As the canoe slipped in toward the beach, Chips and Midge came running down to help pull the craft up on shore.
“Gee, Mr. Hatfield,” Chips exclaimed in relief. “I’m sure glad you’re back!”
“Anything wrong, Chips?”
“Well, not exactly.” The boy lowered his voice. “But we’ve got visitors.”
“Nothing wrong with that is there?”
“Wait until you see ’em,” Chips muttered. “Our visitors are two Indians! Eagle Feather and White Nose. They’ve been giving the camp the once over and acting awfully queer about it. The Cubs want you to come quick, Mr. Hatfield!”
CHAPTER 11
FRIEND OR FOE?
“I’ll come right away,” Mr. Hatfield reassured Chips and Midge. “No reason to be alarmed though. Indians don’t carry tomahawks these days.”
“Maybe not,” Chips replied quickly, “but these boys both have knives!”
“They look fierce too,” added Midge, with a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Fred and Red are talking to ’em, trying to keep watch so they won’t take anything.”
“I’ll be very glad to meet the pair,” Mr. Hatfield said, starting up the path from the beach. “I’m sure though, that there’s no cause for uneasiness. They are probably only curious to learn what we’re doing here.”
“Curious isn’t a strong enough word,” Chips informed him. “They’ve snooped into everything—the hogan, the Wells Fargo station we’re building and they made a lot of remarks about the sand painting.”
“Complimentary ones, I hope,” grinned Dan.
“White Nose said something in his own Navajo language,” Midge informed him. “Then he spat on the ground.”
“Well, I like that!” Dan said indignantly. “I may not be an artist, but my picture isn’t that bad. I’m going to give that old Indian a chunk of my mind!”
“Let me handle this, boys,” Mr. Hatfield said.
He went ahead of the Cubs to the hogan where Fred, Mack and Red were talking to the two Indians. The pair did not appear unfriendly, but as Chips had said, their inspection of the camp had not been very polite.
“Good afternoon,” Mr. Hatfield introduced himself. He extended his hand, and gave his name. “I’m the Cub leader here. Anything we can do for you?”
Neither White Nose or Eagle Feather made reply. They looked Mr. Hatfield over and silently accepted his proffered hand.
“We’re a Cub Scout outfit,” Mr. Hatfield went on pleasantly enough. “Our camp may look rather odd to you, but we’re preparing for an Indian pow-wow. The boys chose the Navajo theme. Maybe you can help us with a few suggestions.”
“Cub Scouts!” Eagle Feather repeated. “A good organization.”
“The Navajos are starting their own dens now,” Mr. Hatfield went on, trying to act friendly. “In fact, our boys are gathering clothing to be sent out to New Mexico.”
“That is good,” Eagle Feather responded stiffly.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Mr. Hatfield next inquired.
“Nothing,” Eagle Feather shrugged.
“You are searching for someone perhaps?”
“For one of our brothers.”
“You’ll not find him here,” said Mr. Hatfield. “However, someone has been making himself at home in our camp during our absence. We’ve lost food, and a valuable Navajo blanket.”
This information obviously was of great interest to the two Indians. But their only show of it was a sparkle of the eyes.
“Dan, get the blanket that was picked up near the ravine,” Mr. Hatfield instructed.
Dan ran to fetch it. As he brought it back, Eagle Feather quickly took it from his hand. He and White Nose both examined the tattered blanket intently, talking earnestly in their own language.
“They recognize that blanket, all right,” Red whispered to Midge.
“Either it’s theirs, or it belongs to that ‘brother’ they claim to be looking for,” Midge added.
The two Indians did not explain the reason for their interest in the blanket. After their brief but thorough examination, they lost all interest in the item.
Mr. Hatfield was rather annoyed by the visitors’ attitude. He did not like the cool manner in which they had made themselves at home in the camp. Nevertheless, he hesitated to order them away, feeling that it would be much better to try to make friends.
“You’re Navajos, I believe,” he remarked.
“Yes,” agreed Eagle Feather, “we are of the People.”
