Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face.

by Mildred A. Wirt.

CHAPTER I

A MISSING CUB

Firelight splashed the eager faces of six Cub Scouts, who squatted Indian fashion around the glowing log.

Sam Hatfield, cubmaster of Den 2 at Webster City, raised his hand in cheery greeting.

"How!"

"How!" responded the Cubs. Expectantly, they waited for their chief to speak.

On this particular night, the den meeting was being held on a river slope directly behind the home of Burton Holloway, one of the Den Dads.

As all the Cubs knew, the session was no ordinary week-end ceremonial.

For Mr. Hatfield had promised that an important announcement would be forthcoming.

"Everyone here?" The cubmaster's gaze roved from one Cub to another as he started to call the roll. "Brad Wilber!"

"Present," drawled the Den Chief.

Brad was nearly 14, a Boy Scout and an acknowledged leader among the younger Cubs. Mr. Hatfield depended a great deal upon the dark-haired, serious youngster, having found him to be even-tempered and quick of wit.

"Dan Carter!" the cubmaster resumed the roll call.

"Here," answered Dan with a friendly grin. He was a sandy-haired boy, clever in school and a fine athlete. All the Cubs liked him.

Next Mr. Hatfield called the name of his own son, Fred, who replied with a loud "How! Me heap big Injun!"

The roll call also included Mack Tibbets, Chips Davis and Midge Holloway, a son of the Den Dad. But when Red Suell's name was spoken, he did not respond.

"Where's Red?" Mr. Hatfield inquired. In the flickering firelight he could not see the boys' faces distinctly. "Not here yet?"

"Late again," drawled Chips. "You know Red. He never can make a meeting on time."

"I thought he'd be here tonight," said Brad. "He had something special on his mind. Fact is, I'm a little bothered about it-"

"Someone's coming down the hill now," cut in Dan. He directed attention toward a shadowy, hurrying figure.

A moment later, Red, who had acquired the nickname because of his fiery hair, breathlessly joined the group. He carried a bulky object concealed in a large paper bag.

"Time you're getting here!" Chips scolded him. "What you got in that sack?"

"Oh, nothing." Red grinned mysteriously.

Carefully holding together the top edges of the bag so that none of the Cubs could see what it held, he took his place in the circle.

Mr. Hatfield stirred the log with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks.

"I'm about to spin a few Indian stories," he remarked. "But first, now that we're all here, I'll tell you about next month's den project. Ever hear of the Navajos?"

"Sure!" chirped Chips, proud of his knowledge. "Blankets! We've got some at home."

The other Cubs hooted in derision.

"The Navajos are Indians," corrected Dan. "They live on a large New Mexico reservation."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Hatfield. "The Navajos are very skillful at weaving blankets and making silver ornaments, so Chips wasn't too far off."

"What do the Navajos have to do with our project?" asked Mack Tibbets curiously.

"A lot, I hope. I thought we might adopt a Navajo Pack."

"Do the Navajos have Cub Scout organizations?" demanded Red. In his surprise, he nearly dropped the paper bag which he had kept so carefully tucked under his arm.

"Why should we adopt an Indian Pack?" questioned Midge Holloway.

"Because the Navajo youngsters need our help," Mr. Hatfield explained.

"The government has aided the Indians by setting up schools and providing many necessities. But while some of the Navajos are well off, others are very poor, depending almost entirely upon sheep raising for a living.

Their dwellings are _hogans_ or houses built of sticks, rock and mud. Few have adequate clothing or shoes."

"What do the Navajo Cubs need?" asked Brad.

"All sorts of things. Books, uniforms, craft articles and especially money."

Mr. Hatfield went on to say that if the Cubs decided to adopt a Navajo Pack, cash might be raised by various projects, including an Indian pow-wow.

"Say, that sounds swell to me!" approved Dan instantly. "I'm for it!"

"Me too," chimed in Midge Holloway.

All the other Cubs likewise voted in favor of the project.

The matter decided, Mr. Hatfield related several Indian stories. As the fire burned lower, the boys huddled close together, for a chill had come upon the summer night.

Unintentionally, Dan brushed against Red's mysterious paper bag. He could tell by the feel that it held something soft and warm.

"What are you hiding, Red?" he demanded. "You keep clutching that sack as if you're hanging onto a live rabbit. What's in it?"

"A bear maybe," grinned Red. "Wait and see!"

Remarking upon the darkness of the woods, he stared fixedly toward the tall pine trees. His intensity began to make the other Cubs feel a trifle uneasy.

"What's wrong with you anyhow, Red?" Dan asked, losing impatience.