“Brad and I want to get there early,” he explained. “We’ve been assigned to buy all the groceries and take them out to Mrs. Holloway.”
“Do you need help getting supplies to the camp?” his mother inquired. “I can borrow the car, if necessary.”
“Brad and I won’t have more than we can carry,” Dan answered. “Thanks, a lot, Mom. You’ll be at the pow-wow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it, Dan. I aim to see you win that canoe race.”
“Sure hope I don’t let you down, Mom. Or the den,” Dan added with a grin. “See you later.”
He slammed out of the house, whistling as he went. The morning was bright, with not a hint of a cloud in the sky. Dan drew a deep breath as he started for Brad’s house. He felt fine, as if he could whip his weight in Den 1 Cubs!
At the next corner, Dan ran into Red, who had been out making a last minute collection of clothing to be sent to the Navajo reservation.
“I’m on my way to meet Brad and go to the grocery store,” Dan told him. “Want to come along?”
“Sure,” Red agreed.
Brad was sweeping the garage when the two boys joined him at his home. The job was nearly finished though.
“Got a list of what we’re supposed to buy?” he asked Dan.
Dan produced the scrap of paper Mrs. Holloway had given him the previous night.
“All right, let’s go,” Brad said, setting his broom against the garage wall. “I’m through here.”
The three Cubs walked briskly to the corner grocery where they did most of their buying for the den. As they entered, Brad suddenly gripped Dan’s arm so hard that it hurt.
At the counter, buying supplies, were White Nose and Eagle Feather.
Dan and Brad decided to greet the pair casually. Red, however, became greatly excited upon seeing the Indians.
“Let’s jump ’em!” he whispered to his companions. “They’re the ones who’ve been making trouble around our camp! Let’s tell ’em a thing or two!”
“Quiet!” Dan warned, giving him a hard look.
“Pipe down,” Brad muttered. “You want to get us into trouble?”
Red, however, was not to be silenced. Before Brad or Dan could stop him, he walked over to the two Indians.
“Good morning,” he said, to attract the attention of the two Indians.
They responded to the greeting without friendliness, continuing with the buying of supplies. Their very indifference further angered Red.
“I want to ask you some questions,” he burst out. “And I want some straight answers—see!”
“Red!” Dan remonstrated, trying to grab his arm.
Red pulled away. He had no intention of being silenced.
“First off, I want to know if you and White Nose weren’t the ones that wrecked our sand painting and then remade it inside the hogan?” he demanded.
Eagle Feather now paid him the honor of being most attentive. His eyes flickered with interest as he demanded mildly:
“Sand painting?”
“Oh, you needn’t pretend you know nothing about it,” Red snapped. “You’ve both been hanging around our camp ever since you came to Webster City!”
“Your sand painting has been redone?” inquired Eagle Feather, speaking with precise English.
“Late yesterday afternoon,” Red informed him. “Oh, you know all about it!”
Dan tried vainly to pull his friend away from the grocery counter. But Red, in one of his stubborn moods, would not budge.
“We know nothing about your sand painting,” Eagle Feather said distinctly.
“The work was done by an Indian—we know that from the skillful way the picture was put together,” Red rattled on. “It must have been you and White Nose.”
“We have no skill at sand painting,” said Eagle Feather. “We know one who does have cleverness in his hands—”
Red broke in, not giving the Indian an opportunity to finish.
“I’ll bet you’ve been living in the river cave on the park reservation,” he went on.
By this time Dan and Brad were thoroughly exasperated by the rash manner in which Red was revealing information. They were particularly annoyed because they could see that their den mate was supplying the Indians with facts of great interest to them.
“Where is this cave of which you speak?” Eagle Feather asked.
Dan stepped on Red’s foot so hard that he howled with pain.
“Button your flapping lips!” Dan hissed into his ear.
Belatedly, Red realized that he had talked too much. He lapsed into a crestfallen silence.
