A CHALLENGE FROM PAT
“‘P. O.,’” Dan thoughtfully repeated the initials. “The only thing that
pops into my mind is Post Office.”
“That’s hardly what I meant,” Brad replied, smiling. “The letters were
freshly carved. I could tell from the color of the wood. Besides, there
were tiny splinters on the floor.”
Dan surged with excitement as he realized the importance of the Den
Chief’s discovery. Since the initials had been cut so recently, it must
mean that they had been carved by the person or persons who had wrecked
the church.
“I know of only one person with the initials ‘P. O.’,” Brad said
significantly. “Can’t you guess?”
“Not Pat Oswald?”
“Who else? Of course we have no proof.”
“Pat and his gang might have been here after the Cubs left last Saturday!
Say, that could have been what happened! They wrecked the place and we
get blamed.”
“That’s the way I figure it,” Brad nodded. “But as I said, we have no
proof.”
“Let’s tell the trustees.”
“That’s for Mr. Hatfield to decide, Dan. This accusation against the Cubs
is dead-serious business and we can’t make any false moves. If we’d
charge Pat with this, we might be called on to prove our claims. Could we
do that?”
“Not yet, I guess.”
“That’s why we must keep a tight lip and see what we can learn.”
Dan knew that Brad’s reasoning was sound. Though they suspected Pat and
the group of boys he ran with, they certainly could not prove it. Inquiry
in the neighborhood, however, might bring to light additional clues.
Mr. Hatfield, unaware of Brad’s discovery, was still talking to Old Terry
and the trustees. His efforts to convince them of the Cubs’ innocence was
unavailing. The only concession that the church officials made was to
agree that the Cubmaster might appear before the entire church board the
following Wednesday.
Breaking off the conversation, the trustees drove away.
Old Terry, left behind, began to assert his authority.
“Now you boys get off this property!” he directed. “Haven’t you caused
enough trouble?”
“It’s unfair to accuse us!” Chips said furiously. “We didn’t do the
damage, and you should know it! Cubs aren’t hoodlums.”
“You wanted that freezer, and you didn’t care how many windows you
smashed to get in!”
“That just isn’t so,” Dan declared. “We never did get the freezers. Like
enough they’re still in the basement. Have you looked?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why don’t you?” Chips demanded. “I guess that would prove—”
“It wouldn’t prove anything,” the caretaker retorted, locking the church
door. “Now begone, will you?”
“Come along, boys,” Mr. Hatfield said quietly. “No use arguing about this
affair. Everything will be taken up at the meeting Wednesday.”
Decidedly downcast, the Cubs followed their leader to the car. During the
ride into Webster City, they assured him repeatedly that they were
innocent of the charges against them.
“I believe you,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Don’t worry too much about it. I
think—I hope at any rate—that everything can be explained and adjusted.
Unfortunately, Elwin Maxwell is a very stubborn man.”
“He’s chairman of the board too, isn’t he?” Brad recalled.
“Yes, I gather he is the one who is pressing the suit.”
Even the thought of a twenty thousand dollar claim filed against the
Scout organization dismayed the Cubs. If such action were taken, there
would be unpleasant newspaper publicity and court sessions. The Cubs
would be given a black-eye in the community. Even if they later were
cleared, they might never completely live it down.
“How about the party for our folks Friday?” Dan presently asked. “Now
that we’re in this mess, shall we drop our plans?”
“Absolutely not, Dan.”
“So far we haven’t any ice cream freezers.”
“We’ll get them somewhere. If necessary, we’ll buy ice cream at the
drugstore. The party goes on exactly as planned.”
The Cubs brightened at this decision and began to discuss ways and means
of clearing themselves of the outrageous charge against them. Brad told
of the discovery he had made inside the church.
“Pat Oswald,” Mr. Hatfield mulled over the name. “I hadn’t thought of
him. Brad, you may have hit upon something!”
“Do you think it will clear the Cubs?”
“I’m afraid not, Brad. But at least it gives us a starting point for our
own investigation.” Mr. Hatfield stopped the car for a traffic light.
