Part 4 (1/2)

”Dear me, these steps seem steeper every time I climb them,” she laughed, pausing on the platform to recapture her breath.

Observing through the open doorway of the Cave that all the Cubs had gathered there, Mrs. Holloway expressed surprise that the treasure hunt had ended so early.

”Why, I'm late bringing the food!” she exclaimed. ”I expected the beach outing to last at least another half hour.”

Mr. Hatfield told her what had occurred, adding: ”Perhaps you can do something for the boy. He's inside.”

”You've sent for a doctor?” Mrs. Holloway inquired.

”Yes, Mr. Suell went after Dr. Redfield a few minutes ago. The lad seems to be coming around all right. He's a strange sort of boy-so far, he won't tell us his name or anything about himself.”

”I'll find out,” Mrs. Holloway said confidently.

Inside the Cave, nearly all of the Cubs had gathered about the couch where the strange boy lay. His dark brown eyes now appeared alert, and roved systematically over the room, taking in every detail.

He noted an animal skin which hung on the wall above the couch, a shelf of Indian handicraft articles, and raffia baskets made by the Cubs. His gaze dwelt longest upon a silver trophy engraved with the Den 2 name.

”We won that cup in the Pack handicraft show,” Chips volunteered, observing the boy's interest. ”Red and I made an Indian headdress which took top honors.”

”Aw, cut out the boasting,” Red interposed with a laugh. ”Remember, if it hadn't been for Brad and Dan recovering that feather war bonnet after it was carried down river with the flood, the Den wouldn't have won a thing.”

”That's right,” Chips admitted readily. ”We all worked together to earn the trophy. And to clear the Den name too.”

As all the Cubs knew, the feathers which had been so skillfully woven into the headdress had been obtained from the Silverton Pheasant Farm not many miles distant.

Due to a misunderstanding, all the Cubs had been accused of trespa.s.sing, and Chips and Red of stealing. Only by diligent work had Dan and Brad cleared the two boys of the charge.

The story of how a group of daring pheasant thieves was brought to justice, has been told in the first volume of a series, ent.i.tled: ”Dan Carter, Cub Scout.”

Quietly taking charge, Mrs. Holloway cleared the bedside by a.s.signing the Cubs to small tasks about the Cave. From a thermos bottle she poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate which she pressed to the boy's lips.

He drank slowly and then with a grateful smile expressed his thanks.

”You're feeling better now, aren't you?” the Den Mother said, straightening the blankets on the couch.

The boy nodded.

”Not very talkative, are you?” Mrs. Holloway asked with a warm smile.

”But then, you've had a most harrowing experience. How in the world did you get in the river so late at night?”

The strange lad did not rise to this bait, but allowed the question to remain unanswered.

”You haven't told us your name yet,” Mrs. Holloway reminded him.

”Jacques,” he answered after a long hesitation.

”Why, that's a French name, isn't it? Jacques-what?”

Again the boy did not answer, merely staring at her with eyes which held a troubled expression.

”Never mind,” said Mrs. Holloway. ”If you don't feel like answering questions, I won't press you. Later on perhaps you'll tell us about yourself.”