But the damage had been done. Eagle Feather and White Nose were keen enough to know that Dan and Brad had sought to prevent their friend from revealing the exact location of the cave. They did not ask for more information.
Instead, they spoke together in their own language. Then without completing their purchases or paying for the ones already ordered, they hurriedly left the store.
“Now what got into them?” the storekeeper demanded, scratching his head. “They order groceries and then go off without taking ’em along.”
“And what was the idea of stepping on my foot?” Red demanded indignantly of his friends.
“We ought to have stepped on your tongue,” Brad retorted. “You’ve done it now!”
“Done what?”
“You had to blurt out about that cave.”
“Well, I thought they knew about it, and the sand painting too.”
“You thought wrong,” Brad said furiously. “You just fed them a lot of useful information. Now, unless I’m tangled up, they’re out for mischief.”
“Mischief?” Red echoed blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Those Indians came here looking for someone,” Brad told him. “When you mentioned the sand-painting and the cave, you evidently gave them just the clues they needed.”
“And now they’re on the way to find that cave,” Dan added. “If they should find the man they’re looking for there—wow! Fireworks!”
“Gee, I didn’t know,” Red mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
Brad thought fast. He handed the grocer the list of supplies, asking him to fill the order as quickly as he could.
“We’ve got to get out to the camp right away,” he told the other two Cubs. “White Nose and Eagle Feather are looking for trouble. If they find the cave and the medicine man they’re after, there’s no telling what they may do! We’ve got to get there first and warn him!”
CHAPTER 15
THE MAN IN THE CAVE
Now that it was too late to recall the information so carelessly given, Red was distressed by his slip of tongue.
“What’ll we do?” he asked helplessly. “Can’t we stop those Indians?”
Dan already had rushed to the grocery store door. By this time the two Indians were across the street, walking very rapidly. He called to them, but they paid no heed.
“We’ve got to find either Mr. Hatfield or Mr. Holloway right away,” he declared. “If we don’t—well, Brad’s right—no telling what may happen.”
The three Cubs were deeply worried, for White Nose and Eagle Feather plainly were being driven by thoughts of revenge.
“What’s all this about anyhow?” Red demanded. “Why are you both so scared they’ll go to the cave?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Brad shot back. “Furthermore, Dan and I haven’t time to explain things now. Come on! We’ve got to get out to camp right away or there may be no pow-wow today.”
Decidedly crestfallen to think he had made a serious blunder, Red said no more. The three Cubs quickly paid for the groceries, and with the sacks, started off at a fast walk for the Holloway place at the edge of the park preserve.
Enroute, Brad and Dan told Red of their fear that the man sought by the two Indians might be hiding in the cave.
“No one was there when we explored yesterday,” Dan admitted. “All the same, Mr. Hatfield found plenty of evidence someone had been living there recently.”
“What d’you think would happen if White Nose and Eagle Feather find the cave?” Red speculated uneasily.
“No telling,” Brad answered. He quickened his pace. “You heard that story they told about the stolen turquoise toad.”
“Gosh! You think the medicine man they’re after may be hiding in the cave?”
“We’re wondering, that’s all. If White Nose and Eagle Feather should come upon the fellow unexpectedly—well—”
“But if he stole the turquoise maybe he deserves to be punished,” Red argued.
“Maybe,” Brad shrugged. “But if I’m any judge, those Indians will do their punishing first and ask questions afterwards.”
“They had knives in their belts,” Red admitted with a shiver.
Reaching the Holloway home, the Cubs rapped on the door. Mrs. Holloway did not answer. Noticing that the garage door was open and the car missing, Brad deduced that the Den Mother had gone on a quick errand. But they did not have time to await her return.
“We’ll have to leave the groceries here on the porch,” he told the other two. “We’ve got to find Mr. Holloway. I don’t suppose Mr. Hatfield has come out to the camp yet.”
Depositing their packages, the Cubs hastened down to the river’s edge. The camp was entirely deserted. They saw that Mr. Holloway had been working there, however, for wood had been gathered for the ceremonial campfire.
