Inside the Log
Jack Phillip’s hint that he was in possession of vital information
relative to the missing money box amazed the Cubs.
Even Mr. Hatfield was so taken by surprise that for the moment he made no
attempt to detain the boy.
“Say, are we going to let him get away again?” Brad demanded. “He knows
what became of that money box!”
“He took it himself, that’s why!” muttered Chips. “Who does he think he
is, anyhow? Someone that doesn’t have to obey the law?”
“Jack does have a few things to explain,” Mr. Hatfield said quietly.
“Now, take it easy, boys. He’ll not elude us.”
“He’s heading for the road now!” Red said excitedly. “If we don’t stop
him quick, he’ll slip away and we may never see him again!”
“We’ll head him off,” the Cub leader replied, undisturbed. “Brad, you and
Dan and Midge start through the hollow which is shorter than the path
he’s taken. The rest of us will come up from the rear.”
“Sure!” Brad said eagerly. “We’ll get him!”
“Just circle in and don’t use any force. In fact, don’t try to hold him
until I get there. He has a rifle, you know. It may or may not be loaded,
but we’re taking no chances.”
“We’ll be careful,” Brad promised, already starting off with Midge and
Dan.
At a fast lope, the three boys followed the low ground. For a
considerable distance they were unable to see the boy they pursued.
However, as they came presently to a rise of ground, they glimpsed him
off to the right not far from the main road.
“He’s taking it easy,” Brad said in relief. “I guess he doesn’t suspect
we’re following him.”
“Shall we show ourselves?” Dan demanded.
“No need to yet, Dan. The minute we do, he’ll either defy us or start to
run. We’ll just keep him in sight until Mr. Hatfield catches up.”
“Sure, that’s what he told us to do,” Midge said nervously. “No telling
how the kid may react.”
Without glancing around, Jack made his way directly to the road. Once he
paused to stare at the crotch of a tree which had been split by
lightning.
Another time, hearing the crackle of a stick, he looked quickly over his
shoulder. Brad, Dan and Midge froze in their positions and the boy did
not see them.
“He’s heading for the road all right,” Brad observed. “We’ve got to beat
him to it.”
Dropping back into the hollow, the three Cubs hastened on. Presently,
they emerged at a point where they had calculated Jack would come out of
the woods.
Nor were they mistaken. In a moment, before they fully had caught their
breath, they saw him coming.
Jack was whistling a slightly off-key tune. Seeing the three boys in
front of him, he broke off and stopped dead in his tracks.
The moment was a tense one for the three Cubs. They were relieved though
that Jack made no attempt to draw his rifle.
“What’s the idea?” he demanded, trying to shove past them.
The Cubs stood their ground.
“Mr. Hatfield wants to talk to you,” Brad said pleasantly. “You raised a
few points.”
“You’ll learn nothing more from me!” Jack retorted. “I told you that! Let
me past!”
Brad, Dan and Midge refused to move. Jack glared at them, and then
whirled, evidently intending to run.
However, he found retreat also blocked.
During the brief conversation, Mr. Hatfield, his son, Fred, Chips, Red
and Babe quietly had come up from the rear.
“What’s the big idea?” Jack repeated furiously. “You got nothing on me!”
At a signal from Mr. Hatfield, the Cubs closed about the boy in a tight
circle.
“Hand over the rifle, Jack,” the Cub leader ordered. “You handle it very
well for a boy of your age, but you shouldn’t have taken it from Mrs.
Jones without her permission.”
“Aw, she never used it.”
“Nevertheless, it was her property. The rifle, Jack.”
The boy seemed on the verge of defying the Cub leader. Then, he thought
through the matter, and with a gesture of contempt, extended the weapon.
“It ain’t loaded,” the boy muttered. “You got nothing to worry about.”
Mr. Hatfield checked the rifle for himself, finding that Jack had spoken
the truth. Evidently he had used his last shot on the rabbit.
“What d’you aim to do? Turn me over to the cops again?”
