Instinctively, he reached for the rifle. Then, recognizing Mr. Hatfield, he merely allowed his hand to rest on the b.u.t.t. His att.i.tude however, was wary.

"How are you, Jack?" the Cub leader greeted him. "A nice little camp you have here. Did you shoot the rabbit yourself?"

"Who else?" Jack retorted a trifle defiantly.

"You did a good job of cleaning it too," the Cub leader praised him. "I can see you're handy and know how to get along."

Jack made no reply. Guardedly he eyed the Cubs, who gradually had circled in around the camp fire.

"No biscuits?" demanded Red, scanning every inch of the camp.

"I never learned how to bake 'em," Jack admitted, relaxing a bit. "You have to have an oven for that."

"A reflector oven isn't hard to make," Mr. Hatfield said. "Any of the Cubs could teach you."

"They could?" Jack gazed at the boys with new respect. "I'd sure like to learn."

"You come with us on our next hike, and we'll show you," Mr. Hatfield promised.

"But I'm not a Cub."

"That makes no difference. Glad to have you." Jack's face lighted up, and then the old look of frustration returned.

"Thanks," he said, "but I can't make it. The Widow wouldn't let me go.

She keeps me chop, chop, chopping wood night and day."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself now," Brad remarked significantly.

Jack stirred the coals and replied: "Oh, I ran off. She'll switch me when I get back. It only tickles though."

Mr. Hatfield squatted by the fire and said in a friendly way: "How are things working out, Jack? You don't much like it at the Widow's place?"

"Oh, she's okay, I guess," the boy admitted grudgingly.

"She makes you work too hard?"

"I have to chop a lot of wood. I hate that. The other work isn't so bad."

"Mrs. Jones doesn't have much money or any man to help her about the place. Jack, she really needs you."

"I guess so," the boy admitted uncomfortably. "I've been trying to please her. It's just-well, I can't stand being cooped up in the house all the time. Every so often I have to get away or I'll pop wide open!"

"I understand," the Cub leader said. "Had that feeling myself when I was a boy. I never gave way to the urge too much, and I made a point never to take anything that didn't belong to me."

Jack rocked back on his heels, regarding the Cub leader with hostility.

"What do you mean by that crack?"

"Didn't you swipe our biscuits?" Red demanded before Mr. Hatfield could speak.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Someone took them from our camp," Red went on, ignoring Mr. Hatfield's warning glance. "If you didn't swipe 'em-"

"Well, I didn't and you better not accuse me! I've been right here for the last forty minutes."

"You're using Mrs. Jones' rifle!" Red accused, refusing to be checked.

"Why not? She never touched it. A rifle was meant to be used not left to rust."

"Mrs. Jones thinks you've been taking things from her."

"That's a black lie!"

"Cord wood for instance."

"What would I steal wood for, when I have to keep chopping more to replace it?" Jack shouted furiously. "Use your head, or haven't you got one?"

At this point, Mr. Hatfield warned Red to drop the argument.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled.

Jack however, was not willing to allow the matter to pa.s.s.

"What else did Mrs. Jones say I took?" he demanded.

"I don't recall that she accused you," Mr. Hatfield answered. "She merely was disturbed because of the wood and a few other trifles."

"Someone else had been taking that wood. What else did she say was missing?"

"A black dress," Dan answered. "One with jet b.u.t.tons."

"Of course we don't think you'd have any use for a woman's dress," Dan went on, watching the boy intently.

Jack made no reply. After a long while, he said:

"I didn't take that dress. If I were a mind to though, I could tell you something about it!"

"Suppose you do just that," Mr. Hatfield encouraged him.

Jack smiled in a superior, insolent way. The wave of friendliness which he briefly had displayed, now was entirely gone. Once more he seemed the arrogant, defiant runaway.

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Jack. We have a particular reason for being interested in what became of that black silk dress."

"You've accused me of being a thief."

"No, Jack. The Cubs were a bit abrupt perhaps. They believe in being square and honest. Naturally it made them sore to think you might have taken the biscuits."