour.

  Soon a faint breath of air rustled the tree leaves. In the quiet of theforest, the sound was ominous.

  "Here she comes!" muttered Brad.

  Scarcely had he spoken when a rumble of thunder echoed through the woods.A few drops of rain filtered down between the thick canopy of leaves.

  Then, wind and rain came on with a rush which sent the two boys deeperinto the woods for shelter.

  Though they flattened themselves against the lee side of two large oaks,they could find no protection. The rain began to fall in a torrent. Itlashed their faces, streamed down their slickers and soaked their shoes.

  Limbs loosened by the wind came crashing down. Now and then a vivid flashof lightning etched an electrical pattern across the dark sky.

  "It's not very safe here," Brad said, ill at ease.

  "We ought to seek shelter deeper in the woods, or get out entirely,"agreed Dan, buttoning his slicker tighter about him.

  Even as he spoke, a brilliant flash of lightning etched across the sky,so bright that momentarily it blinded the two boys. And the followingroar of thunder made them jump.

  Simultaneously, came a ripping, tearing sound which told them that theheart of a mighty tree had been struck.

  "Gosh! It's that big oak!" Dan exclaimed, squinting through the rain.

  The big tree came crashing down, smashing away smaller saplings andbushes in its path.

  "It might just as well have been this one," Dan murmured, gazing uneasilyup into the mass of swaying, wind-twisted boughs above his head. "We'rein a bad spot!"

  "How right you are," murmured Brad.

  A bright flash of lightning made the woods as bright as day. In thatmoment the boys saw the wind whirling like a vicious animal in thetreetops. And two hundred yards away another tree fell, making aresounding crash as it toppled.

  The sight spurred the Cubs to sudden decision.

  "Dan, I know Mr. Hatfield wouldn't want us to risk staying here in thisstorm," Brad said, seizing his companion's arm. "Come on, boy, we'regetting out of here!"