HALLOWEEN PRANKS
Word spread around the gymnasium of Pat’s outrageous demand. Brad and Dan
brought Mr. Hatfield, fully expecting him to reject the request.
“Pat, you feel you should have half the money?” the Cub leader questioned
him.
“Sure.” The captain of the Purple Five eyed the group of Cubs defiantly.
However, his gaze wavered under the level scrutiny of Mr. Hatfield. “We
earned it, didn’t we? What’s more, we’d have won the game, if we hadn’t
been cheated.”
“Cubs do not cheat,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “When you know more about the
organization, you’ll understand that. We play according to the rules,
that’s all.”
“You make ’em to suit yourselves,” Pat growled.
“On the contrary, you’ll find them all printed in the official rule book
on basketball. It might be well for your team to study up a bit before
the next scheduled game.”
“We’ll study all right! Now, how about the dough? You’re holding out, I
take it?”
“If you feel you’re entitled to a share, you may have it,” Mr. Hatfield
said. He turned to Dan, saying: “Go bring Mr. Holloway. He has all the
money we collected tonight.”
Dan’s jaw dropped, but he obeyed the order without question. What had
come over the Cub leader anyhow? Pat and the Bay Shore boys certainly
hadn’t done anything to earn any of the money! Why, the Cubs had sold
nearly all of the tickets. Besides, the organization would be expected to
pay the church a small fee for use of the gymnasium to cover lights and
heating. It was unfair!
Mr. Holloway came quickly, carrying a box in which were the receipts. He
reported to the Cub leader that the correct total was $30.80.
“Pat here demands half as his share,” Mr. Hatfield said. “I’ve told him
that he may have it. The Cubs make a point of being honest. We’d rather
lose the entire amount than to take one penny that doesn’t belong to us.”
Pat’s cheeks flamed, but he continued to grin in a silly, arrogant sort
of way.
Mr. Holloway counted out exactly $15.40 which he poured into the boy’s
hands. “Sure it’s enough?” he asked.
“We’ll make it do.”
As he pocketed the cash, Pat’s gaze again swept the group of Cubs. Though
no one spoke, their silence made him fully aware of their contempt. He
hesitated and for just an instant, Dan thought he intended to return the
money. Then, with a shrug, Pat was gone.
Once his footsteps had died away, the Cubs gave vent to their anger. Mr.
Hatfield allowed them to have their say without comment. He did not try
to explain his action in giving the money to Pat. His only remark was:
“I’m trying a little experiment, boys. Let’s wait and see.”
While the talk was at his height, Fred came rushing into the gymnasium.
“Hey, come quick!” he urged.
“What’s wrong?” Brad demanded. “Anyone hurt?”
“Come on and I’ll show you,” Fred answered, motioning for the boys to
follow him upstairs to the clubroom. “I’m so mad I could chew nails!”
The Cubs, followed by Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Holloway, hastened up the
stairway. Fred dramatically flung open the clubroom door.
“Just look!” he exclaimed. “This must have been done only a few minutes
ago.”
The cardboard fort which had been built with such painstaking care, lay
demolished on the floor.
“All my work—gone!” Fred said.
No one spoke for a moment. Everyone felt sick at heart. All the Cubs had
been proud of the fort and knew that Fred had spent hours of time
completing it.
“This was wrecked right after the game,” Fred said bitterly.
“How do you place the time?” Mr. Hatfield’s voice was quiet though
troubled.
“I dropped in here for a minute between halves of the game. The fort was
okay then. When I came upstairs just a bit ago, this was what I found!”
“Pat or some of his gang did it,” Chips announced with finality. “That’s
all the thanks we get for giving ’em half the money.”
“I didn’t think they’d do a trick like this,” Mr. Hatfield said. “I’d
hoped—well, I thought Pat had good stuff in him buried deep down in.
Seems I was mistaken.”
“We ought to report this to the police,” Red said indignantly. “Want me
to call ’em?”
“No, Red. This is hardly a case for the police.”
“How about those other two basketball games?” Midge asked. “Will we play
them?”
“That I think, is for the Cubs to decide. After what happened tonight,
I’m sure we’d be justified in cancelling.”
“Only trouble is that if we do, they’ll go around Webster City calling us
yellow,” Brad said. He began picking up the scattered sections of the
destroyed fort. “I say, let’s play the series, and lick ’em.”
The debate waxed warm for a few minutes. Finally, however, a majority of
the Cubs voted in favor of carrying on the series.
“Very well, if that’s the decision,” Mr. Hatfield said. “One thing,
though! The game must not be used as a means of venting spite on the Bay
Shore boys. If we play them, we must conduct ourselves as good sports.
Agreed?”
The next game had been scheduled for the following Friday. With Pat and
his players claiming half the receipts, the Cubs had far less enthusiasm
for selling tickets during the week. Nevertheless, news had traveled that
the game would be a good one. Accordingly, many persons stopped the Cubs
on the street to ask for the tickets.
The Cubs were not surprised to learn that Pat had told around that the
Purple Five had been cheated out of victory on a technicality.
“They’ll be laying for us next game,” Brad warned the boys of Den 2 one
night as they practiced at the church gymnasium. “If we want to win,
we’ve got to improve our teamwork.”
The Cubs had worked out several new plays which seemed to go fairly well.
Chub however, could not get the hang of them. The others noticed that his
mind never seemed entirely on the game. A ball would be tossed in his
direction, and he’d seem aware of it only after it had shot past him.
“Chub, you’ve got to wake up!” Brad scolded him.
“I—I’m sorry,” Chub apologized.
He’d try harder for awhile, and then his mind would wander again. The
Cubs felt sorry for him because obviously he meant well. Chub though, was
a total loss to the team, even as a substitute.