Dan peered inside the hogan. The sand painting remained in perfect condition. In fact, the entire camp looked in readiness for the pow-wow. Yet no one was around.
“It’s too early,” he said. “Mr. Holloway probably went into town and the others aren’t here yet. We’ll have to wait.”
Brad paced nervously in front of the hogan, trying to decide what to do. As Den Chief, the decision rested entirely upon him. The safe, conservative thing to do, of course, was just to wait for Mr. Holloway or Mr. Hatfield and let them take over.
On the other hand, he was afraid that any delay might be serious. Although White Nose and Eagle Feather didn’t know the exact location of the cave, it wouldn’t take them long to find it, now that they had a clue upon which to work. If the mysterious occupant of the cave were to be warned in time, it would have to be immediately.
“I’m going to try to get to the cavern ahead of White Nose and Eagle Feather,” he announced with sudden decision. “With luck, I may make it.”
“We’ll go with you,” Dan insisted. “It’s not safe alone.”
Not wasting a minute, the three started off through the woods. They were a considerable distance from camp before they remembered that they had not left a note for Mr. Holloway or Mr. Hatfield to explain their absence.
“We may get back before they show up,” Brad said. “I hope so, but there’s no telling what we may run into. I sure hope we aren’t making a mistake starting off this way.”
In an attempt to take a short route to the cave, Brad chose an inland route. There was no marked trail. Every inch of the distance was a battle against the underbrush. When finally the boys emerged on the beach, not more than a hundred yards from the cave, they were worn from their struggles.
Dan suddenly reached out and jerked Red back into the bushes.
“Down!” he commanded.
Red ducked low and then demanded in a whisper:
“What’s the idea?”
“Look out on the river and you’ll see!”
Red and Brad both peered through a gap in the foliage. Some distance upstream, but well within their range of vision, White Nose and Eagle Feather could be seen paddling close to shore in a red canoe.
“They’re searching for the cave all right!” Brad observed. “If they see us now, it will be a dead give-away.”
The Cubs knew that their best bet was to lie low and wait. Accordingly, they flattened themselves on the earth, at intervals raising up briefly to survey the slowly moving canoe.
“They’re starting the other way now,” Brad observed in relief. “They haven’t found the cave entrance yet, and they may miss it.”
“Think it’s safe to duck in there now?” Dan asked.
“Let’s wait a little longer,” Brad cautioned. “Until they get around that bend in the river, we’ll be exposed, once we come out of hiding.”
The Cubs waited, nervously aware of how fast time was passing. By now the sun was well up over the treetops, beating down mercilessly upon their backs.
“We won’t have too much time, you know,” Dan reminded his companions. “The pow-wow starts at eleven sharp. Mr. Hatfield will be chewing his fingernails if we don’t get back in plenty of time.”
Brad remained silent, his gaze on the canoe. Now that they were near the mouth of the cave, he wondered if he had been rash to propose entering it without Mr. Hatfield or Mr. Holloway along.
Even in broad daylight the cave looked forbidding, and this time the Cubs were not supplied with flashlights or candles.
“We can give it up and go back,” he suggested. “After all, White Nose and Eagle Feather haven’t found the entranceway. They may miss it entirely.”
“No chance of that, if they come back this way,” Dan said significantly.
“The mouth is well guarded by bushes.”
“Yeah,” Dan agreed, “but look sharp and tell me what you see.”
Both Brad and Red peered intently toward the cave entrance. At first they noticed nothing unusual. Then they noted a thin wisp of black smoke issuing from the jagged mouth.
“Someone’s got a fire in there!” Red exclaimed.
“And that smoke can be seen out on the river,” Brad added in alarm. “This settles it! We’ll have to go in there and warn the guy. I’ve got a hunch Mr. Hatfield wouldn’t want us to get mixed up in this business, but what else can we do?”
