The Cubs spent every spare hour in the church gymnasium.
(_See Page 70_)
“Dan Carter and the Cub Honor”
DAN CARTER
_and the
CUB HONOR_
_by
Mildred A. Wirt_
_ILLUSTRATED_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_ _New York_
Copyright, 1952, by
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Dan Carter and the Cub Honor_
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
_Chapter_ _Page_
1. A New Cub 1
2. In Quest of a Freezer 15
3. A Tapping Bell 26
4. Payment Refused 35
5. A Threatening Suit 44
6. A Challenge from Pat 52
7. “Know Your Neighborhood” 65
8. A Wish Fulfilled 77
9. Strawberry Ice Cream 86
10. Old Terry’s Demand 102
11. The Locked Door 112
12. Rules of Basketball 121
13. Halloween Pranks 131
14. The Belfry Bell 143
15. Measles 149
16. The Stranger 160
17. A Witness 169
18. A Jolt for Pat 179
19. Cub Honor 189
20. Proof 205
CHAPTER 1
A NEW CUB
Skillfully, Dan Carter dribbled the basketball down the polished
gymnasium floor. With an easy toss of his right hand, he looped it neatly
through the basket.
“Nice going, Dan,” approved Brad Wilber, the Den Chief, who directed the
Cub Scout practice.
The five boys, all members of Den 2, were practicing in the basement of
First Methodist Church. Now after a brisk half-hour work-out, they were
ready to adjourn to the upstairs clubroom for their weekly business
session.
Dan tossed the ball to Midge Holloway, who passed it to Red Suell. The
latter shot a fast one to Chips Davis, who fumbled. He awkwardly
recovered the ball, but in attempting a basket, missed it by several
inches.
“Butter fingers; Butter fingers!” mocked a voice from the basement
window.
The Cubs had not realized that they were being watched. Turning quickly
toward the wall behind them, they saw several boyish and jeering faces
pressed against the rain-streaked panes.
“It’s Pat Oswald and his gang,” Brad instantly recognized them. “Don’t
pay any attention.”
Acting on the Den Chief’s suggestion, the Cubs tried to ignore the boys
at the window. But it was quite impossible.
Nervous because he knew he was being watched, Dan tried a long shot from
mid-floor, and missed the basket. Again Pat and his followers hooted.
“Look at ’im!” one of the tormentors yelled. “Why, even a girl could do
better than that!”
Dan could not endure the taunt. He walked over to the window.
“Oh, yeah?” he demanded. “I suppose you’re so good you never miss!”
“Dead-eye Pat, that’s me name!” the older boy boasted. “Come on, guys,
let’s show ’em!”
Boldly, he pushed open the window which swung on hinges. Before the Cubs
could stop him, Pat shoved his muscular torso through the opening, and
leaped down onto the gymnasium floor. Behind him, like so many spry
grasshoppers, came three of his cronies. The boys ranged in age from 7 to
11 years, but all were gangling and over-sized.
“Hey, you!” Red Suell cried furiously. “Get out of here! You got no
business coming in!”
“Yah, yah, yah!” mocked Pat. He gave Red a hard shove, deliberately
tearing the basketball from his grasp.
“Come on, fellows!” he urged his gang. “Let’s show these babies how to
play ball!”
He dribbled in beneath the basket. Without appearing to take aim, he
carelessly hooked the ball up toward the netting. Neatly, it swished
through.
Despite their annoyance, the Cubs were impressed. Pat was plently good!
No argument about that. His flashy skill so amazed them that they did not
try to recover the ball.
One of the invaders snatched and passed it back to Pat. From that moment,
it became a teasing, tormenting game of “keep it away from the Cubs.”
“You’ve no right to come in here and break up our practice.” Chips Davis
accused hotly. “Give me that ball!”
He rushed in to snatch it. Pat with jeering laughter, passed it on to
another boy in his group.
“Give us our ball!” Chips shouted again. “If you don’t hand it over—”
“Yah, yah, yah,” mocked Pat. “Here it is, baby!”
He heaved the ball with terrific force. It struck the surprised Chips in
the pit of his stomach, doubling him over.
At this moment, Sam Hatfield, the Cubmaster, appeared in the gymnasium
doorway. The athletic coach and leader in the citywide Pack had a knack
of getting on well with all types of boys. Now, as if he had noted
nothing amiss, he commented cheerfully:
“Well, well, I see we have some new recruits today.”
“Recruits, nothing!” snorted Midge Holloway. “These hoodlums are trying
to take over the gym—that’s what!”
“Aw, we were only having a little fun,” Pat growled. Already he was
edging toward the door. “Come on, fellows. Let’s scram!”
As quickly as they had come, the intruders were gone. Mr. Hatfield waited
until the door had slammed behind them, and then asked Brad about the
youngsters.
