CHAPTER 13 Hot Biscuits

“Gosh, a thief!” cried Brad, the first to recover from shock. “He’s been rifling Mr. Merrimac’s place!”

With one accord, he and Dan gave chase to the intruder.

From the start it was a losing race. The man already had put a considerable distance between himself and the Merrimac house.

Long-legged and surprisingly agile for his weight, he continued to gain on Dan and Brad.

Finally, he slipped between two buildings and was completely lost. Winded, the boys halted to consider what next to do.

“Not a chance to catch him now,” Brad puffed. “Let’s call the police, and then go back to Merrimac’s place. He may have slugged that old man.”

“Brad, didn’t you think that fellow looked like the tramp we saw out near the marsh?”

“Well, he had the same general build, Dan. I didn’t see his face.”

“Neither did I. He purposely kept his hat pulled low over his eyes. Heck, just our luck to let him get away! For all we know, he might even be the one who stole the money box.”

“That’s possible,” Brad agreed. “Our best bet is to put police on his trail. If we can furnish a good description, they may be able to pick him up.”

Circling the block to make certain the intruder had not emerged elsewhere in the vicinity, the boys sought a policeman. Unable to find one in the neighborhood, they telephoned their report to the Central station.

“Well, that’s done,” Brad said in relief. “Now let’s hustle back to Merrimac’s place and find out if the old man’s been hurt. I’ve got a mighty uneasy feeling.”

Upon arriving at the Merrimac home a few minutes later, the boys saw that the kitchen window remained wide open.

“Raise me up and I’ll look in,” Dan proposed.

Brad lifted him so that he could grab the sill and partly support his own weight.

“See anything?”

“There’s no one on the floor. But I can only see the kitchen. Think I should crawl on in?”

Brad was given no opportunity to decide, for just then a hand was laid heavily upon his shoulder.

Startled, he whirled around so suddenly, that his supporting shoulder deprived Dan of a substantial base. The younger boy lost his balance and slipped to the ground.

“What’s going on here? Trying to break in, eh?”

Dan and Brad found themselves confronted by Atwood Merrimac. A sack of groceries clutched in one hand, he held Brad with the other as he gazed sternly at the two Cubs.

“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Merrimac,” Brad murmured in relief. “We’re glad to see you’re all right.”

“I can imagine you’re glad to see me! Sort of caught you in the act, didn’t I?”

Brad and Dan were aghast.

“You don’t think—you can’t think we were trying to break in!” the latter gasped.

“Unless appearances are deceitful, you gave a first class imitation of it, my lad! How did that window get open?”

In their anxiety to clear themselves, both boys talked at once.

Mr. Merrimac’s wrinkled face softened as he listened.

“So you thought I might have been laid out,” he declared in satisfaction. “I didn’t know anyone had that much interest in my welfare!”

Then as the full implication of the open window came to him, he added anxiously:

“This makes the second time my house has been entered! I wonder what’s missing this time?”

Handing the sack of groceries to Brad, the elderly man unlocked the kitchen door.

“Come in, come in,” he invited, as the boys hesitated. “We’ll see what’s what.”

Nothing appeared to have been disturbed in the kitchen. The room however, was in a frightful state of disorder. Mr. Merrimac had not washed the breakfast dishes, and the remains of a meager lunch remained on the white porcelain table.

“I haven’t had time to clean up yet today,” he apologized. “Living alone makes one fall into careless habits.”

With the boys close at his heels, Mr. Merrimac went from room to room. In none was there any evidence that anything had been taken.

“Everything is exactly as I left it a half hour ago when I went to the grocery store,” Mr. Merrimac said in a puzzled tone. “You’re sure you saw that fellow crawling out of the window?”

“We not only saw him, we chased him down the alley,” Dan said earnestly. “You believe us, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m not doubting your word. Only it seems strange. Twice in a week my house has been entered. This time you must have driven the thief off.”

“That’s probably what happened,” Brad agreed. “I certainly rang the doorbell hard.”

“When your place was entered that other time—you really lost money?” Dan asked hesitatingly.

“Certainly, I did. More than two thousand dollars. I kept it in a tin box in a drawer of the dining room buffet.”

Brad and Dan were convinced that the money they had found in the church must belong to Mr. Merrimac rather than to the other claimants. But if such were the case, how could the box ever have been transferred to the church basement? And what had become of it since then?