Neither Red nor Dan were eager to enter the dark cave, yet they agreed with Brad that the occupant should be warned of his danger.
“Let’s get on with it,” Brad said briskly. “You two can wait here and I’ll go in alone.”
“Nothing doing,” Dan rejected the proposal. “We’ll stick with you. Won’t we, Red?”
“Sure,” the latter agreed, though without enthusiasm. “Lead on!”
By this time the canoe bearing White Nose and Eagle Feather had rounded the river bend and was out of sight.
Rolling up the trouser legs of their Cub uniforms, the boys removed shoes and socks, hiding the latter in the bushes.
Then with Brad leading, the three scrambled over the jagged rocks to the cave entrance. As they stood there a moment, gathering courage, a little puff of black smoke issued forth.
“Someone’s in there, all right,” Brad muttered. “You fellows follow behind me, and try not to make any noise. We want to find out what we’re running into before we reveal ourselves.”
The swift-moving underground stream felt icy cold as the boys stepped into it. Red, who never had been inside the cave, felt especially nervous. He kept close to Dan, occasionally bumping into him.
Without a light to guide them, the Cubs could neither see nor be seen. However, the bright mouth provided dim illumination for a short distance. After that, they were in complete and rather terrifying darkness.
Brad, who kept ahead of his companions, found the smoke increasingly unpleasant as he moved deeper into the tunnel. He covered his face with a handkerchief to ward off any inclination to cough.
Approaching the inner rock ledge above the stream, Brad signalled his companions to be very cautious.
The smoke had become thick, and ahead he could see the faint glow of a fire. From the odor of the smoke, he knew that game was being cooked.
Fancy was not playing a trick upon him, for as the smoke cleared, he distinctly made out the figure of a man crouched over the fire.
The problem of how to make themselves known to the stranger solved itself most unexpectedly. Red tried to smother a cough and could not do so.
In the silent cave, the sound echoed loudly. Brad, Dan and Red flattened themselves against the rough limestone wall. Too late!
The man crouching over the fire had heard the cough. He started up, staring into the darkness, directly at the three frightened Cubs.
CHAPTER 16
DANGER
Brad did not know whether or not the old Indian actually saw them in the darkness. But he decided to take no chance of being mistaken for an enemy.
“Hello,” he said, and his voice echoed weirdly in the cavern, “cooking your dinner?”
With a show of friendliness, he stepped out into the glare of the fire. Dan and Red followed his example, though not without misgiving. Would the old cave dweller accept them as friends? Or would he be hostile? In the darkness they could not see whether or not he wore a knife at his belt.
For a full minute, the old Indian stood tense on the rock floor, staring at the three Cubs. In the glare of the fire they saw that he was gaunt and lean, with a bony, unwrinkled face. Prominent cheek bones pulled the skin tightly.
“Good morning,” Brad said, gaining confidence as the Indian made no hostile move. “Cooking a rabbit, I see.”
The stranger replied with a deep-throated grunt which the Cubs took for assent. He did not seem unfriendly, however, only guarded and a trifle dazed.
Oddly enough, the old Indian did not question the boys as to their unexpected presence in the cave. Apparently accepting them as friends, he motioned for them to share the warmth of his fire.
The Cubs squatted around it, watching the old fellow rotate the cooking rabbit on a crudely fashioned spit.
Without saying anything, Dan nudged Red to direct his attention toward the wall behind them. Not far from the pile of balsam boughs lay the Navajo blanket which had disappeared from the Cub camp a few days earlier!
Brad cleared his throat and after telling his name, tried to draw the old Indian into conversation. Aside from learning that the other’s name was Miquel and that he was a Navajo of the Beebitchni clan, he made little headway.
Paying scant heed to the Cubs, old Miquel carried on a sing-sing monologue in a tongue the boys could not understand.
At intervals he broke into English, but the words made no sense to the three listeners.
“Turquoise Mountain, king of mountains, everlastingly beautiful,” the old Indian muttered.
