Early Saturday afternoon found the Cub Scouts of both Den 1 and 2 hiking briskly along a deserted road leading to “The Castle.”
Immediately after the previous week’s Pack meeting at the Cave, Brad had inquired as to the ownership of the property, learning that the Webster City Savings Bank held title.
Further, he had been told that the mansion had been built twenty-two years earlier by Gorman Lubell, a millionaire who had lost his fortune in the stock market.
The unusual dwelling had been built of massive stone to resemble a miniature English castle. The interior never had been completely finished. Year after year, the Castle had stood deserted. Periodically, the bank cut the weeds and trimmed back the shrubbery, but of late even this duty had been neglected.
“Brad, you obtained permission for us to visit the property, didn’t you?” Mr. Hatfield asked as the boys trudged along.
“The bank president was out of the city,” the boy answered. “I talked to his secretary though. She said she was sure it would be all right.”
“Even if we find the grounds unsuited as a locale for our play, we can get in some archery practice,” Mr. Hatfield remarked.
To make certain that equipment would be available, Mr. Holloway, one of the Den Dads, had driven on ahead to set up a target. He had borrowed several bows for the occasion, and Ross had brought his sets.
“Ever do any shooting, Dan?” Brad asked his friend as they presently approached the bank property.
“A little, but it was more than a year ago. No chance I’ll give Ross any competition for the Robin Hood role.”
“Oh, maybe you will,” the older boy encouraged him. “You’re good at most games requiring skill.”
“Ross has had more practice than any of the Cubs.”
“I know,” Brad admitted. “He may win the role. I hope not.”
Ross, apparently sensing that he was being discussed, approached the two boys. Brad and Dan immediately fell silent.
“Plotting something?” Ross demanded suspiciously.
“Of course not,” Brad replied. Of all the Cubs in the Pack, Ross was the only one who rubbed him the wrong way.
“I heard you say something about Robin Hood,” Ross declared. “I guess you figure you’ll nail the role for someone in Den 2.”
“Don’t be stupid!” Brad exclaimed impatiently. “You heard Mr. Hatfield say the part will go to the best archer.”
“Who will be chosen through an elimination contest,” Dan added.
“I’ll win too, if the competition is fair and square!”
“Say, you give me a pain!” Brad exploded. “You know very well it will be on the level. Maybe you think you were cheated when Dan beat you in the swimming meet last summer?”
Ross flushed and shifted the archery equipment to another hand. The lost swimming meet was a sore subject with him.
Dan had defeated him soundly in a fair race. Ross remembered too that after the contest the younger boy had been kidnapped by a crook who had previously tangled with the Cubs. This adventure has been recounted in the volume entitled, “Dan Carter and the River Camp.”
As a result of his experience with water front thieves, Dan had gained considerable attention in Webster City. Ross, who liked the limelight, had rather resented the younger boy’s gain in popularity.
Hence, he was more than ever determined that Dan should not win the leading role in the Robin Hood play.
The Cubs presently arrived at the old Lubell property.
“Mr. Holloway’s here,” Dan noted, observing the familiar car parked by the roadside. “He’s set up the target too.”
Beyond the clearing which the Den Dad had selected for an archery range, rose a heavily wooded area.
“Just like Sherwood Forest in England!” Dan exclaimed. “Say, this place should be all right for our play!”
“That castle has atmosphere too,” Brad agreed, highly pleased.
The building was a large, sprawling structure of many towers and turrets. A luxurious growth of vines covered the walls and blocked off some of the windows.
“They say that building has thousands of dollars’ worth of imported marble in it,” Brad said, staring at the desolate dwelling. “It’s just a big white elephant now. A pity it never was finished.”
“Mr. Lubell ran out of money?” Dan asked.
“Yes, he lost every penny he owned and was on charity at the time of his death. The bank never was able to find a buyer.”
“Unless the property gets some care pretty soon, it will fall into complete ruin,” Dan remarked.
His attention had been drawn to a smashed window pane. He noticed also that the foundation of the house had been damaged in several places. Walls remained in excellent condition however, and also the tall chimneys.
“Say, I’ll bet that place has some dandy fire places!” he commented.
The other Cubs had gathered about and were eager to explore.
“Maybe we can find a ghost,” chuckled Red, gazing with keen interest at the castle cupolas. “Let’s see what the place looks like inside, fellows.”
“Well, I don’t know,” the Den Chief replied doubtfully. “I didn’t say anything at the bank about exploring the interior.”
“It’s easy enough to get in,” Red urged. “All one has to do is reach through one of those broken window panes and unlatch the catch. From the look of this place, plenty of folks have been in there ahead of us.”
“The bank might not like it,” Brad said, holding back.
Before the Cubs could discuss the question further, Mr. Hatfield and Burton Holloway called them together.
“I’ve been looking over the grounds,” Midge’s father declared. “This place will make an almost perfect Robin Hood setting for our movie. The castle gives just the background touch needed, and will fit in with the story.”
