Dan Carter And The Money Box Part 26

Mr. Hatfield glanced quickly about the camp. No one however, was within sight.

"Of all the dirty tricks!" Dan exploded. "Taking the food right out of our mouths!"

"How about the bacon and eggs?" Fred demanded. "Have they walked off too?"

A check disclosed that the other food remained untouched.

"Go ahead and fry your bacon and eggs," Mr. Hatfield advised. "Brad and I will take a quick look around."

The pair circled the camp, even venturing a short distance into the woods. Because the ground was firm and dry, they could find no telltale footprints. Nor did they see anyone.

Giving up the search, they returned a few minutes later to share bacon and eggs with the Cubs.

"This supper is ruined without the biscuits," Red complained. "I made 'em super! Honestly, I did."

"I'll bet they turned out so hard you were afraid to serve 'em," Babe joked. "So to fool us, you buried 'em."

"That's not so," Red denied hotly. "The biscuits were perfect when Mr.

Hatfield and I went to gather wood. Someone stole 'em!"

"It may have been that tramp who hid out in the house," Brad said thoughtfully. "For all we know, he may still be around somewhere."

"Just wait until I meet him again!" Midge declared, sc.r.a.ping the last bit of egg from his tinfoil cup plate. "I'll give him a piece of my mind!"

"Maybe it wasn't the tramp," speculated Chips. He poked the coals with a stick, and having stirred the flames, tossed a crumpled ball of foil to the fire.

"Who else could it have been?" demanded Fred. "We've seen no one on this road. Only cars that whiz past at twenty-five miles an hour."

Chips had fastened his gaze upon the unpainted dwelling owned by the Widow Jones. The old house was some distance away, but visible through the trees.

"Remember that runaway boy?" he reminded the Cubs. "He was taken back to Mrs. Jones' House, wasn't he?"

"That's right," said Mr. Hatfield. Squatting beside the fire, he had listened with interest to the speculation of the Cubs.

"Well, I'll bet a cent he went off with our food!" Chips announced.

"Let's go to the house and find out!"

"Yeah!" cried Midge. "We aren't going to let him get by with it, are we?"

"Just a minute, boys," interposed Mr. Hatfield. "You're leaping to pretty fast conclusions, in my opinion. It would be a mistake-one of the worst kind-to go to Mrs. Jones and complain about the boy. We might be doing him a rank injustice."

"Don't forget the tramp," added Brad significantly. "A second ago, you fellows were equally sure he was the culprit."

"Well, it wouldn't do any harm to go to the house and inquire," Chips insisted. "We could be sort of-" he groped for a word.

"Discreet?" asked Mr. Hatfield, smiling.

"That's what I mean!"

"I had intended to stop at the Jones' house anyway," Mr. Hatfield admitted, starting to stamp out the dying coals. "But my purpose is entirely friendly. I'm curious to learn how Jack is getting along."

"Let's all go," Chips urged. "We want to see if he's well fed-especially on biscuits!"

"Chips, I'm a bit uncertain-"

"Oh, I'll watch myself," the boy a.s.sured him quickly. "You can do most of the talking. We'll just listen and keep our eyes open."

"I'm sure I can depend on you," the Cub leader nodded. "Well, let's clean camp. It's getting on toward dark."

The Cubs put out the fire, covering the smoking coals with loose dirt.

Their knapsacks loaded, they soon were ready to hit the trail.

"Now remember, boys," Mr. Hatfield warned as the group approached the Jones dwelling, "even if you are suspicious, don't make any accusations.

Jack already is in a bad spot."

"If we complain that he stole our food, Mrs. Jones might send him straight back to the Inst.i.tute," added Brad. "We ought to be dead sure of our ground before we open our lips."

Smoke curled from the chimney of the widow's house, so the Cubs knew someone was at home. The yard remained untidy, reminding them that they still had a Sat.u.r.day task before them.

However, there was evidence that someone had been doing considerable work. Kindling wood had been cut and cord wood neatly sawed and stacked by the sagging porch.

Mr. Hatfield rapped on the door. In a moment, Mrs. Jones appeared in her kitchen ap.r.o.n, smiling as she saw the Cubs.

The Cub leader politely told her he had come to inquire how Jack Phillips was getting along.

Immediately Mrs. Jones looked troubled. "That boy!" she exclaimed. "If I haven't had a handful!"

"I hope he hasn't been giving you a bad time," Mr. Hatfield returned.

"Well, yes, and no. There's good stuff in the lad, but he's a problem."

"Keeping him at home is one of them, I judge."

Mrs. Jones drew a deep sigh. "Jack is off somewhere this very minute.

Early this morning I told him to cut the wood. He went through the job like a house afire, and then before I knew it, he was gone."

"Wandering the woods perhaps?"

"Yes, that boy is like a wild things with his love of the outdoors. He went off for three hours yesterday and I gave him a switching when he came back. But it didn't prevent him from trying the same trick today."

Mr. Hatfield smiled as the widow mentioned the switching. She was a frail little woman, weighing a scant one hundred pounds. Jack, by contrast, was built like a football player and heavy for his age.

"I don't think the switching hurt him any," Mrs. Jones said. "The scamp sort of laughed while I was doing it. I'm right provoked at him today though. He took the rifle when he left."

"Why, that's rather dangerous."

"Oh, Jack's a good shot," Mrs. Jones informed him. "I wouldn't mind him using the gun, if he'd ask me for it. It's those sneaking ways of his that annoy me."