Dan Carter And The Money Box Part 27

"I know what you mean," nodded Mr. Hatfield, reflecting upon the missing biscuits. "Well, be patient with the lad. He may develop. And if there's anything I can do, call on me."

"If you could round that boy up and send him home, I'd appreciate it,"

the widow sighed. "There's no telling where he is, or when he'll come dragging in-if at all."

"You haven't had any serious trouble with him?"

The widow hesitated. "I haven't wanted to report his behavior to the Court officials, because if I do, I know they'll pack him off to the industrial school. I'm trying to give him a chance."

"But he has caused you worry? There's more to it than restlessness and running away?"

"Well, a few things have disappeared," Mrs. Jones admitted reluctantly.

"Nothing of much value, but it bothers me."

"What are some of the things that have been taken?"

"Jack always is sneaking into the ice box. He'll pack himself a lunch and disappear for hours."

"A typical boy's trick."

"Oh, I'm not complaining about the food. Though it plagues me that he doesn't come right out honest like and ask for it."

"The boy takes other things?"

"One of my black silk dresses disappeared. I'd dry cleaned it with gasoline and hung it up in the shed to air out. To tell you the truth, I forgot about it for several days. When I went to get it, well it was gone."

"What would Jack want with a black silk dress?" Mr. Hatfield questioned dubiously.

"You tell!" Mrs. Jones made a despairing gesture. "He chops wood and then half of it disappears before I can pop it into the stove. I think he carries it off to build fires in the woods and marsh."

"It's curious that he would take a dress," said the Cub leader with a puzzled shake of his head. "The other things more or less fit in with his overpowering desire to lead an outdoor life. But a woman's dress!"

"It was an old one without much value," Mrs. Jones admitted. "I liked it though, on account of the pretty jet b.u.t.tons."

At mention of jet b.u.t.tons, Dan shot Mr. Hatfield a quick glance. He saw that the Cub leader likewise was startled by the possibility which presented itself.

"What kind of b.u.t.tons, were they?" the boy asked.

"Just tiny jet b.u.t.tons, diamond in shape."

"If we find the boy, we'll send him home," Mr. Hatfield said hastily.

He was afraid that Dan or one of the other Cubs might say something which would further disturb the widow.

Herding the boys together, he led them away from the house. Once beyond hearing of the widow, they all had plenty to say.

"Jack swiped our biscuits all right!" Red said indignantly. "We're saps to let him get by with it too!"

"We ought to have him sent back to the Child Study Inst.i.tute!" added Midge. "Who does that kid think he is? We ought to clip his comb!"

Mr. Hatfield had not given much thought to the stolen food. However, he was gravely troubled by Mrs. Jones' reference to the jet b.u.t.tons.

"Do you suppose Jack was the one who came to your house that morning?"

Dan asked, falling into step with the Cub leader.

"Naturally, it raises a question in one's mind, Dan. But for the life of me, I can't understand how he would know about the tin box."

"Furthermore, he didn't live here at the time the money disappeared from your house, Mr. Hatfield."

"That's so, Dan!" the Cub leader exclaimed, obviously relieved. "For a minute I was afraid of the worst. It only goes to prove one shouldn't jump to conclusions. Guess I've said that a dozen times."

As the Cubs reached the main road, Chips called attention to a curl of smoke rising lazily from the woods.

"Someone must have a camp fire back in there," he remarked.

"It's a rather dangerous place to start a fire," Mr. Hatfield said.

"Suppose we investigate."

Turning aside from the road, the Cubs climbed a rail fence and made their way through the thickets. Picking a trail carefully, Mr. Hatfield led them single file.

"Quiet, boys," he advised as Babe kept shuffling his feet through the dry leaves. "No use advertising ourselves."

Before the Cubs had gone far into the woods, they could smell the aroma of food cooking.

Mr. Hatfield signaled for the boys to slow their pace. Treading noiselessly, they approached with caution.

At the edge of a small clearing the Cub leader abruptly halted.

Eager to see what it was that had drawn and held their leaders attention, the boys closed in about him.

"Can you beat that!" Dan whispered.

Directly ahead was a wind-sheltered hollow, framed by bare trees. A camp fire had been built close to the banks of a winding stream. On a crudely constructed spit, a dressed rabbit slowly broiled over the coals.

The one who turned the spit had his back to the Cubs. He was wrapped deeply in a heavy coat many sizes too large for his lean frame. Beside him lay a rifle.

But even though the Cubs could not see the lad's face, they recognized him instantly. The one who sat so contentedly by his fire, gazing off into s.p.a.ce, was Jack Phillips.

CHAPTER 15 A Hint from Jack

Mr. Hatfield did not fail to note the rifle, which he knew had been taken from Mrs. Jones' home. Undoubtedly it was loaded, he reasoned. If Jack were disposed to make trouble, he easily could do so.

Saying nothing to the Cubs of his misgivings, the Cub leader stepped boldly into the clearing.

Hearing the crackle of a stick, Jack whirled around.