Dan Carter, Cub Scout, and the River Camp

  Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  He had found a small cardboard box."Dan Carter--Cub Scout and the River Camp" (_See Page 13_)

  Dan Carter Cub Scout and the River Camp

  by Mildred A. Wirt

  Illustrated

  CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY Publishers New York

  Copyright, 1949, by CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY _All Rights Reserved_

  DAN CARTER--CUB SCOUT AND THE RIVER CAMP

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  1 Found in the Sand 1 2 A Coded Message 15 3 Stolen Furs 30 4 Fluke Victory 45 5 Paper Bag Eddie 59 6 Stranded 71 7 Camp Site 80 8 "Dan Carter--Take Warning" 95 9 A Missing Code 108 10 The Man at the Spring 122 11 A Barbecue for the Cubs 137 12 Following the Trail 150 13 Identifying a Prisoner 161 14 Victory for Den 2 184 15 The Pay-Off 204

  Dan Carter--Cub Scout and the River Camp

  CHAPTER 1 Found in the Sand

  "Unless a breeze springs up soon, we'll be late for the Cub Scout meetingin the Cave," Dan Carter complained.

  Sprawled in the drifting dinghy, the sandy-haired boy raised his eyes tothe limp sail which hung in discouraged folds from the tall mast.

  "We've already missed the first part of it," remarked Midge Holloway.

  A freckled youth of ten, he had draped himself pretzel-fashion over theboat's bow. His skinny legs dangled a bare inch above the placid surfaceof the wide river.

  "What time is it anyhow?" he demanded.

  At the tiller of the sailboat, Midge's father, Burton Holloway, snappedon his flashlight to see the dial of his wrist watch. An official "DenDad" of Webster City Den No. 2, he frequently made river trips with theboys and allowed them to use his sailboat whenever they liked.

  On this summer day, the three, after scrubbing the craft's fouled bottom,had set forth for a brief sail. The wind, however, had died suddenly,leaving them stranded far from their Yacht Club moorings.

  "It's ten after eight," Mr. Holloway answered his son. "We'll have towork a little if we expect to get in tonight."

  Reaching for a paddle, he plied it steadily. With snail-like speed theawkward-sized dinghy moved toward the twinkling lights visible on shore.With the coming of darkness, a cold, penetrating fog had closed in overthe water.

  "Wish I'd brought a jacket," Dan said with a shiver. "Want me to take aturn at the paddle, Mr. Holloway?"

  "No thanks, Dan, I'm good for awhile yet. I blame myself for beingstranded out here. The wind was dying when we left the yacht club. So Iguess we asked for trouble!"

  For some time Mr. Holloway paddled in silence. Now and then a big fishwould leap and plop into the water nearby. Otherwise, the river seemedunusually quiet.

  Then unexpectedly from the direction of Skeleton Island came the muffledroar of a powerful motor boat engine.

  Dan twisted around to gaze upstream. He could hear the sound of the motorplainly but the running lights of the approaching craft were not yetvisible through the mist.

  "If that boat comes this way, we'll ask for a tow," Mr. Hollowayremarked. "Maybe we're in luck."

  Resting on the paddle for a moment, the Den Dad allowed the dinghy todrift with the current. The roar of the motorboat engine now hadincreased in volume. Yet strangely, no one in the sailboat had sightedthe oncoming craft.

  "Can it be running without lights?" Mr. Holloway remarked somewhatanxiously. "The pilot should know better than that."

  Through the mist, Dan suddenly made out the dark, sleek outline of aspeed craft which rode low in the water. Foam boiled from her prow as shesplit the waves.

  "There she is!" the boy exclaimed. "Heading this way, and coming fast!"

  Alarmed lest the craft run down the sailboat in the darkness, Mr.Holloway turned the beam of his flashlight upon the limp sail overhead.To make certain that they were seen, he flashed the light on and offseveral times.

  No answering response came from the motorboat which drove directly towardthe sailboat.

  "Can't they see us?" Mr. Holloway demanded anxiously.

  The motor craft now was so close that those in the stranded sailboatcaught a fleeting glimpse of a stout man in dungarees who manned thewheel. Of square jaw, the upper part of his face was hidden by a billedsailor's cap.

  "Hey, look out!" Dan yelled. "Turn on your running lights!"

  The pilot evidently heard for he swerved the wheel slightly. And thendeliberately, as if angered by the boy's remark, he spun the spokesagain, bearing directly down upon the drifting sailboat.

  Instinctively, Mr. Holloway and the two Cubs braced themselves for acrash.

  The pilot of the speed boat laughed boisterously. Having accomplished hispurpose--that of frightening the occupants of the sailing dinghy--he thenswerved away.

  But he had misjudged the distance. As the motorboat swung, its sterngrazed the mid-section of the sailing craft. Though the blow was aglancing one, mahogany splintered with a grinding crash.

  Choppy waves flung the sailboat far over on its beam. Water began to seepin through a break in the over-lap.

  Instead of throttling down, the motorboat sped away into the darkness.

  "Why, that dirty crook!" Midge exclaimed furiously. "He's wrecked ourboat, and he doesn't even intend to stop! Hey, you!"