“So what?” Red mumbled into Dan’s ear. “What sort of jargon is this?”
Old Miquel did not appear to hear Red’s remark.
“It does me no harm, no harm,” he rambled on, “for I am Holy with the Fire.”
“He’s out of his head,” Red whispered to Dan. “He’s completely lost his buttons!”
The old Indian had arisen from the fire, turning dramatically toward the east. He made a picture as he stood there in the flickering firelight, his calico shirt open at the throat. In one ear he wore a single turquoise ornament.
“The male porcupine eats gum,” he entoned. “I do it in a Holy way.”
“He’s reciting parts of a chant, I think,” Brad volunteered his opinion. “Miquel hardly knows we’re here. Do you Miquel?”
The Indian went on with his chant, not even glancing at Brad or giving any indication that he had heard.
“He’s in a mental fog, all right,” Red insisted. “I’ll bet though, that he’s that old medicine man White Nose and Eagle Feather are after!”
Hearing the two names spoken, Miquel paused in his weird, meaningless chanting to stare at Red. But a responsive thought chain almost immediately was broken. He seemed to forget the two familiar names as quickly as he heard them and went on with his prattle:
“I am thinking of crossing the river.... I am thinking of going home.”
“If White Nose and Eagle Feather jump him for stealing, he won’t go anywhere!” Red remarked uneasily. “Brad, tell him why we came.”
“I’ll try. I don’t know whether or not I can get it across to him.”
The Den Chief began very patiently, attempting to make Miquel understand that if he remained in the cave he might be in grave danger.
“White Nose and Eagle Feather are looking for you,” he tried to explain. “They’re hunting for the entrance to this cave right now. We came here to warn you.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Dan, trying to drive home the point. “We don’t know what you’ve done, but White Nose and Eagle Feather are out for revenge. Unless you want to get into trouble with them, you’d better move on to another hiding place.”
Old Miquel had listened attentively to the two Cubs. They were hopeful that he had understood at least part of what they had said. But when he spoke, they knew they had completely failed.
“Rabbit almost done now,” he said cheerfully. “We eat.”
Removing the meat from the spit, he divided it into four equal parts. Brad and Red refused a share. Old Miquel’s hurt was so apparent that Dan accepted his share. However, he only made a pretense of eating, as he watched the old Indian ravenously devour the remainder of the food.
“He’s half starved,” Brad observed in deep concern. “We’ve got to get him out of here.”
“How?” Dan asked. “He hasn’t seemed to understand anything we’ve said to him.”
Brad waited until Miquel had nearly finished eating. Then he touched him on the shoulder, saying in a friendly way:
“Come with us, Miquel, to our camp. We’re friends.”
“Friends,” the old fellow echoed in a child-like way.
But when Brad and Dan attempted to lead him away from the fire, he pulled away from them.
“He won’t leave here,” Red muttered. “What’s the use trying to help him?”
“We have to,” Brad said firmly. “You can see he’s half starved. If those two Indians should come upon him here, there’s no telling what might happen.”
“Brad’s right,” Dan agreed. “We ought to get him out of here. But how to do it?”
The Cubs took turns trying to make the old Indian understand. It was so much breath wasted.
“He acts like a sleep walker,” Brad remarked in perplexity. “Never ran into anything like it before in all my life.”
“Do you suppose he suffered an injury?” Dan speculated. “He doesn’t seem to have much of any memory of the past. He just keeps mumbling those chants.”
The Cubs did not know what to do. From Old Miquel’s appearance and actions, they were satisfied that he was the medicine man for whom White Nose and Eagle Feather searched so ruthlessly. They suspected too that he was the one who had carved the remarkable face on the wall of the ravine. Likewise, he was the one who had taken their Navajo blanket and possibly food from the camp.
Had he also completed so expertly the sand painting after perhaps destroying Dan’s picture?