“The Cubs would appreciate a little first hand information. How about giving us a talk on the customs and traditions of your people? For instance, you might tell us about the origin of the Fire Dance. We’re trying to work one up for presentation at our pow-wow Saturday.”
The Cubs, especially Dan and Brad, expected Eagle Feather to refuse. But, to their surprise, he appeared flattered by the request.
Mr. Hatfield motioned for the Cubs to gather about in a semi-circle. Eagle Feather squatted in the center and began to talk, speaking formally, but in perfect English.
He told the Cubs that the Navajos had 27 major chants which they used on ceremonial occasions or for the cure of the sick.
The Fire Dance, or Mountain Chant as it sometimes was called, was the most showy of all the Navajos’ ceremonies, he went on.
“The medicine man’s whistle marks the start of the dance,” Eagle Feather described it. “Twelve dancers with their bodies sprayed white, come in bearing cedar bark torches. As they dance about the log fire, they sing the Fire Dance song about a Sleepy Owl.
“The leader throws a bundle of burning bark to the East. Three other bundles are lighted and hurled to the West, North and South. This, my people believe, will drive away colds and bad luck.
“The dance ends with the lighting of torches and a wild race about the fire. The dancers move faster and faster, fanning their torches into a long flame. The ceremony lasts until daybreak.”
“We’ll offer a simplified version of the Fire Dance at our pow-wow,” Mr. Hatfield declared. “The Cubs are using flashlights instead of torches.”
“Tell us about other dances,” urged Dan.
Now that his tongue had been loosened, Eagle Feather was willing enough to talk. He described other versions of the fire Dance, the Feather Dance and one which he called the Plumed Arrow.
He then told the Cubs a few Navajo words. Medicine man, he said, was Hah-tahnc, and sand painting, ee-kah.
“Your ee-kah very bad,” Eagle-Feather added, a suggestion of a smile lighting his grim countenance.
“I know that,” Dan admitted with a laugh. “But then, it’s the first sand painting I ever attempted. The second, to be exact. Our first one was ruined—by the wind I guess.”
“Tell us some Indian stories,” urged Mack. “One about medicine men.”
The request brought a strange reaction from the two Indians. Immediately they seemed to become less friendly and more grim. Even the tone of Eagle Feather’s voice changed as he said:
“I will relate a tale of truth, one that concerns a medicine man of our own people.”
“A traitor and a thief,” muttered White Nose.
“This medicine man once was highly respected by his followers,” related Eagle Feather. “He was trusted by the people who placed in his hands many valuable tribal treasures.”
“Ancient turquoise rings found in the old cliff dwellings,” murmured White Nose. “Sky blue and hard as glass. Silver necklaces and discs.”
“The greatest treasure of all was the turquoise toad,” went on Eagle Feather, his voice as flinty as stone. “It was a handsomely carved piece, worth a large sum.”
“What became of the turquoise toad?” Mr. Hatfield inquired as Eagle Feather became silent.
“One day the medicine man vanished. With him went the turquoise treasure. But the vengeance of the tribe will follow him! He will never escape!”
A fierce expression came over Eagle Feather’s leathery face. As the Indian straightened up from a crouched position, Chips instinctively backed away. Thrown off balance, he collapsed against Mack.
A strained silence had fallen upon the Cubs.
Eagle Feather’s story had produced an unpleasant effect on everyone. Even Mr. Hatfield felt strangely uneasy in the presence of the two Indians. He tried to hide his own misgiving by saying pleasantly:
“Thanks for telling us so much about the Navajos. I’m sure it’s been very interesting. Goodbye.”
Eagle Feather’s thin lips loosened into a hard smile.
“We may return,” he said. “White Nose and I have a mission.”
The two Indians turned and with dignity moved off into the woods. Not even the rustle of a dry leaf or the crackle of a stick marked their leave-taking.
For a long while after the pair had gone, no one spoke. Finally Brad broke the painful silence.
“Friendly chaps, eh?”
“I’ll bet a Lincoln penny they took Professor Sarazen’s blanket!” Chips burst out. “Or at least they know who did!”
“Not so loud, Chips,” Mr. Hatfield warned. “They may be within hearing.”