  The man at the wheel turned slightly. In the moment before he raised hishand to cover the exposed lower part of his face, Dan obtained a fleetingbut clear view of him. Two others in the boat crouched low and kept theirbacks turned.

  Mr. Holloway leaped to his feet in the teetering sailboat. Flashing hislight on the disappearing craft, he tried to discern the license number.None was visible.

  Despite the shouts of Mr. Holloway and the Cubs, the boat did not slackenspeed. Soon it was nearly out of sight, still running without lights.

  "Those men should be arrested!" Midge declared. "They struck us onpurpose!"

  Dan had noticed that his feet were resting in an inch of water.

  "Say, we've sprung a leak!" he cried, scrambling for a bailing can whichwas kept under the seat. "Now we are in a jam!"

  The latest emergency caused Mr. Holloway to divert his attention from themotorboat. Anxiously, he examined the jagged hole in the mahoganyover-lap through which a trickle of water oozed.

  "Midge, give me that rag under the seat!" he directed.

  As his son handed it over, Mr. Holloway wedged it as tightly as he couldinto the larger hole, pressing it in with his knife blade.

  "That should help some, but we're still
shipping water," he saidanxiously. "We'll have to bail."

  Already Dan was at work dipping with the tin can which was kept for justsuch an emergency. While Mr. Holloway paddled hard for shore, he andMidge took turns dipping water from the bottom of the boat. By workingsteadily, they could keep ahead of it.

  "I'd certainly like to know who those men were that struck us," Mr.Holloway remarked. "Aside from the damage they've done to our boat,they're a menace on the river."

  "Dad, didn't you think the boat looked a little like Jonathan Manheim's?"Midge inquired. "It was built on the same general lines."

  "I did notice a resemblance," Mr. Holloway replied. "But I never beforesaw the man at the wheel. I'd hate to think it was Manheim's boat."

  Fairly well known to the Cubs, Mr. Manheim was the owner of SkeletonIsland and a prominent member of the Webster City Yacht Club.

  "Do you think he would try to run us down deliberately?" Dan asked,working steadily with the bailing can.

  "It doesn't seem so to me, Dan. It's possible that someone else borrowedhis boat. However, since we failed to get the license number, it'suseless to speculate."

  "Odd that the boat was showing no lights," Dan said thoughtfully. "Also,I wonder if it carried a license?"

  By this time even the faint roar of the motorboat's engine had died awayfar up the river. Mr. Holloway and the Cubs knew by following the soundthat the craft had not returned to the Webster City Yacht Club. Where itwould dock they could not guess.

  "You'll try to make those men pay for the damage, won't you, Dad?" Midgedemanded. The shore now was so close he could see the twinkling lightswhich marked the outline of the yacht club slip.

  "I certainly will if I can, Midge. Unfortunately, we have no proof it wasManheim's boat."

  "He may have a few scratches to show, Dad."

  "Yes, if we notice tomorrow that his speedboat is banged up, we can bequite certain he's the guilty party. Even so, we'll have to be rathercareful in taking the matter up with him. Manheim has many friends in theclub."

  "He won't have 'em long if he makes a practice of running downsailboats," said Midge. "We're lucky our boat didn't sink."

  Five minutes later, the dinghy, heavily logged with water, limped to itsberth at the yacht club dock.

  "Hurry on to your Cub Scout meeting, boys," Mr. Holloway urged. "I'lllook after the boat and make a few inquiries around the club."

  Thus urged, Dan and Midge hastened along a graveled path which curledtoward a steep hillside overlooking the water front.

  A long flight of wooden steps led up to a natural limestone cave in therocks high above the beach. Some months before, the Cubs by hard laborhad converted this cavern into a meeting place. The room now wasattractively furnished with a couch, table, magazines and trophies.

  Breathless from hurrying, the boys reached the Cave entranceway. Alreadythe Cub meeting was in progress.

  Sam Hatfield, athletic coach at Webster High School, and Cub leader,stood in the center of the cavern talking earnestly to the boys.

  Grouped about him in the lighted room were Brad Wilber who was Den Chief,Chips Davis, Red Suell, Mack Tibbets, and Sam's own son, Fred Hatfield.

  "Glad to see you, boys," the Cub leader greeted Dan and Midge. "Butaren't you a little late?"

  Stammering apologies, Dan and Midge explained that they had been delayedon the river. Without mentioning Mr. Manheim's name, they related howtheir boat had been smashed.

  "I knew something unusual must have kept you away from the meeting,"declared the Cub leader. "Too bad about Mr. Holloway's boat. I hope youcatch those fellows."

  "Have we missed much of the meeting, Mr. Hatfield?" Dan asked anxiously.

  "Not the treasure hunt," the Cub leader reassured him. "We just wound upthe business meeting. Briefly, the Den has decided upon two goals for thesummer. The first is to win the Pack swimming meet next month."

  "That's where you come in, Dan," spoke up Brad. Nearly fourteen, thedark-haired youngster was a Boy Scout and the acknowledged leader of theCubs. Even-tempered, quick of wit and fair, he had earned the respect ofthe younger, boys.

