DETECTIVES
Whilst Bill and Jack had been getting actively to work in search of
Danny, David and Hugh had been making plans. Retiring to a particular
and secret den of their own, in a pile of logs, they faced the problem
in a really logical way. With pencil and notebook, and the quiet
determination of true detectives, they reviewed the situation.
“First,” said David, “what do we know?... Danny was last seen going to
the circus. Then gipsies are people who are often thieves or something.
Danny is a detective. If there was anything fishy about those gipsies
he would be sure to get on the scent. If Black Bill caught him at it he
would be sure to keep him prisoner, so we had better take it that he
has been kidnapped by Black Bill. What do we do?”
“Try not to let Black Bill out of our sight,” said Hugh. “Follow him
everywhere he goes. Try and get as near to him as possible, in case we
can overhear him talking about Danny; and keep our eyes open for any
clue there might be.”
“Yes,” said David thoughtfully, “that’s just what we must do. But the
circus is moving on this afternoon. It’s going to Bradmead--that’s
five miles away.”
“Then we must go, too,” said Hugh. “We may have to stay away some time,
so we must take all we might want with us. And we must be prepared for
anything that might happen.”
“Yes,” agreed David, “let’s make a list.” He sharpened his pencil and
flattened out his notebook.
“Money,” said Hugh. “If you haven’t got enough money to buy anything
you may want, or to pay for railway journeys, or to bribe people with,
you’re done. I’ve got £1 5s. saved up in my money-box. I’ll take that.”
“I’ve got a sovereign my godfather sent me last week--a late birthday
present, because he was at the front when my birthday was on.”
“Good,” said Hugh. “Then, food. You must have food with you, because
you can’t be sure of being able to buy it, and you can’t carry on if
you’re starving.”
“Cook,” said David, “has been crying ever since she found Danny was
lost. If she hears we are going to seek for him she’ll give us any
amount of grub.”
“Rope,” said Hugh. “We might have to let ourselves down into a pit, or
out of a window.”
“Yes,” said David, writing in his book, “and the pit might be dark, so
we might need two electric lights, and some candles and matches.”
“We might have to file some bars,” said Hugh. “Put down a file.”
“We might have to have a fight,” said David, “so I think we’ll take
two of the old daggers out of grandfather’s armoury. We shall have to
sharpen them, ’cos they’re awfully blunt.”
His eyes gleamed fiercely.
Hugh nodded. “But after the fight we might want to do first aid, so I
think we must have bandages and lint and things.”
David wrote in his book.
“And we might be in an awful hurry,” continued Hugh. “What about taking
Danny’s bike? I can ride it if the saddle is put right down, and you
can go on the step. We could hide it somewhere near the gipsy camp, in
case of need.”
“That’s a good idea,” said David. “And we might want to disguise
ourselves. What about you borrowing a set of your sister’s clothes?
I’ll get the false nose we have for acting, and a pair of specs, and
grandfather’s Inverness cape. No one would recognize us, then.”
“You’re right,” said Hugh. “And I think we’d better have a map--there’s
that one Danny was teaching us map reading with.”
“Yes, yes,” said David, “and a compass, in case we get lost in the
dark.”
Before long they had collected all the things down on their list, and
packed them in an old sack and a carpet bag. Concealing them in their
den, under the logs, they set out to go down to the camp, and begin
their watch on Black Bill, meaning to come back for the things as soon
as they saw signs of the circus getting ready to move.
They had not gone far before they met Bill and Jack returning with
Danny’s hat, and the story of how Black Bill’s son had told the
bailiff an awful lie about Danny. This convinced David and Hugh more
than ever that Black Bill had kidnapped Danny, and they hurried on
towards the camp.
Black Bill did not move from the field all the morning; but the Cubs
managed to discover from a little gipsy girl that the camp was going to
start for Bradmead directly after dinner. Dinner was then nearly ready,
as you could tell from the lovely smell that came from the big black
pots on the fire.
“Look here,” said Hugh to David, “you stay here keeping your eye on
Black Bill, and I’ll go on to Bradmead on Danny’s bike, and take the
things and find a secret hiding-place for them. Then I’ll come back
towards the caravans, which will be on the move by then. If I can’t
spot you, I’ll make the peewit noise and you answer with the owl’s.”
So the two Cubs parted.
The long line of caravans set out, soon after Hugh had started. It
looked like a giant caterpillar of many colours crawling slowly down
the white, dusty road. Black Bill was on his big horse, as usual, and
it was all David could do to keep him in sight, as he rode backwards
and forwards along the line, for David was keeping himself very
carefully under cover.
It would never do for the gipsies to know that the Cubs were following
them up, for they must have realized that, however much they had
managed to hoodwink the bailiff, the police, and the Squire, the Cubs
still had very strong suspicions, and were hot on the trail.
The cavalcade had proceeded nearly three miles when David, crawling
along at the bottom of a deep ditch, under a hedge, heard the plaintive
cry of a peewit, on the field side of his ditch. He answered with the
cry of an owl on the wing. The peewit call sounded again three times
in quick succession--a recognized signal. Scrambling up the bank David
soon discovered his fellow-detective.
“Hullo,” whispered Hugh. “I’ve found their camping site, and a fine
hiding-place for us in an old disused water cistern a few fields away.
I’ve stowed everything there, and camouflaged the opening with some
dead branches and an old torn rick-cloth.”
“Good,” whispered David.
And so the two Cubs pressed on, keeping abreast of the circus, but
invisible to the gipsies.