“Something’s bothering Chub,” Brad confided to Dan. “He’s worrying about
things, and he’ll never be any good until he gets it off his chest. Any
idea what’s wrong?”
“It may be because he hasn’t any father or mother,” Dan replied. “I’ve
tried to talk to him now and then, but he never opens up.”
The next few days were so delightful that the Cubs abandoned basketball
for hikes. They decorated their clubroom with cornshocks and pumpkins
obtained from a nearby farm.
Fred made cardboard witches for the walls, and in the work forgot his
disappointment over loss of the cardboard fort.
All the Cubs fashioned Halloween costumes and laid plans for another
party. They took care however, that Pat and his cronies should not learn
of the affair.
Regularly, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Purple Five practiced thirty
minutes in the church gymnasium. The Bay Shore area boys now were much
better behaved and quieter while in the building.
Nevertheless, the Cubs could not forget past actions. By agreement no
mention was made of the destroyed cardboard fort. The conviction remained
however, that Pat and his gang were responsible for it as well as the
damage to the old Christian Church. Nor had they forgotten the ice cream
freezer episode or Pat’s unfair demand for half of the game receipts.
The Bay Shore boys were treated politely, but none of the Cubs warmed to
them. Furthermore, while the Purple Five team was in the building, the
clubroom always was kept locked.
“You guys don’t trust us much, do you?” Pat demanded of Dan one afternoon
on the final practice session before the coming Friday game.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Dan avoided the issue.
“Then why do you lock the clubroom? So we can’t look in?”
“Our cardboard fort was wrecked, Pat. Fred had worked weeks on it. We
don’t want anything like that to happen again.”
Pat bristled, and color flamed into his cheeks. “You think we did it?”
“I didn’t say so, did I?”
“No, but you’re acting mighty suspicious. I’m tired of being treated as
if we have to be watched all the time. Believe me, if we wanted to do
mischief, we could tear this place apart! But we got other plans for
Halloween. Not a silly party either.”
Pat’s boastful manner instantly convinced Dan that the Purple Five team
was planning mischief, come October 31. He asked a few casual questions,
hoping to draw the other boys out.
“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Pat teased. He looped a ball through
the basket, and called to his teammates. “Come on, guys! Let’s move out
of here! We got some important business to talk over.”
Dan was disturbed by the hints the other had dropped. Undoubtedly, the
Bay Shore boys intended to commit Halloween pranks. He only hoped the
Cubs would not be blamed.
He heard no more of the matter and had nearly forgotten about it when
Halloween finally came. The Den 2 boys had arranged a party at the
Holloway home.
Everyone dressed in costume and the affair was a great success. Fred, as
usual, won first prize, fixing himself up as an armored knight.
Dan wore an ordinary clown suit. The other Cubs came as ghosts or in
over-sized clothes borrowed from their parents.
The party broke up at an early hour.
“No mischief tonight, boys,” Mr. Hatfield warned as he dismissed the
group. “But then, I know I can trust Cubs to behave themselves always.”
Several of the Den 2 members were riding home with their parents. Dan and
Brad had come alone. Mr. Hatfield offered to drive them home.
“No need to,” Brad turned down the offer. “It’s only a step. We don’t
mind walking.”
“How about you, Chub?” the Cub leader inquired.
“We’ll see him home,” Dan volunteered. “It’s not much out of our way.”
Still wearing their costumes, the boys started away from the Holloway
home. In this neighborhood, the streets were quiet. Some distance away,
they could hear the dinging of a cowbell.
“Nice night for the witches to howl!” Dan said jokingly.
“No pranks for us,” Brad replied. “We’re going home and to bed.”
Enroute to Chub’s home, the boys met two groups of masked children
returning from parties. Lights blazed on residential porches, and a few
small children were ringing doorbells, demanding: “Trick or Treat?”
“Kid stuff,” Dan remarked. “I’m glad we’re too old for that silliness.”
Chub was left safely at his doorstep. Brad and Dan then turned off toward
their own neighborhood. As they approached the old Christian Church,
unconsciously they began to walk faster.
Suddenly, they were startled to hear a rush of footsteps in the direction
of the old deserted building.
“What’s that?” Brad demanded, halting to listen.
“Sounds like a gang of kids, running,” Dan instantly decided. “Toward the
church too! Golly, I hope—”
“The Cubs would be sunk if any more damage is done there,” Brad finished
for him.
“Let’s find out what’s happening.”
“Okay, Dan. We’ll have to move fast though.”
Breaking into a run, the two headed directly for the church. As they
approached from the front they could see no one on the grounds. A nearly
full moon, rising through the bare branches of a scraggly tree, cast a
soft, weird glow over the earth.
“I can’t see anyone—” Brad began, only to break off.
The two listeners had heard a door slam. They were certain the sound had
come from the rear of the old building.
Noiselessly, Brad and Dan moved around the hedge to approach the church
from the river side.
“Look!” Dan directed the other’s attention.
A group of five or six boys clustered at the rear of the building, near
an open coal chute. The sound which the Cubs had taken for the slamming
of a door, had, in reality been the banging of the chute cover.
“It’s Pat and his bunch!” Dan recognized them.
“Bent on trouble too! They’re going into that building, and we’ll get the
blame.”
As the pair crept cautiously nearer, they could hear Pat giving orders to
his followers.
“I’ll go first,” he told them. “Then the rest of you follow. All but
Pete, who’s to stay here and keep watch. We’ll get that bell from the
belfry and dump it on main street!”
He disappeared feet first down the chute.
“The belfry bell!” Dan whispered in alarm. “This is the worst yet! If Pat
gets by with it, the Cubs are almost sure to be blamed. What are we going
to do, Brad? How can we stop ’em?”