The Man at the Spring
A commotion in the bushes informed Dan and Chips that the man who had
thrown the stone now was retreating.
“You see!” Chips cried excitedly, joining his friend at the pool’s edge.
“I told you the truth, didn’t I?”
“You sure did,” Dan muttered, scrambling to his feet. “If I hadn’t
ducked, that stone would have clipped me on the back of the head. Come
on, let’s nail him!”
Angry to think that the intruder had dared to risk injuring them by
deliberately hurling a stone, the Cubs started after him.
Already the man was far away, moving with cat-like tread through the
dense growth of vines and underbrush. Apparently familiar with the
terrain, he slipped between the trees like a shadow.
“No use trying to follow,” Dan decided after they had gone only a few
yards. “We’ve already missed our chance to see who he was.”
“And if we trail him a long distance from camp, he might try some of his
tricks,” Chips added in an undertone. “Dan, that man’s face scared me. He
looked downright ugly.”
“He did,” Dan agreed. “I only caught one glimpse of his face, but that
was enough.”
“Ever see him before?”
“N-o-o,” Dan replied slowly. “For just a minute I thought—”
The boy was on the verge of saying that the man had resembled “Frisk,”
the associate of Paper Bag Eddie. However, his identification had been
most uncertain.
“You thought what, Dan?”
“Oh, nothing. I didn’t really see the man’s face plainly. Wonder why he’d
try to harm us?”
“Let’s report to Mr. Hatfield.”
To this suggestion, Dan promptly agreed. Picking their way back to the
pool, the boys made short work of filling the water pail and gathering
clay.
Back in camp once more, they took Mr. Holloway and the Cub leader aside
to relate what had happened.
“The man actually hurled a stone?” Mr. Hatfield questioned, his face
sober.
“He certainly did,” Dan confirmed. “It missed my head by inches.”
Very much disturbed, Mr. Hatfield and Midge’s father warned the two boys
to make no mention of the incident to the other Cubs.
“I’ll take Mr. Suell and explore the island,” the Cub leader decided.
“Mr. Holloway will remain in camp with the boys. Without letting them
know that anything is amiss, keep them there.”
“It soon will be supper time,” Mr. Holloway agreed. “I’ll find enough
work to occupy their time.”
Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Suell set off at once to search for the stranger who
had accosted the boys at the spring.
Meanwhile, Chips and Dan helped with supper preparations, trying not to
reveal their inner excitement to the other Cubs. As time wore on and
neither the Cub leader nor Mr. Suell returned, it became increasingly
difficult to contain their secret.
The boys were nearly through supper when the two finally appeared in
camp. Slipping almost unnoticed into the group around the fire, they
dished up their own suppers.
“Learn anything?” Dan asked the Cub leader in a whisper.
“Tell you later.” Mr. Hatfield’s glance warned the boy to say no more at
the moment.
In silence, but with no show of uneasiness, the Cub leader ate his
supper. While the other boys were clearing away the dishes, he took Dan,
Brad and Chips aside to relate what he and Mr. Suell had noted in their
explorations.
“Did you find that fellow we saw by the spring?” Chips questioned before
Mr. Hatfield could speak.
“No, Chips. We tramped the island from one end to the other. Not a sign
of him.”
“No signs?” Dan echoed.
“My statement wasn’t quite accurate,” Mr. Hatfield corrected. “We found
signs in the way of footprints, a well-beaten trail, and broken bushes.
But we failed to catch up with the man himself.”
“Where did the trail lead?” inquired Chips.
“We picked it up by the spring and followed it the entire length of the
island through the woodland and marsh. It emerged not far from the old
hotel.”
“Maybe the fellow hid in there,” Dan suggested.
“That’s what Mr. Suell thought. We looked the place over, but couldn’t
get in. All the doors were locked and the blinds drawn. If Mr. Jabowski
looks after the place for Mr. Manheim, he doesn’t hurt himself working at
the job.”
Having told the boys everything he and Mr. Suell had learned, the Cub
leader again warned them to say nothing of the affair to the other boys.
“Frankly, I can’t figure out why anyone would hurl a stone without
provocation,” he said. “I’m afraid someone may be annoyed because the
Cubs have camped here.”
“But we had a perfect right to do it,” Dan protested.
“Of course. Mr. Manheim granted permission. But things may be going on
here of which he has no knowledge.”
“For instance?” interposed Brad.
“I can’t say, because I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have. Mr. Suell
and I will take turns guarding the camp tonight.”
“Then you think the Cubs may be in danger here?” Brad asked, startled.
“No, Brad, if I thought so, we’d break camp and pull out tonight. We’ll
set up a watch as a precaution. First thing in the morning, I’ll go to
the mainland to have a talk with Mr. Manheim.”