“What did you think of that tale they told about the medicine man?” Dan asked Mr. Hatfield, keeping his voice low.
“It gave me an uncomfortable feeling. I don’t know what those two Indians are doing in Webster City, but I’m afraid they’re here for no good purpose.”
“Shouldn’t we report ’em to the police?” suggested Midge.
“So far they’ve done nothing that would warrant a complaint,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “All the same, I dislike the way they’re apparently watching our camp.”
“Do they think we’re hiding someone?” demanded Dan.
“They’re after that guy who does the carving at the ravine!” Brad exclaimed. “Y’know we ought to tip him off. White Nose and Eagle Feather could be very bad medicine, if one met ’em on a dark night.”
Mr. Hatfield spoke firmly.
“The Cubs,” he said, “will concern themselves with organization affairs. We’re not getting mixed in any tribal feuds. Get that straight!”
“Yes, sir,” replied the Cubs, speaking as one. And Red added: “I wouldn’t have anything to do with ’em, even if you’d give me a prize turquoise toad!”
“From now on,” said Mr. Hatfield, issuing a further order, “no one is to remain in camp alone. Mr. Holloway or I always will try to be here. But, if for any reason, we’re called to the house, two Cubs always must stay to look after our stuff.”
The Cubs accepted the order soberly. With more than their usual care, they began gathering up their belongings for the night. Though Mr. Hatfield hadn’t said so in plain words, they knew that he distrusted the two Indians and was afraid that they might cause real trouble.
CHAPTER 12
EXPLORING THE CAVE
The following day, Dan and Brad discussed the discovery of the underground stream and cave with both Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Holloway.
Acting on a theory that the swift river current must connect with Lake James at a slightly lower level, the two men went on a tour of inspection. They found the point upstream where the underground river flowed into the larger stream, but not where it later emptied into the lake.
Dan pleaded for a chance to explore the cave, pointing out that the lost paddles might be caught somewhere deep in the cavern.
“We need those paddles too,” he added persuasively.
“You wouldn’t be interested in exploring for its own sake?” the cubmaster joked.
“Sure,” Dan grinned. “It would be top adventure! Our secret is too good to keep from the other Cubs.”
Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Holloway were of the same opinion. So when the Cubs had their next gathering, they were told of the discovery.
Immediately there was a clamor to explore the cavern.
“Right now!” Midge insisted. “Lead us to it!”
The other Cubs echoed his demand. Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Holloway had, of course, anticipated the request and were prepared for it.
The night before they had discussed the matter and had decided to undertake the exploration. A long light rope had been obtained, as well as an ample supply of powerful flashlights and extra batteries.
“Okay,” Mr. Hatfield consented to the request. “We’ll explore the cave, if it can be done safely. Let’s go.”
“How about leaving someone to watch our camp,” Brad reminded the group. “It seems that something disappears every time we turn our backs.”
The Cubs stood watching Mr. Hatfield rather anxiously. No one wanted to be assigned to remain behind.
“Oh, except for a few tools, we have nothing here today of great value,” Mr. Hatfield said. “We’ll take a chance.”
The Cubs proceeded to the site of the cave, following Mr. Hatfield, Brad and Dan along the shore. Tangles of brush and willows frequently caused the group to detour away from the river. So when finally they located the mouth of the cavern again, it was much later than the Cub leader had expected.
“There’s no time to waste,” he told the Cubs. “We can’t afford to be caught here after dark. Now everyone must obey orders. I know you’re all eager to see the inside of the cave, but it may be unsafe. Therefore, I’ll go in ahead.”
“Not alone!” Brad protested quickly.
“Mr. Holloway will remain at the entranceway,” Mr. Hatfield resumed. “I’ll take two Cubs with me.”
“Me!” interposed Mack.
“No, let me go!” cried Chips.
“The stream is swift and it may be deep,” Mr. Hatfield went on, paying no attention to the demands. “We’ll have to inch our way very cautiously. Naturally, the only Cubs I can take must be good swimmers.”
“Brad and Dan,” Red said instantly. “They’re the best.”