“That depends on what you tell us, Jack. From the start, we’ve tried to
give you the benefit of every doubt. Your remarks about the tin box,
however, were disturbing.”
“I didn’t take the money!”
“No one has accused you, Jack. It’s clear though, that you know plenty
about the matter.”
“I read about it in the paper.”
“I think you know more than the facts you have read, Jack. Why don’t you
come clean?”
“You turned me in!”
“We’re law abiding citizens, Jack,” Mr. Hatfield argued. “What else could
we do?”
“I help only my friends.”
“We are your friends,” the Cub leader insisted. “At least we want to be.
Sit down, Jack, and let’s talk this over.”
Mr. Hatfield brushed off a hollow log which had fallen near the fence,
and made room for Jack. The other boys gathered around close enough so
the Institute lad could not hope to make a break for freedom.
“Jack, can’t you realize that we’re trying to help, not make things hard
for you,” Mr. Hatfield attempted to reason with him. “You must return to
Mrs. Jones’ home.”
“I was going there anyhow,” the boy muttered, his gaze on the ground.
“You weren’t running away again?”
“'Course not,” Jack said irritably. “I wouldn’t go away and take her
rifle. I’m not a thief. She’s been good to me in her way—better than
anyone else.”
“I’m glad to hear that!” Mr. Hatfield exclaimed. “I knew you had good
stuff if you’d just give it a chance to come out. Now about the money
box—”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“But you hinted—”
“I was just blowing,” Jack said, avoiding Mr. Hatfield’s direct gaze.
“All I know is what I read in the newspaper.”
The Cubs were disgusted. But Jack, they knew, did not abide by their
standards of honor and fair play.
“Let me go now,” Jack muttered, getting up from the log. “You got no
right to keep me.”
“Do we have your word that you’ll return to Mrs. Jones’ house?” the Cub
leader asked.
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“I’ll accept your word, Jack. And here’s the rifle. When you return it to
Mrs. Jones, why not ask her if you may borrow it now and then? She’d
likely give her consent and you wouldn’t feel low and sneaking about it.
Furthermore, in season you probably could help out by bringing in game
for the table.”
“Maybe she would let me take it,” Jack said. “Sure, I’ll ask her next
time. I promise.”
Mr. Hatfield smiled and reached out to shake the boy’s hand.
“Good luck, Jack,” he said. “You’ll do all right. I’m confident of it.
I—”
An odd expression came over the Cub leader’s face. Without finishing what
he had started to say, he stooped down to examine one end of the hollow
log.
The Cubs then saw what had attracted their leader’s attention. A bit of
water-soaked cloth protruded from the end of the log.
“What’s this?” Mr. Hatfield murmured.
As the boys watched in amazement, he removed a wadded-up garment. The Cub
leader shook it out, revealing a woman’s black dress trimmed in
diamond-shaped jet buttons.
“Why, that must be the costume stolen from Mrs. Jones’ place!” exclaimed
Brad as Mr. Hatfield spread the garment over the log.
“Sure, the same one maybe that was worn by the thief who made off with
the money box!” added Dan, becoming highly excited.
Mr. Hatfield carefully examined the diamond-shaped buttons.
“Aren’t they the same as the one police found in your desk?” Dan
demanded.
“They certainly look the same,” the Cub leader admitted. “I wonder how
this dress came to be in the log?”
“Someone must have stuffed it in here just to be rid of it,” Brad
ventured.
His gaze fastened upon Jack Phillips. The boy leaned on his rifle,
staring at the dress with a fixed, almost frozen expression.
Observing the odd look of his eyes, the Cubs could not fail to wonder
what he knew of the matter.
“Jack,” said Mr. Hatfield, without mincing words, “have you ever seen
this dress before?”
“Have I seen it?” the boy echoed indignantly.
“That’s what I asked, Jack.”
“No, I never saw the dress before!” the boy answered sullenly. “What’s
more I didn’t put it in this old log! I had nothing to do with stealing
your money box!”