  "How so?" Dan caught him up.

  "You're the best swimmer in the outfit. We're depending on you to crashthrough and win the silver cup for Den 2."

  "I'll do my best," Dan promised with a pleased grin. "Guess I'll have toget busy right away and polish off my crawl stroke."

  "What's the second goal, Mr. Hatfield?" Midge inquired.

  "Well, the Cubs have voted to help the Scouts earn enough money to buy apermanent camp on Skeleton Island."

  "Skeleton Island?" Midge repeated, glancing quickly at Dan. "Mr.Manheim's place?"

  "Yes, the camp will belong to the Scouts, but our Den will have theprivilege of using it for day trips and occasional over-night jaunts."

  "We need both your votes on the project," Brad interposed. "Since it's tobe a Scout rather than a Cub camp, we don't aim to go into it unlessevery member of the Den is in favor of the idea."

  "Why buy a chunk of Skeleton Island?" Midge inquired.

  "It's the only suitable island hereabouts," Mr. Hatfield explained. "Wefigure Mr. Manheim shouldn't ask too high a figure for a small beachsection. Of course, if you boys are against the project--"

  "You may have my vote," Dan said after a slight hesitation.

  "And mine," added Midge, a trifle reluctantly. "I just hope you're rightabout Mr. Manheim being generous enough to sell at a low price."

  Being uncertain that their dinghy had been struck by Mr. Manheim'smotorboat, neither Midge nor Dan told the Cubs why mention of his namehad disturbed them.

  The business meeting presently ended with the boys gathering in a circleto repeat the Cub Promise.

  "I promise TO DO MY BEST To be SQUARE and To OBEY the law of the Cub Pack."

  Parents began to drift into the Cave. On this particular night, a beachtreasure hunt had been planned. Everything now was in readiness. Clueshad been carefully hidden throughout the beach area.

  Red Suell's father handed out typewritten slips of paper containing hintsin scrambled letters.

  "You're to hunt in pairs," he instructed the Cubs. "The treasure chesthas been hidden somewhere within a quarter mile of the Cave. The firstpair to find it should signal by giving the Cub whistle. Then we'll alljoin on the beach for a feed before going home."

  Dan and Brad drew identical numbers which meant they were to hunttogether. Eagerly they scanned their slip of paper on which appeared thescrambled sentence:

  "Dinf eht glgyascr koa."

  "The first two words are 'find the--,'" Dan discerned at a glance. "Butwhat are those other two mind-teasers?"

  "The last one is oak," Brad contributed. "'Find the oak!' But what kindof oak?"

  "Scraggly oak!" Dan deciphered the final word. "Come on, Brad!"

  With a shout, the two boys were off, leaving the other Cubs to puzzle outtheir various clues. Clattering down the steps, the pair raced across thesmooth sand.

  The light of a pale moon plainly silhouetted a stunted oak tree againstthe dark sky. Making a bee line for it, the boys searched diligently foranother clue.

  "Here it is!" Dan suddenly shouted.

  At the base of the tree he had found a small cardboard box. Inside wasanother scrambled sentence which directed the boys to search for a largepiece of driftwood.

  "The beach is littered with washed-up debris," Brad observed. "This gameis getting tougher."

  Other Cubs now began to appear on the water front. However, as each cluewas different, the treasure hunters remained widely separated.

  Brad and Dan turned up perhaps twenty pieces of driftwood before theyfound their third clue. The scrambled message required a long time todecipher. On a ragged piece of cardboard had been printed:

  "Kloo denur a toab dna ouy amy dinf a hsoelv."

  "Look under a boat and you may find a shovel!" Dan finally figured itout. "A shovel! Yipee! That means we're getting close to the treasurechest. Maybe our next clue will
lead us to it."

  "And we're miles ahead of the other Cubs," chuckled Brad. "The questionis, where's the boat?"

  Neither boy could recall having seen one on the beach that day. Becausetheir clue had directed them to search beneath the craft, they wereconvinced that the boat must be an old one, probably overturned orabandoned somewhere on the sands.

  "Let's look on that stretch that extends out toward the lighthouse," Bradproposed. "It's a lonely spot--just the type of place you'd expect theDen Dads to select for the big treasure chest pay-off."

  Scanning every inch of the sand, the boys dog-trotted toward thelighthouse. As its bright beam swept across the water, Dan noticed a darkoutline on the beach some distance ahead.

  "That looks like a boat!" he exclaimed.

  Focusing their eyes upon it, the boys plunged on through the loose sand.In the semi-darkness Dan paid scant heed to his footing. He stumbled, andthen suddenly halted, staring ahead.

  A dark object lay half hidden behind a little mound of sand.Unmistakably, the form was human.

  "Jeepers!" he whispered. "_Jeepers!_"

  Brad too had seen the figure in the sand and had halted with a jerk.

  "What's this?" he muttered. "Not a joke the Den Dads are pulling on us?"

  The form at their feet was that of a boy no older than Dan. One armoutstretched, he lay in a posture of complete exhaustion. His clothingwas water-soaked, his dark hair damp.

  "This is no joke," Brad said soberly. "Whoever this youngster is, he's inbad shape."