Mr. Hatfield was well pleased that the Cubs themselves had elected the two boys, for he had considered them the most dependable. Dan in particular, swam like a fish, and could be depended upon if an aquatic emergency arose.
“Arm yourselves with long, stout sticks,” he instructed. “They’ll be useful in feeling our way. No telling either, what we may run into.”
The Cubs obtained the sticks from the beach, and they presented themselves again at the yawning mouth of the cavern.
A narrow stream of fast-moving water flowed silently into the dark tunnel of rock. Gazing into its mysterious depths, the other Cubs were not too reluctant to have Dan and Brad do the initial exploring.
Mr. Hatfield tied a long length of rope about his waist, and gave shorter ones to Brad and Dan, who were to follow him.
“No telling how far this cave goes,” he commented. “If our rope doesn’t hold out, we may have to come back and try it again some other day.”
The Cub leader gave careful instructions. Brad and Dan were to follow him into the cave. Two jerks of a rope in quick succession would signal the waiting Cubs that they were to pull in.
“We’ll not give the signal unless we’re in trouble,” Mr. Hatfield said.
Mr. Holloway manned the rope attached to the Cub leader’s waist. Chips and Midge grabbed Dan’s rope, while the other Cubs took the one Brad had tied about his middle.
“Be careful not to do any pulling unless you catch a signal or are sure we’re in trouble,” Mr. Hatfield admonished. “I’m not looking for any mishaps, but it’s always wise to be prepared.”
“Let’s go!” urged Brad, eager to be at the job.
A silence fell upon the group as the three stood for a moment gazing into the dark jaws of the cave. The shadow of a tree shrouded the entranceway, and the moving branches made an eerie pattern upon the limestone.
“All set?” Mr. Hatfield asked.
Brad and Dan nodded. Both suddenly seemed to have lost their voices.
“Walk carefully and watch your footing,” Mr. Hatfield instructed. “Don’t let your rope get tangled.”
He stepped from the ledge into the flowing stream. The water came well above his knees, and somewhat higher on Brad and Dan.
Finding the floor of the cavern smooth, the Cub leader moved along, slowly at first and then a little faster. Brad followed a few paces behind with Dan bringing up the rear.
Damp, dripping walls veered to a high rough roof only a few inches above their heads. Now and then Mr. Hatfield had to stoop to proceed. At one point he thought he could not go on. However, after he had squeezed through the “low bridge,” the passageway became higher.
Pausing to rest a moment, the three gazed back. The opening of the cave appeared as a circle of light.
“Everything’s okay!” Mr. Hatfield shouted to reassure Mr. Holloway and the Cubs who waited anxiously at the cave’s mouth. “We can’t see the end yet.”
His voice echoed weirdly in the cavernous depths.
Losing his balance, Dan grasped a jagged projection of rock for support. The walls at this point were slimy and covered with clusters of lichens. Farther on, the explorers passed an oozing icicle-like stalagmite which dangled from the roof.
“Need any ornaments for your Christmas tree?” Dan joked.
Brad’s line had become twisted. Without answering Dan, he halted to try to straighten it.
Unaware that the two boys had stopped, Mr. Hatfield moved on some distance ahead. Suddenly they heard him shout:
“I think we’re coming to the end of the tunnel! Or at least to a larger chamber. I’m out of the water.”
Brad hastily adjusted his rope and the two Cubs splashed on. Mr. Hatfield was waiting for them on a narrow ledge to the right of the stream.
Before the amazed eyes of the two boys spread a large chamber, nearly circular in shape. Occupying a large portion of the cathedral-like room was a round pool, which in earlier years obviously had been ground out of the rocks by whirling waters.
The underground river sought an exit at the extreme end of the chamber, beyond view of the Cubs.
A rocky ledge extended on three sides around the chamber. The shelf was barely two feet wide where Mr. Hatfield stood. Farther on, Dan and Brad could see that it widened to a sizeable floor.
“Be careful,” Mr. Hatfield warned as the Cubs came on. “There’s a sharp drop-off here at the entrance into the chamber. I couldn’t probe it with my stick. The pool must be over a man’s head.”