“You may be receiving a call from the police any minute,” Dan warned the old man. “We called them and reported the thief.”

“Drat it, what did you do that for?” Mr. Merrimac exploded. “Haven’t I enough trouble without being pestered by officers who’ll ask me a hundred questions.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan apologized. “We didn’t know that nothing had been taken. We weren’t even sure that you might not have been slugged.”

“There! I shouldn’t have been so testy,” Mr. Merrimac said. “You did the right thing.”

Dan and Brad decided that nothing could be gained at the moment by speaking to the old man about the church building pledge. It would be far wiser, they thought, to bring up the matter at another time.

“Come back whenever you feel like it,” Mr. Merrimac invited the Cubs as he escorted them to the front door. “I’m always glad to see you.”

“Why, thanks, Mr. Merrimac,” Dan returned, startled by the elderly man’s cordiality.

“Later on, we’ll talk about the church building fund,” Mr. Merrimac added, apparently guessing why the boys had come. “Losing all that money upset me. If I get it back, I’ll not forget you.”

With this promise, Dan and Brad had to content themselves.

All week the Cubs worked on their armor and made preparation for the scheduled Round Table gathering. So enthusiastic were all the Cubs, that it had been decided, not only Den 2, but the entire Pack comprised of three Webster City dens, would take part.

Nearly every morning before school, Dan was up early making articles which could be used at the grand knighting ceremony.

“I’m glad to see you painting and making designs,” his mother praised his work. “I wish though, you’d conduct your creative experiments outdoors. Fresh paint doesn’t go well with the pattern of the kitchen linoleum!”

Dan took the hint and used the back porch for his work.

One morning while the dew was still heavy on the ground, he was painting a triangular banner to hang on the back of a ceremonial chair. Dan brushed on two red diamonds and then experimented with a few bright blue “X” marks sprinkled at random over the surface.

“Hard at work?” inquired a friendly voice.

Dan glanced up to see the milkman looking over his shoulder. He had not heard the wagon drive up.

“Sure,” Dan grinned, moving aside so the man could reach the milk box at the doorstep. “I’m getting ready for the big Cub Scout knighting ceremony we’re to have at the church.”

“The Cubs really do a lot of interesting things,” replied the milkman. He slipped two bottles into the box and gathered up the empties. “I read the other day how the Cubs found some money—say, weren’t you the one who turned up that tin box?”

“Guilty,” agreed Dan. “I almost wish I hadn’t found it too! So many persons have put in a claim. Then to make matters worse, the box disappeared again.”

“I read about that too. Some neighbors of Mr. Hatfield told me the police gave him a pretty rough going over.”

“They questioned him, the same as they did me,” Dan replied indignantly. “But that’s routine. He doesn’t know what became of the money. Someone swiped it from his house.”

“When was the box supposed to have disappeared?”

“No one knows. We took it there the night it was found in the church. Then the next morning when the police came, Mr. Hatfield couldn’t find it.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering if I should report this,” the milkman said thoughtfully.

“Report what?”

“I didn’t think anything about it until after I’d read about the box disappearing, Dan. Then I began to wonder. I was delivering milk to the house across the street from the Hatfield place. It must have been about six o’clock.”

“What did you see?” Dan asked impatiently.

“A woman came out of the cellar exit. She seemed to be quite an old lady in a black dress and a shawl of the same color. I couldn’t see her face.”

“Mrs. Hatfield never dresses like that. She has modern clothes.”

“The woman had a bundle under her arm. The object, whatever it was, had been wrapped in a newspaper.”

“What day was this?”

“I don’t remember the date. It was the same morning Mr. Hatfield reported he lost the money. I’d have told him about it, only it didn’t register on me until yesterday that there might be any connection.”

“So far as I know no one lives at the Hatfield house except Sam, his wife, and Fred,” Dan said, deeply puzzled. “Who could the old lady have been?”

“It was no one I knew. She kept the shawl over her head, either to hide her face or protect it from the cold air.”

“Which way did she go?” Dan asked.

“I didn’t notice. As I say, at the time I thought nothing about seeing her.”

“I think Mr. Hatfield should know about this, and maybe the police,” said Dan. “So far, the only clue found is a black jet button. Apparently, it came from a woman’s dress. But how could a woman have known about the box?”

The milkman did not try to answer. Already late on his route, he started toward his wagon.

“I won’t get a chance to talk to Mr. Hatfield until late tonight,” he called over his shoulder. “If you think what I told you means anything, Dan, let him know for me.”