“That was Pat Oswald and his bunch from out Bay Shore Road way,” the Den
Chief replied. “They’re always making trouble.”
The Cubmaster offered no comment except to remind the Cubs that it was
time for the meeting to start.
“Where’s Fred?” Dan asked, noticing that Mr. Hatfield’s son was not with
him.
“He’s waiting upstairs in the meeting room,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “He’s
getting acquainted with our new Den member.”
“New member?” Dan asked quickly. The other Cubs, hearing the remark,
gathered about to ask questions. This was the first hint they’d had that
a new boy had joined the group.
“Come along and meet him,” Mr. Hatfield invited.
Chips, Red and Midge rushed on ahead up the stone stairway. Deliberately,
the Cub leader lingered behind to speak privately to Brad and Dan.
“As a special favor to me, I wish you fellows would look after Chub,” he
said quietly. “Teach him the ropes.”
“Chub?” Dan questioned. “The new Cub?”
“Yes, his name is Charles Weldon.” Mr. Hatfield hesitated slightly before
he spoke the boy’s surname. Then he went on “He’s a shy youngster, not
very sure of himself yet. Don’t tease him about his family background.
Don’t ask questions, and don’t let the others do it either.”
Brad and Dan were astonished by the request for usually Mr. Hatfield held
to the theory that every Cub should fend for himself. Who was Chub, they
wondered? Why had he never attended their school?
“Chub is new in Webster City,” Mr. Hatfield said, as if picking the
question from their minds. “Not much is known about his parents. He lives
with Mrs. Lornsdale at the west edge of town.”
“Is he an orphan?” Dan inquired.
“Something like that,” Mr. Hatfield purposely was vague as he locked the
basketball into an equipment case. “Now I’ve told you all anyone needs to
know about Chub. No more questions. Pass the word along that no one is to
tease him.”
“Sure,” Dan agreed. “Brad and I will look out for him.”
Their curiosity heightened by the information Mr. Hatfield had given
them, the two boys scarcely could wait to meet the new Cub.
Brad and Dan both were “veterans” of the organization and Mr. Hatfield
depended upon them a great deal. Brad was a serious, dark-haired
youngster of 13, and the only Boy Scout in the organization.
Even-tempered always, he had a quiet but efficient way of getting things
done.
Though younger, Dan likewise was efficient and highly reliable. A fine
athlete for his years, he also was quick in school and his original ideas
helped make the den a success. He had been chosen denner because of his
popularity.
Upstairs, the boys found Fred Hatfield waiting with Chub.
Pouring into the cheerful club room, the Cubs cast covert glances at the
new boy.
Chub was 10, short and stubby, with a crop of chocolate brown freckles. A
thatch of yellow, curly hair hung down almost to the bridge of his pug
nose. He did not have the blue Cub uniform, but wore a suit with sleeves
a trifle too short.
As Mr. Hatfield introduced the Cubs one by one, Chub smiled shyly and
stammered a few words. The leader then started the meeting off with roll
call and a peppy song to the tune of “America.”
“Cub friendships, pure and deep,
We promise we will keep
Our pledge to thee;
We will honor and obey Akela all the way
And on that twelfth birthday
Good Scouts we’ll be!”
For Chub’s benefit, Mr. Hatfield then explained that to qualify as a
Bobcat he must learn the Cub Promise and to repeat the Law of the Pack.
Other requirements were that he understand the meaning of WEBELOS, and
know how to give the Cub sign and handshake, the Cub motto and the
salute.
A Bobcat, the leader further explained, signified the first step in
Cubbing. Other progressive ranks were Wolf, Bear and Lion.
“A Cub always does his part,” he emphasized. “Above all, honor is his
most sacred possession.”
By this time Chub had begun to look worried. To relieve his mind, Mr.
Hatfield assured him that it would not take long to learn all the
essentials.
“The other Cubs will help you,” he promised.
“Sure we will,” said Dan, picking up his cue.
Mr. Hatfield went on to say that the theme of the Pack for that month
would be to “Know your Neighborhood.” Each den, he told the group, would
be given opportunity to visit interesting places in the community.
At this point the talk was interrupted by a slight scratching noise at
one of the windows. The Cubs, twisting in their chairs, again saw
grinning faces pressed against the glass panes.
“Pat and his gang!” Red Suell exploded. “Those pests have been
listening!”
“Let’s drive ’em away!” proposed Midge, jumping up from his chair.
“Why not invite them inside?” countered Mr. Hatfield. With a smile, he
started toward the window.
However, the Bay Shore boys, observing the Cubmaster’s approach, ducked
back out of sight. With a shrug, Mr. Hatfield resumed the meeting. He
told the Cubs more about the ‘Know Your Community’ visits which were
being planned, and asked for suggested trips.