“Is this the end of it?” Brad asked, pausing.
“It’s as far as we’re going today. Maybe it’s as far as we’ll ever go. I’m satisfied now that the underground stream empties into James Lake. The tunnel through to the lake may be too small for exploration. I suspect it is, but at any rate, our curiosity is satisfied.”
“And we’ve found ourselves a cave!” Dan said. He caught himself talking in a half whisper. “Won’t the Cubs be jarred when we tell ’em about this!”
“We haven’t found our missing paddles though,” Brad remarked. “Wouldn’t you think they’d be floating around in this pool?”
“One would think so, unless they were sucked on down the tunnel to Lake James,” Mr. Hatfield remarked.
He trained his most powerful flashlight on the dark stream. No longer a whirlpool, only a slight circular motion could be observed.
Piles of sticks and debris drawn into the cave from the river, had accumulated against the rough chamber walls.
“Say, what’s that over on the ledge?” Brad demanded.
He focused his flashlight. The battery, however, had grown weak, and the light annoyingly blinked out.
Mr. Hatfield centered his ray upon the ledge. The Cubs then made out a pile of balsam boughs neatly piled against the wall.
“Balsam!” Dan exclaimed. “Freshly cut too!”
“Someone must have been using the boughs for a bed,” Brad reasoned. “Recently, too.”
“It does look as if this cave is being used,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Let’s look closer at that balsam pile. Be careful though. The ledge is slippery.”
Dan took a few steps only to halt.
“I’ve come to the end of my rope!” he announced. “And that’s no joke.”
“I can’t make the ledge either,” Brad reported. “The slack is practically all gone out of my rope. I’ll have to untie it.”
“No, don’t do that,” Mr. Hatfield ordered. “Just wait for me.”
While Dan and Brad remained on the narrow portion of the ledge, he circled around to the wider section.
Waiting rather nervously, the two boys found themselves shivering. A cold breath of air seemed to be circulating in the chamber. Their clothing was wet to above their knees, adding to their discomfort.
“Wish he’d hurry,” Dan muttered. “I’m getting anxious to get out into the sunshine again. This cave would give a fellow the creeps if he stayed here too long.”
Mr. Hatfield had bent down to examine the pile of balsam boughs.
“Someone’s been sleeping here all right,” he called to the Cubs. “And cooking in the place, too!”
“What have you found?” Brad demanded, for the Cub leader’s broad back blocked out the view.
“An old coffee can used for cooking a stew, or something of the sort. The rock is blackened from smoke. The coals are still faintly warm to the touch.”
“Gosh! Then our cave dweller has been here probably today!” Dan exclaimed, gazing quickly over his shoulder. “I wonder where he is now?”
Mr. Hatfield moved deeper into the chamber, away from the pile of balsam.
“Say, here’s something!” he cried. “I’ve found—”
But Dan and Brad did not learn what it was their leader had discovered in the darkness. In bending over he unintentionally had given the rope about his waist a quick jerk. At the mouth of the cave, the Cubs began to pull him in.
“Hey!” Mr. Hatfield exclaimed. “What’s coming off? I didn’t give the signal.”
Again the rope jerked. To avoid being pulled into the pool, Mr. Hatfield had to retreat backwards around the ledge.
“Those Cubs!” he exclaimed with an annoyed laugh. “They’re pulling me in! Either they’re worried because we’ve been gone so long, or something’s happened at the cave entrance!”
CHAPTER 13
MORE TROUBLE
As the Cubs at the cave entrance pulled steadily on the rope, Mr. Hatfield was forced to move briskly along to keep from being swept off his feet. He jerked on the rope several times as an indication that he was safe. The signal, however, seemed to be misunderstood. At any rate, the steady pull continued.
“Come on, Brad! Dan!” Mr. Hatfield exclaimed. “They’ll be dragging you in next.”
Already Dan had felt a tug on the rope about his waist. He and Brad followed the Cub leader across the rock shelf to the tunnel of shallow water.
“It’s probably getting late,” Mr. Hatfield said, splashing along. “Either that, or something has gone wrong at the mouth of the cavern.”