After the camp work was out of the way, the Den Dads built a huge fire on
the beach. Mr. Suell then gave the boys a brief talk on Cubbing in other
countries of the world, telling them that the organization extended to 50
lands.
“And are the ideals and aims the same everywhere?” Brad questioned,
tossing another stick of wood into the flames.
“Practically so, Brad. In most countries, the Kipling Jungle stories have
been made the basis of Cubbing. Akela is the name of the Cub leader in
nearly all nations. The two-fingered sign of the Wolf is the Cub sign
around the world.”
Dan, who lounged on the sand beside Brad, had listened with keen
interest. But now his attention wandered.
Beyond the rim of flickering light, he thought he saw movement. Was that
shadowy form a trick of wind and tree boughs? Or might someone be spying
upon the camp?
“Wake up, Dan!” Brad nudged him hard in the ribs. “Mr. Hatfield just
asked you to lead in the singing of ‘Cheer, Cheer, the Den’s All Here.’
Are you asleep?”
Dan tore his eyes from the area of darkness. After all, he told himself,
he probably had fancied the shadow. Imagination played strange tricks
upon a fellow.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t hear. Guess I was half asleep.”
He launched into the song which was sung to the tune of “Hail, hail, the
gang’s all here.” The Cubs joined in, singing lustily.
At its conclusion, the boys all repeated the Law of the Pack, and the
council fire came to an end.
As the Den fathers were tramping out the last of the coals, Dan walked
over to the clump of bushes which had been directly in his line of
vision. He was relieved to find no one hiding there.
But on the ground beneath a blackberry bush was a sheet of paper torn
from a cheap writing tablet. Unable to read it in the darkness, Dan took
it to Mr. Hatfield.
The beam of his flashlight picked out the scrawled words: “GET OFF THIS
ISLAND. STAY AWAY!”
“A warning, eh?” Mr. Hatfield commented. “This little affair has gone
quite far enough!”
“Whoever left the note must have done it only a few minutes ago,” Dan
said. “I thought I saw someone in the bushes just as you asked me to lead
that song.”
“The coward!” Mr. Hatfield muttered, folding the warning and placing it
in his pocket. “Afraid to show his face. Instead he throws rocks and
sneaks up in the darkness.”
More annoyed than afraid, the Cub leader made a thorough inspection of
the bush where the unknown intruder had hidden only a few minutes before.
A few large footprints had been imbedded in the moist turf. But the one
who had left the note, had fled.
“No use trying to track him down in the dark,” Mr. Hatfield said in
disgust. “Tomorrow I’ll take this up with Mr. Manheim.”
With another reminder that no mention was to be made of the matter to the
other Cubs, the leader sent Dan off to bed.
However, the boy observed that neither Mr. Hatfield nor Mr. Suell turned
in. Instead, the two men posted themselves near the entrance to the
tents. Throughout the night, they kept a small fire burning.
Dan was awakened by the excited shouts of the other Cubs who were donning
trunks for a pre-breakfast swim.
At the beach he raced Brad to the raft where they rested for a moment.
“Anything happen last night?” Dan asked, eager for a report.
“Not that I heard of. Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Suell sat up until dawn. No
one came near the camp.”
“That’s good,” Dan said in relief. “If things start popping, our camping
trip will be called off. I like it here.”
“So do I, Dan. I hope the Scouts buy this site, because if they do, the
Cubs will get to come here often. But I know Mr. Hatfield is worried. The
way matters are going, he isn’t likely to recommend the place as a
permanent camp.”
“I’m thinking the same,” Dan agreed. “Oh, well, maybe Mr. Manheim will
take a hand in finding out who’s hiding on the island. After all, it’s
his property.”
A call to breakfast sent the two boys racing full-blast for shore. By the
time they had scrambled into their uniforms, an appetizing meal of orange
juice, bacon and eggs awaited them.
The Cubs ate their fill and then listened as Mr. Hatfield outlined plans
for the morning.
“I’ll take Dan, Brad and Chips with me to Webster City to pick up a few
supplies,” the Cub leader said. “Also to attend to an important errand.
Mr. Suell has planned a hike for those who remain behind.”
“I’d rather go to Webster City,” said Mack, who suspected that he was
being excluded from an important mission.
“Me too,” chimed in Midge. “Can’t we all go?”
“Not this time,” Mr. Hatfield turned them down. “We’ll make a full report
when we get back.”
At nine o’clock, the three Cubs and their leader were picked up by
launch, according to an arrangement made with a member of the yacht club.
Once on shore, they purchased a few small items. Thereafter, they
presented themselves at Mr. Manheim’s office and were elated to learn
that the island owner was in.
“He’ll see you at once,” a secretary told them. “First door to your
left.”
The room which Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs entered through a frosted door
was padded with rich, soft carpet.