In the cave there was considerable evidence that Miquel was indeed a man of many talents. On one of the walls, he had marked a strange design with charcoal. In another place, he had drawn characters not unlike those which appeared on the completed sand painting.
“We’re wasting our time trying to make him understand,” Brad finally said. “We can’t persuade him to leave, that’s certain. Now what’ll we do?”
“Leave him here,” Red suggested. “He’ll get along all right until we can get back to camp and tell Mr. Hatfield.”
“He’ll be safe providing White Nose and Eagle Feather don’t come along. But if they should find the entrance to this cave—wow!”
“Why borrow trouble?” shrugged Red, always inclined to take the optimistic view. “They were a long distance down stream when we saw ’em last.”
“But they may return.”
“And if they do, they’ll notice smoke coming out of the cave entrance,” Dan predicted. “I guess we’ll have to take that chance though.”
Brad nodded and warned: “We can’t stay here much longer, unless we want to miss the Pack pow-wow. We’ve done our best to tip him off.”
“It’s getting late,” Dan said uneasily. “You know it took quite awhile to get to the cave.”
“And no one knows we’re here,” Brad agreed. “We’ll have to go. Right now.”
The Cubs were reluctant to leave Old Miquel alone, for he appeared in a half-dazed condition. They were certain that he needed not only food and better living quarters, but medical attention.
Nevertheless, it seemed hopeless to try to persuade him to leave with them. Their best bet, they thought, would be to go for assistance and return as quickly as they could.
The three Cubs tried to tell Miquel of their intention. It was obvious, however, that he did not comprehend.
They were ready to leave when Dan’s keen ears detected an unusual sound in the cavern.
“Listen!” he whispered.
Brad and Red already were aware of the sound at the entranceway to the cavern. They distinctly could hear splashing as if more than one person were wading along the passageway.
“Someone’s coming!” Dan warned.
“Those Indians probably,” Brad whispered back. “They’ve found the entranceway! Now we’re in for it.”
Old Miquel also had heard the sound, for he listened attentively, though without undue interest. After a moment, he went on eating his meal with complete unconcern.
“The goof doesn’t even know he may be in danger,” Red muttered. “What are we going to do? Those guys may prove nasty.”
Brad was worried. Plainly the men were moving closer, for the splashing noises now could be heard distinctly. They knew one of the men had stumbled over a rock, for they heard him grunt as he picked himself up from the water.
The boys looked about for a hiding place.
Their only chance of avoiding detection was to step far back against the cave wall, away from the glare of the firelight.
“Quick!” Brad warned.
To try to take Old Miquel with them was out of the question. Retreating, the three Cubs sought the innermost recess of the cave. Flattening themselves against the moist wall, they breathlessly waited.
CHAPTER 17
RED’S MISTAKE
Scarcely had Brad, Dan and Red taken refuge than two shadowy figures emerged through the tunnel.
Watching tensely from a niche in the limestone shelf, they saw Eagle Feather climb nimbly from the floor of the underground stream to the rim of the circular chamber.
He stood there silhouetted in the opening, the firelight flickering upon his fierce features. In his hand was a drawn knife.
Seeing the weapon, Red clutched Dan’s hand in a tight grip. He held his breath, fearful lest he draw attention to himself or his mates.
The Cubs were more afraid for Miquel than for themselves. But the old Indian medicine man remained undisturbed.
Observing White Nose and Eagle Feather on the ledge above him, he murmured, “Ah-hah-lah-nih,” in affectionate greeting.
White Nose and Eagle Feather leaped down in front of the old Indian, their attitude hostile. They spoke rapidly, fiercely in their own tongue.
Brad, Dan and Red could not understand what was being said, though they caught one word “turquoise.”
They guessed, however, that the two Indians were accusing the old medicine man of having stolen the turquoise toad from the tribe.
Old Miquel began shaking his head in a bewildered way. Abandoning the fire, he backed away from his accusers.
Step by step, White Nose and Eagle Feather pursued him.