“A brook runs behind the castle too!” announced Fred, who had made a brief inspection tour. “The remains of a draw bridge still is there.”
“We can use it in the first scene of our play,” Dan declared enthusiastically. “The one where Robin Hood meets Little John on the narrow bridge and neither will give way to the other. They fight with cudgels until, after hours of struggle, Robin Hood topples into the water.”
“That ought to make a corking scene,” approved Midge. He added darkly, “Especially if Ross is Robin Hood.”
“I don’t see why Robin Hood should be the one to get a ducking,” Ross protested as he strung his bow ready for target practice. “Why not have Little John be the one to lose out?”
“Because it wasn’t that way,” Dan told him. “Little John proved himself a fine fighter and a good shot, so Robin Hood and his merry men allowed him to join the band.”
“Let’s elect Ross the Sheriff of Nottingham,” chuckled Chips, in jest.
“Like fun!” Ross retorted. “Just bring on your target and I’ll show you I can hit the gold band every time.”
Eager to try their skill, the Cubs lined up ready to take instruction from Mr. Holloway. With the exception of Ross, Dan and Midge, the other boys had never tried archery.
“The first thing we learn is how to face the target,” the Den Dad instructed. “Look straight ahead and extend your left arm out to the side. Heels together. Relax!”
“Kindergarten stuff,” muttered Ross impatiently.
Ignoring the boy, Mr. Holloway explained the fundamentals of the sport. He told the boys to draw the string with their first three fingers of the right hand, avoiding the use of thumb or little finger.
“When you have the arrow on the string, sight over the arrow point,” he advised. “Don’t look up until you hear the arrow hit the target. If you do, you will miss.”
Midge took his turn first. He drew the string back to his chin, closed his left eye and let the arrow fly. Ping!
It struck the target but on the lower rim. After his father had told him how to correct his aim, Chips took the bow. On the first shot he hit his left arm with the bowstring, receiving a painful bruise.
“Remember your fundamentals and that won’t occur,” Mr. Holloway said. “Elbow bent, wrist straight, shoulder low, index finger under the jawbone and the string to the center of the chin.”
Dan’s turn came next. His form was excellent despite lack of practice. Two of his arrows went in the gold and the other four in a group in the next ring.
“Not bad, Dan!” Mr. Holloway approved. “Let’s see you beat that, Ross.”
Ross confidently took his place in front of the target. With easy grace he sent an arrow winging on its way. It struck the bull’s-eye, causing the Cubs to cheer lustily.
“See, didn’t I tell you?” Ross demanded.
He shot two more arrows. Both missed the target completely.
“I’m a little out of practice,” Ross muttered. Instead of shooting the remainder of his arrows, he handed the bow to a Cubmate from Den 1.
For nearly an hour the boys practiced, some acquiring the art readily and others finding it difficult to catch on to the trick of relaxing.
“We’ll definitely assign parts next time,” Mr. Hatfield told the boys. “Off hand, I think Fred will make a good Friar Tuck and Brad could act the part of Little John.”
“Do I get to be Robin Hood?” Ross demanded.
“That will be decided later,” the Cub leader replied, a trifle annoyed that the Den 1 boy should make such an issue of the role. “We’ll need a good actor for the part.”
While some of the Cubs remained to practice archery and pose for camera shots, Dan, Brad, Midge and Ross set off to explore the castle.
Long shadows extended from the forest to give the castle a shadowy, eerie appearance.
“Gosh, the place does have a spooky look,” Brad remarked, pulling at the vines which half-covered one of the lower windows.
“Let’s climb in,” proposed Ross, gaining a foothold on one of the stone blocks.
“I don’t think we should—” Dan began, but Ross cut him short.
“Oh, the place is wide open. Why shouldn’t we go in?”
Reaching his hand through the broken window pane, he unlatched the catch. The leaded window swung back on creaking hinges.
Ross climbed in and helped the others through.
The Cubs found themselves in the central living room. One wall had been paneled but the others never had been finished. The main point of interest was a huge fireplace ornamented with imported tiles in an old English hunting scene design.
Crossing to the hearth, Dan gazed curiously up the deep chimney.
“Filled with old bird’s nests,” he reported.
Dan ran a stick part way up the chimney, knocking down some of the debris.
“Hey! Quit it,” Ross commanded. “You’re stirring up an awful dust.”
Dan’s stick had lodged between two loose bricks.
To free it, he reached up and moved the bricks slightly. Much to his astonishment, one of them pulled out.
“This old chimney is falling apart,” he said. “Either that or—”
“Or what?” Brad demanded.
Rather excited, Dan thrust his arm far up the chimney and groped about.
“Find anything?” Brad demanded eagerly.
“I’m not sure,” Dan murmured, as his fingers continued to explore. “Yes, I think that brick was set loose on purpose. Sure as shooting, I can feel a deep niche in the chimney—a hiding place!”