As the three proceeded toward the cave entrance, the pressure on their ropes suddenly relaxed. Evidently Mr. Holloway and the waiting Cubs now realized that there was no need to pull the three in. However, the trio continued toward the exit, knowing that it was too late to do any more exploring that night.
Coming within view of the cave mouth, they paused in astonishment. The gap between the rocks barely was discernible as a circle of light.
“Why, it’s nearly dark!” Dan exclaimed. “No wonder the Cubs decided to haul us in!”
“We were in that cave a lot longer than we realized,” Mr. Hatfield agreed.
Mr. Holloway and the Cubs greeted the three explorers eagerly as they emerged from the dark hole amid the rocks. Once on the beach it was much lighter, but the sun had set and long shadows had fallen across the river.
“We didn’t mean to pull you out of there,” Mr. Holloway apologized. “The truth is, we got worried. We’d had no signal, and it was getting late.”
“You did entirely right,” Mr. Hatfield assured him. “Time the Cubs are home. Everything all right here?”
“We had one scare. It didn’t amount to much. What did you learn in the cave?”
Mr. Hatfield described the explorations, declaring that he was almost certain the underground stream emptied into Lake James.
“Just before we were hauled in, you made a discovery,” Dan reminded him. “What did you see?”
“The object of our search.”
“Not the paddles?”
“One of them. The other may be there too. I was pulled in before I had a chance to find out. The paddle I saw was back against the wall of the cave, behind the pile of balsam.”
“How’d it get out of the pool?” Dan speculated. “Someone must have fished it out.”
“Oh, someone’s using the cave all right,” Mr. Hatfield responded. “A rugged individual accustomed to living out-of-doors.”
“Maybe that mysterious fellow who’s been doing the carving at the ravine!” Red exclaimed.
“Could be,” Mr. Hatfield agreed thoughtfully. “It’s just as well we didn’t find him at home. We’ll turn the job of eviction over to the park authorities.”
“You mean we’re not going to have a chance to explore the cave?” Chips demanded. “I say! Dan and Brad have all the fun.”
“There will be plenty of time to inspect the cave later on,” Mr. Hatfield reassured him. “But routing out whoever is hiding in there isn’t our job.”
“Mr. Hatfield’s right,” Mr. Holloway backed him up. “Anyone who would chose to live in a cave must be either a fugitive or slightly demented. The fellow may be armed.”
The Cubs were disappointed that they were not to be given a chance to explore the cave for awhile. But they realized their leaders had made a wise decision.
“You spoke about having a scare while we were in the cave,” Mr. Hatfield reminded the Den Dad. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing serious. As we waited, Mack thought he heard someone prowling about in the bushes above the cave entrance.”
“I did too,” Mack insisted.
“It took us awhile to scramble up there because the rocks are steep,” Mr. Holloway went on. “We didn’t find anyone. We had a feeling though, that we’d been watched.”
“You probably were right about it too,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “It’s almost certain someone is living in the cave.”
The air had grown chilly. Dan, Brad and Mr. Hatfield, whose clothing was soaked to above the knees, had begun to feel rather uncomfortable. Mr. Holloway proposed that they all hike back to camp as quickly as possible.
Brad and Dan, bringing up the rear of the procession, were more silent than the other Cubs as they scrambled over the rocks to the strip of beach.
Reflecting upon the many strange happenings of the past few days, they were convinced that Mr. Hatfield was right in assuming that the cave had an inhabitant.
It occurred to Dan that the man who had taken refuge there might indeed be the medicine man sought by White Nose and Eagle Feather.
“Do you suppose that bird, whoever he is, has Professor Sarazen’s blanket tucked away somewhere in the cave?” he mused aloud.
“I was asking myself the same thing,” replied Brad. “I sure hope we get another chance to explore before too long. We ought to get that blanket back before our Indian pow-wow.”
The camp near Mr. Holloway’s home was shrouded in evening shadow as the Cubs trudged in. Heavy clouds had overspread the sky, causing darkness to come on somewhat earlier than usual.
“I’m ashamed to have kept the Cubs so late,” Mr. Hatfield apologized. “I hope your parents won’t be sore, fellows.”
