Round Table Plans
Two days had elapsed.
The Cubs were worried and so was Mr. Hatfield.
Twice since the disappearance of the money box, the Cub leader had been
called to the police station.
Each time he had been questioned politely, but detectives made it clear
they were not completely satisfied with his answers.
“Three persons have laid claim to that money, and one at least has come
fairly close to naming the amount you say was in the box,” Mr. Hatfield
was informed. “Furthermore, trustees of the church feel the cash should
be turned over to them because it was found on church property. Now you
say your home wasn’t broken into to your knowledge, and yet the box
disappeared. It doesn’t make sense unless your own son or one of the
Cubs—”
“The Cubs, one and all, are honest,” Mr. Hatfield retorted firmly.
“Anyway, they knew only that I took the box upstairs. I told no one where
I hid it. So let’s keep them out of this.”
The police had been quite decent about questioning the boys.
Even so, the Cubs felt that they were involved. Dan especially considered
that by finding the box he had brought trouble upon Mr. Hatfield and the
Den.
“Why did I have to go digging into that coal pile anyway?” he berated
himself. “We wouldn’t be in this mess except for me.”
“Nonsense, Dan,” Mr. Hatfield chided. “I’m glad you found the box.
Furthermore, we’ll not waste valuable time worrying about the matter. The
police are free to make any investigation they wish. We’ll cooperate.”
The Cub leader kept the Cubs so busy they had little time to think much
about the missing money box.
In addition to soliciting funds for the church, they worked almost daily
on their plans for King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table.
Den one in Webster City also would take part in the Crusade program. At
the end of the month the two dens expected to unite their efforts for a
gigantic knighting ceremony. Prizes were to be awarded the Den putting on
the best display of talent.
In a determined effort to beat their rivals, the boys of Den 2 assigned
themselves a full schedule of work.
Aided by their mothers, the Cubs constructed armor of cardboard. The
carefully cut pieces were painted with aluminum, bronze and gold.
Red and Chips decked themselves out in mesh-type trappings, fashioning
garments of burlap which they painted in metallic colors.
Next, the Cubs designed shields and mounted cardboard spears on the ends
of broomsticks.
“If we have time, I’ll make myself a cardboard horse,” Brad announced.
“Also, we ought to have some painted banners to hang on the walls. Then
this place will look like a regular knight’s hall.”
Temporarily, the Cubs were using the church study as a meeting place.
When the weather turned warm again in the Spring, they planned to resume
sessions in their own quarters, the cave high over the river.
Brad had made his own suit of armor by sewing small roofing discs onto
burlap. The Cubs, frankly envious, acknowledged the job as the best
turned out.
“I could make a good suit too if I had some of those discs,” Midge
Holloway remarked. “Where’d you buy ’em, Brad?”
“I didn’t. Saw a bunch of ’em lying on the ground near a new house that’s
being built. I asked the contractor if I could have ’em and he said I
could.”
“Say, are there any more of those discs?” Dan demanded eagerly.
“I guess so. I didn’t take them all.”
“I want some,” piped up Babe.
“So do I,” Chips chimed in. “Lead us to ’em, Brad.”
“It’s a long hike from here,” the older boy replied dubiously. “Fact is,
to get there we’d have to hike a couple of miles, going and coming. It’s
right at the edge of the marsh.”
This information temporarily dampened the enthusiasm of the Cubs. Then
Dan spoke up.
“Well, why don’t we go? It’s a good day for a hike. If we had more of
those roof discs, we could turn out armor that would look like the real
thing.”
“And we might win first prize!” Fred said, his interest kindling. “What
do you think about it, Dad?”
“Let’s take it to a vote,” his father returned. “All in favor of the
hike, say Aye.”
Every Cub voted to go.
“When do we start?” Dan asked impatiently. “If we don’t make it today,
those discs may be gone.”
“That’s right,” Brad agreed. “Even when I was there, not many were
kicking around.”
“Brad, you’re sure it’s all right to take the discs?” Mr. Hatfield asked.
“Yes, the contractor told me I might have all that were lying around.”
Reassured, the Cub leader agreed with the boys that no time should be
lost in hiking to the site.
“We might have a weiner roast too,” he proposed. “On the way, we’ll pass
a store and can buy anything we want.”
The Cubs quickly put away cardboard and paint. All were dressed warmly
enough for the hike except Babe who had to be sent home for sturdy shoes
and a heavier jacket.
The youngster was back at the church in ten minutes, however, his pockets
bulging.
“Now what have you got?” Chips asked him suspiciously.
Babe grinned and produced several crushed cookies and an apple.
“You and your appetite,” Chips muttered, shaking his head. “Why don’t you
grow up?”
Babe refused to take offense. “I thought I might get hungry on the way,”
he defended himself.
“You’re always hungry,” Chips retorted. “If you’d spend less time feeding
your face and more time studying the rule book, maybe you’d be promoted
to Wolf Rank.”
“Cut it out, Chips,” advised Brad, who had overheard the remark. “Babe is
catching onto Cub ways fast. I’ll wager he’ll be a Wolf before another
certain Wolf I know moves on up to Bear rank.”
“Now who’s rubbing it in?” Chips complained. “I’m working hard and you
know it!”
“Sure, sure,” Brad said, giving him a friendly clap on the back. “Only
maybe you ought to dig in a little harder on those elective requirements
before you toss stones at anyone else.”
Despite the lateness of the season, the day was a pleasant one. Selecting
Highway 23, the Cubs, led by Brad and Mr. Hatfield, soon set off in the
direction of the marsh.