“How about one to the fire station?” piped up Chips eagerly. “Maybe
they’d let us ride the engine on a trial run.”
“I’d like to visit a newspaper office.” This proposal came from Midge,
whose father, Burton Holloway, was an active Den Dad.
“The courthouse!” suggested Dan. “It would be interesting to watch a
trial.”
Other ideas came thick and fast. In fact, with the exception of Chub,
every boy immediately thought of at least one place suitable for a Den
visit.
“Chub doesn’t know Webster City well, because he hasn’t lived here long,”
Mr. Hatfield remarked. “He’ll think of a place before our next meeting.
His suggestion may be the best of all.”
“That’s right,” agreed Dan. “All the places we’ve hit on so far are the
obvious ones. Probably every Den in Webster City will come up with the
same ones. I wish we could think of an out-of-the-way place to visit.”
“Chub will ring the bell,” predicted Brad. “Are we to visit all the
places, Mr. Hatfield?”
“Only the most interesting. After all the suggestions are in, we’ll vote
on it. Now, one more matter. About that party we’re giving for the
parents a week from Friday night. Shall we serve real home-made ice
cream?”
“Swell,” approved Midge, smacking his lips. “Chocolate with nuts in it!”
“The mothers have promised to furnish the cake,” Mr. Hatfield resumed.
“Angel food, spice and chocolate. Making the ice cream will be our job.
Know where we can get a couple of old-fashioned ice cream freezers?”
“My grandmother had one, but I think she gave it away,” Dan said
doubtfully.
“Large freezers may not be easy to find. Well, see what you can do about
it, boys, and report back.”
The afternoon meeting broke up quickly for the hour was late. As the Cubs
poured out of the club-room, Dan brushed against Pat Oswald who had been
standing close to the wall.
“Listening again!” he said scornfully. “If you want to learn about Cub
Scouts, why don’t you come inside instead of sneaking around like a cat?”
“You’re calling me an alley cat?” Pat demanded. He doubled up his fists
and glared at Dan. “Say, I ought to knock the stuffins out of you!”
“Want to try?”
“Cut it,” Brad advised quietly. “We’re not getting into a fight here in
the churchyard. Or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Naw, the Cubs wouldn’t fight,” Pat jeered. “They’re yellow. Afraid of
their sissy shadows.”
“That’s not true!”
“Can’t even hang onto a basketball,” Pat went on with his tormenting.
“Sissies!”
“And look at that little panty-waist with curls!” shouted one of the boys
in Pat’s gang. He had singled Chub out for attention.
Walking over to the shy boy, he gave his corduroy suit jacket a hard
jerk. Chub cringed back into the doorway.
“Scared, ain’t you?”
“You leave Chub alone,” Dan said, stepping in front of the new Cub
member.
The other boy fell back a step, but not because of Dan’s command. In
truth, he had caught a glimpse of Mr. Hatfield coming down the corridor
to the church doorway.
“What goes on here?” the Cub leader demanded, and this time his voice was
stern.
With shouts of laughter, Pat and his followers ran off down the street,
rattling a string of tin cans.
“That Pat is a mean one,” Chips declared. “He’d have started trouble if
you hadn’t come along, Mr. Hatfield.”
“Possibly,” conceded the Cub leader. “Pat is inclined to be a bully, but
he’s mostly bluff, I think. My guess is that he and his pals really are
envious of the good times the Cubs have here.”
“Especially of our basketball practice,” added Brad.
Mr. Hatfield advised the Cubs not to take Pat’s teasing too seriously.
“Who knows?” he suggested as the group broke with Brad. During the brisk
walk, the younger boy had little to say. Finally, Brad commented upon his
unusual silence.
“Worrying about where we can get a couple of ice cream freezers, Dan?”
“Not exactly. I’ll admit I was thinking about the party though.”
“Something seems to be bothering you.”
“I was wondering about Pat. He and his gang were listening at the church
door when we made plans for the social a week from Friday.”
“Probably.”
“I’m sure of it,” Dan insisted soberly. “This is what worries me. I’m
afraid Pat and his bunch may show up at the party and really stir up a
mess.”
Brad glanced down at the younger boy, surprised by the intensity of his
remark.
“Sort of borrowing trouble, aren’t you, Dan?”
“I guess so,” Dan admitted with a rueful laugh. “But Pat’s a sly one. I
sure hope I’m wrong, but I’m terribly afraid he intends to try to break
up our Den.”
As the Cubs started home, Dan fell into step up. “If you work at the job,
the Bay Shore boys may be won over as friends. That would be much better
than having them as enemies.”
The Cubs were far from certain that they wanted the Bay Shore boys as
friends. However, they kept their thoughts to themselves.