“I’ll do it right away,” the boy promised.

Even before the milk wagon was out of sight, he had gathered up his materials.

“Mom, how about rushing breakfast?” he asked, carrying both the milk and his work into the kitchen. “I want to see Mr. Hatfield before I go to school.”

“I’ll set the food right on,” his mother promised.

Dan ate on the fly. “Don’t look for me after school tonight,” he advised as he banged out the door. “The Cubs are having a cook-out.”

At the Hatfield home, Dan found the Cub leader, his wife, and Fred eating their own breakfast.

“Have a roll and some chocolate with us,” Mrs. Hatfield invited.

“I’ve had my breakfast,” Dan replied, eyeing the sugary hot roll with a greedy eye.

“Oh, a growing boy always can eat a little more,” Mrs. Hatfield laughed, offering him a chair. “Do have something with us, Dan.”

Thus urged, the boy slid into the seat by the window. As he sipped hot chocolate, he told Mr. Hatfield what the milkman had reported.

“An elderly woman in black!” Mrs. Hatfield exclaimed. “I can’t imagine!”

“You’ve had no cleaning woman?” asked Dan.

“Not in weeks, Dan. And no visitors at such an early hour of the morning.”

“I locked all the doors that night we brought the box here,” Mr. Hatfield said slowly.

“The one opening into the cellar?” his wife asked him.

“Well—I’m not sure.”

“Which means you didn’t,” Mrs. Hatfield said. “Oh, Sam, you were careless.”

“I’m afraid so,” the Cub leader admitted. “After all the preaching I’ve done to the Cubs too.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dan said loyally. “Until lately, it’s never been necessary to lock a house up tight to keep one’s belongings safe.”

“This always has been a good neighborhood,” Mr. Hatfield agreed. “That fact gave me a false sense of security, I’m afraid.”

“If the milkman saw a woman leaving the house, that’s obviously where the money box went,” Mrs. Hatfield declared, refilling Dan’s cup with chocolate. “It explains too why the police found a jet button near where the box had been hidden.”

“But who could the woman have been?” Mr. Hatfield murmured. “So far as we know, the only person besides the Cubs who knew about the box was that man caught peeping into the church.”

“He must have told others,” Mrs. Hatfield reasoned. “We can be fairly certain of that because so many claims were put in for the money.”

“Learning about this woman convinces me of one thing,” said Mr. Hatfield. “I’m positive none of the Cubs told about the box. The leak came from another source.”

“Will you tell police?” Dan questioned.

“Yes, Dan. This clue may be the most important one yet. I’ve begun to think though, that the money never will be recovered. In that case, if the rightful claimant can prove his assertion, I’ll make good the loss.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, Mr. Hatfield,” Dan protested.

“I assumed responsibility for the money, Dan. Seemingly it was lost through my carelessness. I couldn’t face the Cubs if I didn’t make good.”

Dan said no more. He knew that Mr. Hatfield, being a man of honor, would keep his word. However, he realized also that the Hatfields were only moderately well fixed and could not afford to lose so much of their savings.

“Now don’t worry about it, Dan,” Mr. Hatfield said as they all arose from the breakfast table. “You’re taking this matter entirely too seriously. Everything will come out in the wash.”

“If the money isn’t found, we’ll give up that new car we had intended to buy,” declared Mrs. Hatfield. “Expensive automobiles are an unnecessary luxury.”

Dan looked so troubled that Mr. Hatfield, to take his mind off the money box, said quickly:

“All set for the cook-out tonight?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Remind all the Cubs to meet here at my house right after school. Now you and Fred had better get along to school, or you’ll be late.”

Dan thanked the Hatfields for the breakfast, and gathering up his books, went off with Fred.

Later, after school had been dismissed for the day, all the Cubs met at Mr. Hatfield’s home for the hike and cook-out.

No more was said about the missing tin box, for the Cub leader felt that the matter had been too much discussed. He preferred to have the boys center thoughts on the Knight Crusade and their own activities.

Nevertheless, Dan fell into step with Brad as they set off for the marsh area, again bringing up the recent incident at Mr. Merrimac’s home. So far as either boy knew, police had not been able to catch the man who had fled from the dwelling.

“Brad, do you suppose there could be any connection between that thief and the woman who took the tin box?” Dan speculated.