Old Miquel backed nearer and nearer the edge of the ledge.
To the horror of the Cubs, he suddenly toppled backwards into the deep pool. He struggled briefly and went down.
Before Brad and Dan could make a move, White Nose leaped into the water. He submerged, and seemingly could not find Old Miquel’s body. In a moment though, he was back on the surface, holding Old Miquel by a lock of his long, black hair.
Eagle Feather helped to haul the old man out on the ledge.
“He’s done for,” he said, speaking in English. “His head was gashed on a rock.”
“The Gods have spoken,” muttered White Nose. “Vengeance is not to be ours. They have punished him for robbing his people of the Turquoise Toad.”
“Let us go,” replied Eagle Feather.
To the horror of the watching Cubs, the two Indians made no attempt to revive the old man. Taking it for granted that he already was beyond help, they quitted the cavern.
Brad, Dan and Red waited only until they were certain that the two Indians did not intend to return.
Then, they went quickly to the old man who lay motionless on the ledge. Brad stripped off his jacket and placed it over the wet body. The old fellow did not stir.
“He wasn’t under water long enough to have taken much into his lungs,” the boy declared, feeling of the Indian’s pulse. “Got a handkerchief?”
Dan produced one which the older boy used to staunch the flow of blood at Old Miquel’s temple.
“He must have hit his head on a rock all right,” he declared. “But the cut isn’t deep. It’s mostly a flesh wound.”
“How’s his pulse?” Red inquired anxiously. “Is he still alive?”
“I think so. The pulse is so weak though that I hardly can catch it. White Nose and Eagle Feather evidently thought he was dead or they wouldn’t have gone off.”
“What’ll we do?” Dan asked. “Go for help?”
“He needs a doctor right away. But I’m afraid to leave him here alone.”
“If he revives, he might roll off into the pool,” Dan agreed. “Then he’d sure drown.”
The three Cubs huddled about the prone figure, uncertain what to do. Aside from their fears for Old Miquel they knew that their own long absence from the Cub camp might have occasioned considerable alarm.
By now they had lost all track of time, but they were certain more than two hours had elapsed since they had left Webster City. Soon it would be time for the Pack pow-pow to start. With three Cubs absent, the Den 1 boys would be frantic.
Dan searched in the darkness until he found the Navajo blanket which belonged to Professor Sarazen. This he used as an additional covering over the old Indian.
“We can’t leave him alone, that’s sure,” Brad said with decision. “Dan, you and Red, hot-foot it for the camp. I’ll stay here.”
“You’re needed more than I am to run off the events and take part in the canoe race,” Dan replied. “Without you, Den 2 hasn’t a chance.”
“Getting help for Old Miquel is more important than winning a competition, Dan.”
“Of course,” the younger boy agreed simply. “But you’ll be needed while Midge can substitute for me in the race. See what I mean?”
“The Pack comes first,” Red sided with Dan. “I’d stay and let Dan go only—well, I might as well admit it, I’m scared to death to be here alone.”
Neither Dan nor Brad made light of Red’s fears for they knew that even an hour’s wait in the cave could prove a terrifying experience.
“We’re wasting valuable time,” Dan urged. “Get going, you two. I don’t mind staying. Honestly, I don’t.”
“Want Red to wait with you?”
“No. If the pow-wow is run off, he’ll be needed in camp. No use tying him down here when he couldn’t do any good. I’ll make out.”
“We’ll hurry as fast as we can,” Brad promised. “The second we reach camp, we’ll send a doctor and some stretcher bearers.”
The Den Chief clasped Dan’s hand for an instant, well aware that the younger boy deliberately had sacrificed himself that his Cubmates might have a better chance to win.
“If Old Miquel should come to, he might get rough,” Brad warned in parting. “Don’t take chances. If he makes trouble, just get out of the cave as fast as you can.”
“Sure,” Dan promised. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. Just get to camp as fast as you can and tell Mr. Hatfield what happened.”