“I’ll take everyone to town in my car,” Mr. Holloway offered. “Special delivery service tonight.”
The Cubs quickly went about the camp, gathering up the few belongings they had left behind. Everyone was relieved that nothing seemed to be missing. None of the tools had been disturbed.
“All set?” Mr. Hatfield inquired, ready to leave.
“Just a minute,” called Dan. “I want to look at something.”
Brad was exasperated. “We’re late now,” he complained. “That Dan—he has to go kiss his sand painting goodnight. He watches over it as if it were a baby.”
“He’s done a fine job on it so far,” Mr. Holloway said warmly. “He’ll only be a minute.”
Dan, however, was gone so long that the Cubs began to grumble.
“What’s the matter with him anyhow?” Fred muttered. “He must be caressing every grain of sand! I’m going after him.”
“Here he comes now,” Midge observed.
Dan came quickly to the group. He plainly was very angry.
“It’s happened again!” he burst out.
“What’s happened?” Brad asked.
“My sand painting has been ruined! There was no wind to amount to anything either! This time I know it was done deliberately.”
“Well, for crying out loud!” Red cried indignantly. “Who is pulling this stuff? I say it’s time we get that guy and poke him in the nose!”
The Cubs and their leaders went back with Dan to view the painting. All trace of it had been obliterated.
“Even my materials are gone this time,” Dan said bitterly. “I mixed the colors so carefully too. I’m through!”
“We can’t blame you for feeling that way after twice losing your picture,” Mr. Hatfield said sympathetically. “This time we may as well forget about it, Dan. You’ve more than done your part.”
Dan remained silent for a moment, a little ashamed of his outburst.
“I suppose I could try it again,” he said after a moment. “Time’s short though. And there’s no assurance that the sand painting wouldn’t be ruined a third time.”
“Someone’s doing it out of meanness!” Red declared. “I still think Ross may have a finger in it.”
“We’ve just run into bad luck, that’s all,” Brad said. “Our troubles began when we lost the paddles and the blanket. Without a sand painting, I guess Den 1 will outshine us in the handicraft contest. But it can’t be helped. It’s not Dan’s fault.”
“I’m willing to start another painting,” Dan offered doggedly. “Maybe we could set up a guard to watch.”
Mr. Hatfield opposed this suggestion. “Someone would have to stay here on a twenty-four-hour schedule, Dan. That isn’t practical.”
“I guess not,” Dan admitted gloomily.
“We’re tired and discouraged tonight,” Mr. Hatfield resumed. “Suppose we decide what to do about the painting tomorrow. Meanwhile, maybe Mr. Holloway or I will have an inspiration.”
So the matter was left. As the Cubs started up the slope toward Mr. Holloway’s home, Mr. Hatfield recalled that his hat was lying inside the hogan. Telling the Cubs not to wait for him, he went inside to get it.
A moment later he was outside the hut again, calling excitedly to the boys.
“Come back here a minute!” he shouted. “I want to show you something!”
CHAPTER 14
RED’S SLIP OF TONGUE
At Mr. Hatfield’s shout, the Cubs, who had started toward the house, immediately turned back.
Dan was the first to reach the doorway of the hogan. He thought he could guess why the Cub leader had called.
“Something else stolen?” he demanded.
“No such thing. Take a look at this!” Mr. Hatfield focused the beam of his flashlight on the floor of the hogan.
Dan sucked in his breath, completely taken by surprise.
Skillfully laid out in brilliant colors, was a sand painting. In scope it was far more elaborate than the one which had been destroyed outside of the hut.
“Can you beat that!” Dan exclaimed. “How did it get here?”
Before Mr. Hatfield could voice an opinion, Mr. Holloway and the other Cubs had rushed up.
For awhile the hogan buzzed with excited conversation, as the boys speculated upon how the painting had been transferred.
“It wasn’t really transferred, though the basic design is the same,” Mr. Hatfield pointed out. “Dan’s painting was broken up so that the same materials could be used here to make this much more elaborate picture.”
“Who did it, and why?” Dan demanded.