“Finding this dress here gave me a bad moment,” Mr. Hatfield said.
“Frankly, it’s something of a shock.”
“Well, blame me! I always get accused of everything whether I did it or
not!”
“No one has accused you of anything, Jack. We only want to get at the
truth of the matter. I have a deep-seated feeling that you might help us,
if only you would.”
Jack remained silent.
Mr. Hatfield examined the dress and then wrapped it into a tight roll.
“Jack, we’ll walk along with you to Mrs. Jones’ place,” he said. “I think
this is the dress that disappeared from her shed. I want to find out for
certain.”
“I didn’t take it,” Jack denied. “What would I want with a woman’s dress?
If you go back and tell the widow, she’ll think I stole it! She’ll send
me back to the Institute!”
“Not if you tell a straight story, Jack,” Mr. Hatfield reassured him.
“Come along, boys. We’re wasting valuable time.”
Jack did not openly defy Mr. Hatfield or the Cubs, but he made it evident
by glances he directed at them that he resented their interference.
As the group approached the old farmhouse, Mrs. Jones saw the boys from
afar. She was waiting at the door when they came up.
“Well, I see you caught the rascal!” she commented grimly.
“We found him,” Mr. Hatfield corrected. “Jack wasn’t running away though.
He said he intended to come back.”
“Jack, why do you do it?” the widow asked, taking the rifle from him.
“Haven’t I been good to you?”
“Yes’m,” the boy responded, his eyes on the ground.
“I’ll fix you some victuals. You must be hungry.”
“I’ve had enough to eat. I’m sorry about taking so much from the
refrigerator.”
The tight lines around Mrs. Jones’ mouth relaxed. “There! I reckon boys
are all alike,” she remarked. “I had three of my own once. I never could
break ’em of taking cookies from the jar.”
The widow cordially invited the Cubs into the kitchen. Mr. Hatfield
declined the invitation for them.
“Mrs. Jones, here is something we wish to show you,” he said, exposing
the rolled-up black gown to her gaze. “Did you ever see this dress
before?”
“Land sakes! It’s the dress that disappeared from the shed!”
“You’re certain it’s the same one?”
“Of course I’m certain. Didn’t I wear that dress for six years? Where did
you find it?”
“In a hollow log not far from here.”
“Well, of all places! How did it get there?”
“That’s what I’d like to know myself. Dan tells me that someone in a
black dress was seen leaving my place on the day the money box
disappeared.”
“A jet button exactly like those on the dress was found by police in Mr.
Hatfield’s study,” Brad contributed.
“My stars! Then you think the money was taken by someone who wore my
dress?”
“Naturally, one wonders,” Mr. Hatfield replied.
Mrs. Jones gazed searchingly at Jack.
“I didn’t do it!” he said, almost fiercely. “Quit lookin’ at me like
that! I always get the blame for everything.”
“I’m sure Jack didn’t take the dress,” Mr. Hatfield declared. “As I
recall, Mrs. Jones, I believe you said it disappeared some time ago.”
“That’s so! Before Jack came here! Land sakes, I guess we get so in the
habit of blaming a boy, that we don’t give him the benefit of any doubt.”
In a gesture of kindness, she reached out and drew the boy to her. He
resisted, but as her arm remained firm, finally allowed it to remain
thrown around his shoulders.
“I’m fairly convinced Jack didn’t take the dress,” Mr. Hatfield resumed.
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t say I think he isn’t hiding vital
information. I believe Jack knows more about the affair than he is
willing to tell.”
Mrs. Jones’ arm fell from the boy’s shoulder. Sternly, she regarded him.
“Jack, is that the truth?”
“Maybe!” The boy regarded her defiantly.
“Then you just tell Mr. Hatfield everything you know!”
“Wild horses can’t drag it from me! I’m no snitcher. I don’t help anyone
who made it hard for me!”
“You little ninny!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed, losing patience. “I declare, I
wonder if you have an ounce of sense. Now march into the house.”