Their way skirted a built-up area near the city limits. A short distance
beyond, they passed a sparsely settled section where a few new houses
were in process of construction.
“How much farther?” Babe asked, limping along beside Brad.
He had attached himself like a puppy to the older boy, but found it
impossible to imitate his smooth, easy gait.
“We’re almost there now,” Brad encouraged him. “Guess you aren’t used to
hiking, are you?”
“My feet hurt.”
“Sure, and why wouldn’t they, with those tight shoes? Better get yourself
some that fit, Babe. The Cubs do a lot of hiking.”
“Say, when do we eat?” demanded Red. The brisk walk had made him very
hungry.
“Well, we could have the roast before we gather discs,” Brad said,
glancing over the terrain. “It’s for the fellows to decide.”
“All in favor—” shouted Red.
Every Cub voted to halt then and there and build their fire.
Mr. Hatfield selected a suitable place at the edge of the marsh, not far
from the road. Under his direction, the boys cleared away dry leaves and
debris to insure that the fire could not spread.
While the Cubs roasted weiners on long sticks over the coals, Mr.
Hatfield again talked over plans for the coming Round Table jamboree.
“The Pack has chosen a motto or code of honor for this month,” he told
the boys. “It is this: ‘BE ALWAYS READY.’”
“I’m ready right now—for another weiner!” laughed Midge, reaching into
the sack Mr. Hatfield had brought along.
“I guess you meant the code in a more serious sense, didn’t you, Mr.
Hatfield?” Dan asked.
“That’s right, Dan. Knights of old always were ready to defend those who
could not help themselves. They were prepared to fight in the defense of
liberty.”
“Cubs can’t fight real battles,” protested Chips.
“Moral battles are very real ones,” the Cub leader corrected. “We must
strive always to maintain honor—never to allow our names to be
blackened.”
“Isn’t that what the cops are trying to do now?” Chips demanded before he
stopped to think how the question might sound. “They’re making such a
fuss about that old money box—”
Brad, who sat next to the boy, gave him a quick jab in the ribs.
Mr. Hatfield, however, did not take offense.
“I’m glad you brought up the matter of the money box, Chips,” he said
quietly. “The police are not trying to blacken my name. Quite the
contrary. Their job is to investigate. I have complete confidence that
they can bring to light no information which will discredit either myself
or any Cub Scout.”
Their meal finished, the boys now cleared away the litter. Brad and Mr.
Hatfield not only stamped out the dying coals, but for safety covered
them with loose dirt.
“Notice that old farmhouse,” Dan remarked, pointing to an unpainted,
tumble-down dwelling visible some distance away. “Wonder if anyone lives
there?”
“It looks deserted,” Brad agreed.
The house was a gloomy, two-story structure with sagging porches. Roof
shingles curled and the brick foundation had partly given away.
“Maybe that place has a ghost!” Midge suggested with a laugh. “Let’s go
over and find out!”
“I thought we came out here for roofing discs,” Brad reminded him. “If we
start off on a wild goose chase—”
“A ghost chase,” Midge corrected. “Oh, the house can wait. But it does
look interesting. After we get the discs, let’s find out if anyone lives
there.”
“Fair enough,” Brad agreed. “If we don’t start moving, we won’t even get
our discs for armor. It will be turning dark before long.”
Made aware that the sun fast was lowering, the Cubs walked briskly on to
the cleared area where four new houses had been built. All were boarded
up for their interiors had not been completed. None were occupied.
“Now you’re certain it’s all right to take the discs?” Mr. Hatfield asked
Brad doubtfully. “We don’t want to get into any trouble.”
“The contractor said I could have them all. I only took enough for my own
suit of armor.”
“In that case, go to it, boys,” Mr. Hatfield said. “While you’re
gathering discs, I’ll look at the houses.”
The discs were scattered over a large area, half buried in the moist
earth.
Brad helped Babe, who was less agile than his companions. With six boys
and a scarcity of metal discs it became a race to see who would get
enough for a suit of armor.
“If we come out short, maybe we can buy a few at a roofing supply place,”
Dan commented. “Here’s another!”
In reaching to pick it up from amid a pile of boards and broken brick, he
noticed that the cellar door of one of the houses stood slightly ajar.
“Say, fellows!” he exclaimed. “This house is unlocked!”
“Then we can go through it!” shouted Chips, hurrying over.
“Hold on!” Brad stopped him. “These houses are supposed to be locked. I
had permission to take discs—not to lead a mob through any of the
buildings.”
“Oh, it won’t hurt just to peek inside,” Chips protested.
Before Brad could stop him, the boy shoved open the door.
“Chips!” Brad shouted furiously.
But the boy needed no additional warning. Already he had been effectively
halted.
As the door swung outward, a figure loomed up before him.
Chips was so astonished at seeing anyone in the house, he could only
stare. The man was stoutish and wore soiled, wrinkled clothes. A stubble
of beard gave his face a shadowy appearance.
More than anything else, Chips was made aware of the dark eyes which
seemed to bore directly into him.
“I—I beg your pardon,” he mumbled, gathering his wits. “I—I didn’t know
anyone was in the house.”
“Who are you?” the man demanded harshly.
“A Cub Scout. We’re all Cubs.” Chips was grateful that the other boys
were behind him, gathering closer. “We’re here picking up roof discs.”
“Well, beat it!” the man said curtly. “You have no business on the
property. Get moving!”
Before Chips or the other Cubs could make any reply, he slammed the
basement door in their faces.