“Search me,” Brad returned, shifting his knapsack to the other shoulder. “Let’s forget the money for tonight and just have fun. Mr. Hatfield’s worried enough without us always reminding him of it.”

“You’re right,” Dan agreed, properly set down. “Guess I have had it on my mind a lot lately.”

The boys hiked to an old mill of historical interest. After spending a while there, they back-tracked to the marshland area.

“I wonder if that old tramp is still camped out in the new house?” Dan speculated as they passed the construction site.

Mr. Hatfield heard the remark.

“I can answer that one,” he informed the group. “I talked to Mr. Keeler, the contractor. He checked and found you boys were right.”

“Then the man was a tramp?” Brad asked.

“Yes, he had managed to get in through a cellar window, and then had unlocked the door from inside. Until he was caught, he enjoyed quite a comfortable existence.”

“Arrested?” Brad questioned.

“No, he slipped away before Mr. Keeler could call police. I understand no damage was done to the property. He easily could have set the place on fire though.”

“Say, when do we eat?” demanded Midge, impatiently. “The sun’s getting low.”

“We can stop anywhere,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Look for a suitable place.”

“How about the one we used last time?” suggested Chips. “It will save us clearing the ground.”

The other Cubs shared Chip’s impatience, so a little farther on, a halt was called. While Brad and Dan built a fire, Mr. Hatfield set up a reflector oven which he had made from a square five-gallon oil can.

“Pretty fancy, aren’t we?” Red said admiringly. “What are we eating?”

“Biscuits, fried eggs and bacon. How does it sound?”

“Swell!” Red answered, smacking his lips. “Just lead me to it.”

“Lead you to it, like fun!” snorted Brad. “You’re gonna help stir up the biscuits, not have ’em served to you golden brown on a tin plate!”

“Me? Make biscuits? I don’t know how.”

“You can learn,” the Den Chief assured him. “Nothing to it when you use biscuit mix. You just add water and stir.”

While the other Cubs gathered wood, he showed Red how to mix the biscuits and drop them evenly on a metal sheet.

“Each Cub can cook his own bacon and eggs,” Brad said, producing a sheet of tinfoil. “Shape ’em into little pans, and fry the bacon just enough to make a little grease. Then drop in the eggs. You can use the crinkled foil for a plate too, and not have to wash a dish.”

“What a brain! What a brain!” This praise came from Midge, who above everything else hated to wash dishes.

Soon the wood had burned down to coals. As the reflector oven heated up, Mr. Hatfield tested it, and told Red he could put in the biscuits.

“It won’t be long now, boys,” he said. “While we’re waiting for the biscuits to bake, I wish a couple of you would go for some more water. Try that first house down the road.”

Rather than stand around, all the boys except Red took their canteens and trudged off. The latter remained with Mr. Hatfield to keep an eye on the biscuits.

“They’re rising just right,” the Cub leader said, presently peeking into the oven. “Another five minutes and they’ll be golden brown.”

“They sure smell good,” Red declared, sniffing the air. “I could eat a dozen of ’em myself.”

“We only allowed three for each Cub,” Mr. Hatfield laughed. “The fire’s burning out though. We need more wood.”

The Cubs had not gathered enough. So after taking another glance at the biscuits to be certain they would not burn, Mr. Hatfield and Red set off together to find a few sticks.

Suitable wood was not to be found close to the camp. Already the Cubs had gathered this. Compelled to seek farther away, the Cub leader and Red consumed more time than they had intended in gathering sticks.

“Let’s get back,” Mr. Hatfield advised. “If we let those biscuits burn, the boys will mob us.”

As the two returned to the campfire, they met the Cubs trotting in with their filled canteens.

“Hey!” yelled Dan. “Aren’t those biscuits done yet?”

“They should be,” Mr. Hatfield answered. “Start your eggs frying, boys, so everything will come off the fire at the same time. Brad will show you what to do.”

“How about those biscuits?” Red said anxiously. “They’ve been in the oven a long time.”

“Not too long,” replied Mr. Hatfield. “We want ’em a nice deep brown. But I’ll take a quick look.”

Eager for a peek themselves, the Cubs gathered around.

Mr. Hatfield opened the oven. A blast of heat struck the Cubs full in their faces.

“Why, what happened to ’em?” Dan demanded in astonishment. “Where are those wonderful biscuits you were bragging about?”

The oven was empty. Gone were the biscuits and likewise the metal sheet upon which they had been baked!