A heavy-set man with steel-blue eyes sat in a swivel chair behind a desk
at the window. Recognizing the Cub leader, he smiled in welcome.
“Hello, Sam! What brings you here so bright and early? Another
proposition to buy that camp site on Skeleton Island?”
“Not exactly, Mr. Manheim. We’re not so sure it’s a safe place.”
“Skeleton Island not safe?” Mr. Manheim demanded. “What gave you that
idea? Sit down and tell me all about it.” He waved everyone into chairs.
Mr. Hatfield introduced the three Cubs and then went directly to the
point. He related how a stone had been tossed at Dan and showed Mr.
Manheim the warning note.
“Why, someone is playing a joke on you,” the island owner said after
reading the message. “Don’t tell me you take this seriously?”
“We did and do, Mr. Manheim.”
“I see nothing to cause alarm. Probably some boys from a rival troop are
having a little fun at your expense.”
“The stone was hurled by a man,” Dan interposed. “I saw his face quite
plainly.”
“It’s possible that tramps have taken up quarters in the underbrush,” Mr.
Manheim said reluctantly. “Jabowski’s orders are to keep hoodlums away
from the island. I’ll jack him up a bit if he’s been remiss in his duty.”
“Jabowski is your caretaker at Skeleton Island?” Mr. Hatfield inquired.
“Yes, he lives there with his nephew.”
“We saw neither of them. In fact, the old hotel building seemed to be
locked up.”
“Jabowski has orders not to leave the island without notifying me,” Mr.
Manheim said, frowning. “He must be there.”
To Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs it became obvious that the information they
had brought was displeasing to the island owner. Apparently to end the
interview, he arose and said:
“Now don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get in touch with Jabowski and have
him ascertain that the island is free of trespassers.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manheim. We wouldn’t have troubled you only—”
“No trouble at all,” Mr. Manheim interrupted the Cub leader. “I always
like to help out the Cubs or Scouts. Fact is, I’ve been thinking for
several weeks I’d like to give ’em a bang-up time—a regular jamboree.”
“Jamboree?” Mr. Hatfield repeated, rather mystified.
The island owner ignored the Cub leader, turning to Brad, Dan and Chips.
“How would you boys like a beach barbecue? A really big affair?”
“Swell!” Chips agreed.
“We’ll invite all the Cubs in Webster City. Make it a bang-up affair.
Tonight, shall we say?”
“You’re moving a bit fast for me,” said Mr. Hatfield. “How can you plan
such an affair on short notice?”
“Leave that to me,” said Mr. Manheim, pressing the desk buzzer. “We’ll
call in a caterer, a friend of mine who will take care of every detail.
Your job, Mr. Hatfield, will be to have the Cubs there on the island.”
“I don’t doubt the boys will jump at the chance for a barbecue even on
short notice,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “But what about transportation?”
“My motorboat will be available. And Jabowski can take the overflow on a
motor raft he has at the island.”
“Well—” Mr. Hatfield gazed dubiously at the Cubs. “I hardly know what to
say. It’s such short notice—”
“The trouble with you, Sam, is that you’re not in the habit of making
quick decisions,” the other said jovially. “You have your boys at the
dock at seven o’clock. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“All right,” Mr. Hatfield agreed. “I’ll get in touch with the Cub leader
of Den 1. I only hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew.”
“Never have yet,” the island owner said, escorting the party to the door.
“See you tonight. We’ll have a jamboree that will give those Cubs the
thrill of their young lives!”
“But what about that man we saw at the spring?” Dan half-protested. “If
he should be hanging around—”
“Leave that to Jabowski,” Mr. Manheim dismissed the subject. “Don’t give
the matter another thought.”
The island owner bowed the Cubs out. When the door had closed firmly
behind them, they eyed each other a trifle askance.
“Well, that was fast work if you ask me,” Brad said, sucking in his
breath. “Mr. Manheim takes care of everything!”
“In typical Manheim style,” added the Cub leader unhappily.
“Unfortunately, I’ve learned from past experience that his plans don’t
always pan out right.”
“Then you’re afraid the barbecue won’t come off tonight?” Chips asked as
the four started down the hallway.
“Oh, it will be held after a fashion,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “But Mr.
Manheim is apt to leave too many details unplanned. Another thing—”
“That man at the spring?” Dan supplied as the Cub leader hesitated.
“Yes, I’m not entirely satisfied that Jabowski will attend to him. For
that matter, where is Jabowski?”
“No one has seen him since we landed on the island,” Brad replied.
“It all adds up to an uncertain picture,” Mr. Hatfield said soberly.
“Everything may go well tonight. I hope so. But between you and me and
the gate-post, I’m wondering if Mr. Manheim’s barbecue may not be a
mistake!”