“Not Ross, that’s sure,” contributed Red. “He doesn’t have that much skill.”
“This picture was done by an expert,” Mr. Holloway agreed. “An Indian, I’d judge. Note the skill with which the curving lines have been put on.”
“Why was the picture made here?” mused Brad. “Why inside the hogan?”
“I think I can guess the answer,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “Navajo sand paintings usually are done inside a hogan—often in the home of the person for whom a ‘cure’ is sought.”
“And the custom is to destroy the painting before the day is done,” Mr. Holloway added. “By tomorrow morning, we may find this picture wrecked as were the others.”
“Gosh, I hope not!” Dan exclaimed. “This painting is the best one yet.”
“It will be just the thing to set off our handicraft exhibition at the pow-wow tomorrow,” Brad declared. “We’ll really have something nifty to show the Den 1 Cubs when they show up for the canoe race!”
“Can’t we take turns guarding the hogan tonight?” suggested Mack. “I’m willing to take a trick.”
Mr. Hatfield turned down the proposal. “Your parents wouldn’t want you up all night,” he said. “Furthermore, if you did stay up, you’d be no good for the pow-wow.”
“But we don’t want to lose this sand painting, Mr. Hatfield.”
“Tell you what,” Mr. Holloway volunteered. “My house is just up the hill, so it won’t be a hardship for me to keep watch. I won’t guarantee to stay here all night, or to prevent destruction of the painting. But I’m willing to check occasionally.”
Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs thought the Den Dad would be taking too much upon himself. However, he insisted he wanted to assume guard duty, so finally it was agreed that he should assume responsibility for watching the river camp that night.
“Now, hike for home, boys,” Mr. Hatfield directed when the matter had been settled. “Get a lot of sleep tonight. Remember, tomorrow is the big day.”
The Cubs were thoroughly familiar with the program that had been planned. Early morning hours would be spent in last-minute preparations. The pow-wow, a money raising project, would start before noon and continue into the early afternoon. Parents and friends of both dens had been invited to attend.
In addition to an exhibition of craft items, a canoe race, and minor athletic events, the organization had planned an elaborate ceremonial. All Cubs planned to wear Indian costumes which they had made.
As a climax to the gathering, there was to be guitar music around a camp fire and the serving of “treats” from a chuck wagon.
A silver plaque would be awarded the den which won the highest number of points in both craft and athletic events.
Altogether, the Cubs felt that the pow-wow would be one of the most successful ceremonial affairs the organization ever had held. As an added attraction, the leaders had planned a side trip to the ravine where the parents and Den 1 boys for the first time would be given opportunity to view the mysterious carved face.
“I wish we had found out who carved the big head,” Dan remarked regretfully. “I’ll bet it was the same person who made this sand painting.”
“And very likely the same one who is hiding in the cave,” Brad muttered.
“What was that?” Midge demanded, not catching the mumbled words.
“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” Brad answered. He knew that Mr. Hatfield was not yet ready to reveal to the Cubs all of the observations made in the cave. Therefore, he remained silent.
Now that it was decided Mr. Holloway should remain to guard the camp, the Cubs were without means of transportation into Webster City. Mrs. Holloway, however, offered to drive them into town. All reached their homes a little late, but in time for dinner.
“See you tomorrow early,” Dan told Brad as they parted for the night. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
“Get a good night’s rest,” Brad advised. “Mr. Hatfield is putting us into the canoe race as a team. Midge will be a substitute.”
Dan was pleased to learn that he and Brad had been chosen to represent the den in the all-important race. The announcement was not exactly a surprise. For a long while everyone had taken it for granted that the two Cubs would be selected. By far, they were the best canoeists, with Midge a close second to Dan.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Dan bade his friend goodbye.
True to his promise, he turned in very early after putting a few finishing touches on his Indian costume. When the alarm went off at seven o’clock the next morning, he was out of bed in a flash, ready and eager for a full day.
“You’re certainly brimming with pep today,” his mother observed as he raced down the stairs for breakfast. “It’s a beautiful morning too.”
Dan quickly assembled his belongings to take to Mr. Holloway’s place.