With reluctance, Red and Brad started off through the tunnel, not at all sure that they were doing right in leaving Dan behind. But then, they had no choice. Old Miquel must have medical attention at once, or he might never recover.
At the mouth of the cave, the two Cubs halted briefly to take bearings. White Nose and Eagle Feather had vanished. The sun was well up in the sky, indicating that the hour was even later than they had anticipated.
“Gosh, I’ll bet the pow-wow has started!” Red exclaimed. “We’ve got to get back fast.”
Brad edged around the ledge to the beach. He was starting off the way they had come when Red halted him with a suggestion.
“I know a shorter way,” he insisted. “It’s through the woods, and hard going for a short distance. But we can cut off at least twenty minutes.”
“You’re sure of the trail?” Brad asked dubiously.
“It isn’t marked, but I know this section. Besides, one can’t get lost in the park.”
“Don’t you believe it!” Brad replied. “Maybe not permanently lost, but one could lose a lot of time wandering around looking for a main road or a marked path.”
“We’re not far from our camp, Brad. I’m sure of the way.”
“Okay then, lead off. The important thing is to get back as fast as we can. Old Miquel’s life may depend upon it.”
Confidently, Red started off, circling behind the beach into a dense forest of towering trees.
At first the going was quite easy, but as they moved farther and farther from the water front, the underbrush became more difficult. Soon they encountered a swampy area which slowed them down.
“Say, we’re not making any time this way,” Brad protested, wading through a boggy place. “Let’s strike back toward the beach.”
“The going will be easier as soon as we’re through this,” Red insisted. “I remember. Even though it’s hard going for a little while, we’ll save time.”
Brad had his own opinion. However, realizing that it was too late to turn back now without losing more precious minutes, he kept silent. He blamed himself severely for having listened to Red. From past experience he should have known that the younger boy’s enthusiasm often carried him away.
The swampy area behind them, the Cubs looked in vain for a marked trail.
“We should have hit it right here,” Red declared, deeply troubled. “Well, it can’t be too far ahead.”
“You’re not losing your way, are you?” Brad demanded. “Dan’s back there in the cave, waiting and—”
“I’ll get you into camp,” Red cut in though with less confidence. “I may be a little mixed, but I’m sure of my directions. We’ll strike the marked trail any minute now.”
On they plowed, past fallen trees and then through another stretch of mosquito swamp. By this time Red was mud to his knees. The sleeve of his jacket was torn, and his face had been scratched by brambles. Brad was in little better condition.
For awhile Red kept doggedly on, the older boy plodding behind him. Then they came to another much larger area of fairly deep swamp. Both boys halted, gazing at each other in despair.
“We’re lost,” Red burst out, “and it’s all my fault. I thought I knew the way. Now I’m mixed up.”
Brad did not blame his friend for he knew he had tried his best.
“We can’t cross this swamp area,” he said quietly. “We made a bad mistake leaving the beach route. Now we’ll have to retrace part of our way, and try to hit the old trail.”
“That will delay us a lot. And Dan—he’ll be expecting us.”
“I know,” Brad said grimly. “We’ve let him down. But it can’t be helped. We made one mistake. The important thing is not to make two of ’em. With luck, we’ll still reach camp before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER 18
THE POW-WOW
Mr. Hatfield stood in the doorway of the hogan, staring past the Holloway home on the hill toward the main road.
“It’s not like Brad and Dan to be late,” he remarked to Mr. Holloway. “I can’t guess what’s keeping them.”
“Red’s not here either,” the Den Dad returned looking worried. “The boys were here early—we know that, because a sack of food was left on our porch. But what’s become of ’em?”
The sun had risen high and the hour set for the start of the Pack pow-wow now approached. All the Cubs shared Mr. Hatfield’s uneasiness. Without Dan and Brad, particularly the latter, it would be most difficult to carry on the planned ceremonies and competitions.
Already the Den 1 boys were starting to arrive for the big meet, many of them with their parents.