Shifting gears to go on, he added: “Now, we must say nothing about
finding the carved initials, boys. But see what information you can pick
up about Pat and his gang.”
“Pat is known as a troublemaker,” Chips declared.
“We’ll need facts, not hearsay,” Mr. Hatfield reminded the boys. “By the
way, when you fellows were out at the church Saturday, you didn’t notice
anyone loitering around?”
“Not actually,” Dan said. “Chub thought he saw a ghost though. We rather
made fun of him.”
“Maybe what he saw was someone hiding in the bushes,” Brad pointed out.
“That’s so,” Dan agreed. He hadn’t intended to mention his own
experience, but now decided to tell about seeing the shadowy figure
slithering toward the graveyard.
He related the incident hesitantly, half expecting the Cubs to tease him.
No one did.
“Obviously, you didn’t see a ghost,” Mr. Hatfield commented. “You
probably caught a glimpse of one of those hoodlums, Dan.”
“Funny thing though,” Dan replied meditatively. “The shadow I saw didn’t
look like a boy ghost. The figure was rather tall and thin. I had the
queerest feeling at the time, almost the same as I did today—”
“What do you mean, ‘as you did today?’” Brad alertly tripped him up.
The remark had slipped from Dan unintentionally. He certainly didn’t want
the Cubs to think that he was jittery. Or that he was imagining things.
He remained silent.
“Come on, give!” Brad commanded.
“It was nothing really.”
“You did see someone again today at the church?”
“No,” Dan answered. “It was just a feeling I had while we were in the
church. You’ll laugh I know, but I had the strangest feeling that we were
being watched.”
“Watched?” said Mr. Hatfield. “By whom?”
“I can’t explain it. As I said, it was just a feeling. I—I felt as if
everything we said and did inside that building was being noted.”
“That was imagination, I’m afraid,” Mr. Hatfield smiled. “I can
understand the feeling though. The church interior was quiet and filled
with strange echoes. Don’t give it too much thought Dan.”
Feeling slightly rebuked, Dan made no mention of the incident of the
tapping bell. Nor did Chips speak of it. Neither of them believed that
there were ghosts either at the old church or anywhere.
One by one the Club leader dropped the boys off at their separate homes.
He promised that the moment he had anything to report about the church
matter, he would call a special meeting.
Meanwhile, the Cubs continued to make plans for the Friday night ice
cream party. Search as they would, however, they could not locate even a
single ice cream freezer.
“No hope of getting those two in the church basement either,” Dan
gloomily remarked to Brad Tuesday night after school. The two boys stood
at a street corner, books under their arms. “For that matter, I wouldn’t
even ask Old Terry to borrow ’em now.”
“He’d just turn us down,” Brad agreed.
Unobserved by the two Cubs, Pat Oswald and a companion had come up behind
them. As Dan turned he saw the pair and knew they deliberately had been
listening.
“What’s that about Old Terry?” Pat asked.
“Nothing,” Dan replied shortly.
“Oh, I heard what you said. You want to borrow an old ice cream freezer
from him, and he won’t let you have it.”
“Anything wrong in wanting a freezer?” Brad asked pleasantly. “Maybe you
know where we can get one.”
“Maybe I do,” Pat grinned. “But I wouldn’t tell, not in a million years.
I’d hate to be a Cub!”
“You’d hate to be one?” Dan demanded. Pat’s manner irritated him. He
disliked the older boy’s smug smile and attitude of knowing-it-all.
“Why?”
“Cubs are babies—little baby bears!”
“You don’t know anything about the organization!”
“Don’t I? Well, let me tell you a thing or two, Mr. Danny Boy Carter,
everyone in Webster City has heard about the mess they’re in now!”
Dan and Brad were chagrined by this thrust. So the story had spread that
church authorities had threatened to sue!
“The Cubs are sunk!” Pat chortled. “By the time the court gets through,
there won’t be an organization left. It will serve you right, too, for
wrecking the old church.”
“We didn’t do it, and you know it,” Dan retorted. “Say, weren’t you and
your gang out that way last Saturday?”