“Yes’m,” Jack muttered.
“Everyone come in,” Mrs. Jones invited. “We’ll thrash this out right here
and now. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s nonsense!”
The Cubs trooped into the warm kitchen, fairly overflowing the tiny room.
Mr. Hatfield, Babe, Chips and Fred found chairs. Dan perched himself on
the corner of the wood box by the stove. The others stood.
“Jack, I’d try to switch a little sense into you, but I know now it
doesn’t do a mite of good,” Mrs. Jones sighed. “Now what’s wrong with you
anyhow?”
“Nothin’.”
“Then why don’t you speak up and tell Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs what they
want to know?”
“They turned me in!”
“I reckon it was mighty inconsiderate of ’em to give you another chance,”
the widow said, her brittle voice edged with sarcasm. “You’ve had a hard
lot here. I’ve kept you chopping wood every day and helping with the
housework. At night you’ve had to do your lessons.”
“The work wasn’t so hard,” Jack muttered.
“You’ve been chained to the house—never could go away—”
“Aw, quit rubbin’ it in,” Jack pleaded. “I’ve liked it here. I’m willing
to stay.”
The widow regarded him steadily.
“You may be willing,” she said, “but I don’t want you any more.”
Jack drew in his breath and for a moment could not reply.
“You—you’re sending me back?” he finally stammered.
“Just as fast as I can send for Mr. Wentworth. I did the best I could for
you, Jack. I needed a boy I could depend on that would help me with the
work, and act like my own son. Well, you let me down. So I’ll go on
living here alone.”
The words cut deep into Jack. “I’ll do better,” he promised. “Please
don’t send me back to the Institute. I’ll cut all the wood you want me
to—honest I will. I won’t take things out of the ice box again or run off
so often. Only just once in a long while, when I get to feeling tight and
mean inside. And I’ll tell you ahead that I’m going—I promise!”
“You’re promising a heap, Jack,” the widow returned dryly. “Only trouble
is, you’ve made a lot of ’em before you never kept.”
“I never made any to you.”
“Well, that’s a fact. You have kept your word such as you’ve given.”
“Then let me have another chance. Just one more!”
“Not unless you tell the truth about that black dress of mine.”
“I never took it!” Jack said desperately. “Believe me, I never did!”
“But you know how it came to be in the hollow log?”
“Not for sure,” Jack hedged.
“You could make a pretty shrewd guess.”
“Maybe.”
“Then suppose you come clean and tell the Cubs everything you know.”
“Help ’em after they turned me in?”
“Did they really do you such a bad turn seeing to it that you were sent
out here to my place?”
“No’m,” Jack murmured. “I’m all mixed up. I don’t know what to do—”
“I want you to stay with me always, Jack. You’re a fine boy.”
“You mean that? You ain’t just handing me a line so’s I’ll do what you
want?”
“I really mean it, Jack. You should know by this time that when I give my
word I keep it.”
Jack debated with himself only a moment longer. Then he arrived at his
decision.
“I want to stay here,” he said earnestly. “I’ll do whatever you tell me
to—and I ain’t crossin’ my fingers when I say it, either! You can switch
me whenever you want to and I won’t try to take the switch away from
you.”
“Now that’s right considerate of you, Jack,” Mrs. Jones smiled. “We’ll
get along fine from now on. And we won’t need that switch again.”
“I’ll fill the woodbox,” Jack offered eagerly. “You’re most out of
kindling.”
Mrs. Jones hauled him up short. “That job can wait, Jack. You got
something else more important to do.”
“Tell us everything you know about the tin box,” Mr. Hatfield urged.
“You’ll be doing the Cubs a real service, Jack. You see, not only myself
but the entire organization has been under a cloud since the money
disappeared.”
“I ain’t sure what became of it, but I may know,” Jack admitted.
“Then suppose you tell us,” the Cub leader urged.
“I’ll show you instead,” Jack offered. “Follow me to the woods, and you
may see something kinda interesting!”