“Who says so?” Pat returned, instantly on the defensive.
“You know plenty about what happened.”
“Only what I heard,” Pat replied. His bluster had faded away.
Dan was elated to note that his sharp question had worried the other. He
would have pursued the matter further, but Pat and his friend moved off.
“You scored that time, Dan,” Brad said when they were alone again. “All
the same, go easy in talking to him. If we’re to learn anything, we
mustn’t give away what we suspect.”
“I’ll be more careful,” Dan promised. “Did you notice how he acted when I
suggested that he’d been around the church Saturday?”
“I did, Dan. Tomorrow night I’m going out there again, and canvass the
neighborhood. It may be that we can dig up someone who saw the damage
being done. In that case, the Cubs could be cleared.”
“Pat and his gang were responsible, I’ll bet on that.”
“I think so myself,” Brad agreed. “But don’t forget, we must prove any
charges we make.”
Though the Webster City newspapers carried only brief stories on the
damage which had been done at the Christian Church, word of it spread
very rapidly.
No mention had been made of the Cub organization or the threatened law
suit in either the Webster City Herald or the Journal. Nevertheless,
rumors circulated that the boys of Den 2 were responsible for the damage.
The Cubs smarted under the humiliation.
“We’ll never live this down,” Midge said morosely the next afternoon as
the Cubs waited in their clubroom.
Mr. Hatfield had called a special meeting and the boys were expecting him
at any moment. He came in just then, so sober-faced that the Cubs
instantly knew bad news awaited them.
“I’ve just come from talking to the church trustees,” he reported after
hanging up his hat on the wall rack. “Our meeting was to have been later,
but our lawyer arranged an earlier conference.”
“Our lawyer?” Brad asked, startled. “Do we have one?”
“The Scout organization has obtained the services of a very able
attorney. We thought it best to employ counsel.”
“Then this accusation against us is really serious?” Brad questioned. The
other Cubs, deeply worried, had gathered about in a tight, tense little
group.
“Yes, it’s serious,” Mr. Hatfield admitted drawing a deep breath. “As I
started to tell you, our lawyer and some of the Scout officials talked to
the trustees.”
“Wouldn’t they listen to reason?” Red inquired.
“No. Several of the board members were inclined to accept our word that
the Cubs wouldn’t and couldn’t have destroyed church property. Maxwell
wouldn’t go along with the others. He’s determined to sue unless we pay
for the damage.”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Chips muttered. “Why, that old wreck of a
place isn’t worth half that amount!”
“I’m afraid it is, Chips. However, a damage claim of twenty thousand is
ridiculous. Mr. Maxwell himself recognizes that, for he has offered to
settle for ten thousand if the organization pays within ten days.”
“The old skinflint!” Red exclaimed.
“We’ve refused,” Mr. Hatfield went on. “The next move is up to the
trustees. All we can do is wait.”
Now that the Cub leader’s report had been made, the boys were in no mood
for a long meeting. Brad took up a few matters concerning the Friday
party, including the necessity for finding at least one ice cream
freezer.
“Tomorrow is our last chance,” he told the Cubs. “Everyone get busy. Ask
friends and neighbors and let’s see if we can’t find one.”
As Brad ended his little pep talk, the boys were startled to hear a loud
pounding on the closed clubroom door.
Chub and Dan both jumped up to see who had rapped.
Dan reached the door first. No one was there. He thought though, that he
heard a muffled snicker, and certainly he detected the sound of
retreating footsteps. As he listened a moment, he noticed a folded piece
of paper lying on the cement floor almost at his feet.
“What’s that?” Chub cried, seeing the paper at the same instant.
Dan picked it up. He unfolded the coarse, soiled sheet to discover a
pencil-scrawled message.
“THE CUBS ARE SISSIES,” it read. “WE CAN LICK YOU IN BASKETBALL ANY OLD
DAY. HOW ABOUT A GAME? THIS IS A CHALLENGE. LEAVE YOUR ANSWER IN A BOTTLE
IN HAGERMAN’S ALLEY.”
The note was signed “Pat Oswald and the Purple Five.”