Dan Carter, Cub Scout, and the River Camp Page 14

  CHAPTER 14 Victory for Den 2

  At the "Y" swimming pool, Dan Carter and the Cubs lounged against thetiled wall, awaiting the signal for start of the long-awaited Pack meet.

  The gallery was jammed with spectators, for parents and friends of bothteams had turned out in large numbers to witness this decisive contest ofthe season. A large silver cup, to be awarded the winning Den, stood on atable in plain view of the swimmers.

  "Gosh, I sure hope we can win that beautiful baby," Midge said, gazinglongingly at the trophy. "Dan, we're depending on you to do your stuff!"

  "I'll sure try," Dan replied, shivering in his wet suit. "But you knowRoss! He's jet propelled. Furthermore, he hasn't forgotten how we wonthat last meet."

  As the boys talked, Ross himself sauntered past. He paused to hitch uphis trunks and fix Dan with an amused eye.

  "It's going to be too bad for you, little shrimp," he jeered. "This time,you won't win on a fluke! In fact, you won't win. Period."

  "Don't be too sure," Midge cut in. "Take a look at the events that havebeen posted."

  "What's different about 'em?" Ross demanded suspiciously.

  "The coaches got together and substituted a 75-yard free style for the50-yard. They figure it's a better test of swimming form. In the shorterdistance, a good turn at the wall gives a fellow a big advantage."

  "No one told me about changing the distance," Ross muttered. "I'm goingto find out about this!"

  The Cubs saw him arguing vigorously with his own coach and Mr. Hatfield.The two men listened to his complaint but did not change the list ofscheduled events.

  "It's this way, Ross," Mr. Hatfield explained. "The Cubs steadily haveincreased their endurance as well as their speed. At the beginning of theseason, a 50-yard swim was a hard race for everyone concerned. Now it's abreeze. The 75-yard freestyle is a far better test of one's realability."

  "Sure, I guess so," Ross admitted, but he looked worried. Though the Den1 coach had urged him many times to practice the longer length, he nearlyalways had stopped short at the end of two turns.

  While waiting for the starting signal, Dan at the other end of the poolallowed his gaze to wander over the packed audience. In the back row nearthe door he caught a glimpse of a short little man whose sharp-featuredface gave him a start.

  "Midge, look over there!" he muttered, nudging his companion.

  "Where?"

  "He's gone now," Dan returned. "Slipped out through the door. For just aminute I thought--"

  A shrill blast from Mr. Hatfield's whistle drove the matter from his mindentirely. Scrambling to his feet, he lined up for the first event of themeet.

  In rapid order the events were run through, the back stroke, fancydiving, the 100-yard relay race, and a breast stroke event. With only oneevent remaining--the 75-yard freestyle, the score stood 20 to 16 in favorof Den 2.

  To win the meet the Cubs of Den 2 knew that Dan must defeat Ross forfirst place. But in the freestyle relay event, the Den 1 swimmer had puton a spectacular burst of speed to capture the event. The prospectslooked discouraging.

  "Just swim your own race, Dan," Mr. Holloway advised as the boy went tothe starting line.

  The swimmers crouched above their lanes awaiting the signal. Sensing thatthe race would be a close one, the audience rose to its feet.

  Mr. Hatfield's revolver cracked and the swimmers were off.

  Almost together Ross and Dan struck the water in flat, fast racing dives.From the start, the Den 1 swimmer took the lead.

  Dan heard the groans of dismay from his teammates and instinctivelyincreased the tempo of his thrashing legs. Then he told himself he couldnot hold the pace. Deliberately, he dropped back to his former rhythm.

  The race would be a gruelling one at the end. He must save a littlereserve for that final spurt!

  At the turn, Ross was nearly two body lengths ahead of Dan, his closestcompetitor. Midge and a youth who swam for Den 1 were almostneck-and-neck another three feet behind.

  After the second length, Ross slowed down a bit. Dan's arms and legs nowwere moving with the easy precision of well-oiled machinery. Going intothe final turn, the boy suddenly realized that for the first time in therace, he was a foot ahead!

  The knowledge shocked him into losing the smooth rhythm of his stroke.Ross, desperate to regain the lead, spurted ahead once more.

  "Come on, Dan!" his teammates pleaded. "Come on!"

  Across the pool, the Cubs of Den 1 were urging Ross to give his all. Bothboys put on a final thrust of speed.

  Dan's arms ached with fatigue but his breath was good. _Fight, fight,fight!_ The words pounded through his brain and conveyed themselves tohis thrashing legs. His driving arms churned the water to foam as he putforth a supreme effort.

  The finish line was just ahead. As Dan surged for it with a feel of powerand strength, Ross suddenly seemed to cave in. His stroke lost allrhythm, arm and leg movements became jerky.

  Dan moved steadily ahead of him, touching the wall a full length ahead.The audience burst into loud applause. Midge who came in third, afterRoss, also was given a big hand.

  "Well, you did it, boy!" Brad declared, clapping Dan on the back. "Lookat that scoreboard!"

  Mr. Hatfield was writing up the chalk figures--26 to 19 in favor of Den2.

  "We've won the silver cup!" Chips Davis added, joining in thecongratulations. "And not on any fluke either!"

  His breath recovered, Ross came around to offer Dan his hand.

  "You swam a dandy race and deserved to win," he said warmly. "From nowon, I'm going in for heavy practice!"

  "Next year we'll have a real race," Dan grinned. "You gave me stiffcompetition this season."

  Following his teammates to the dressing room, the boy showered andscrambled into street clothes. Victory had brought a warm inner glow. Hefelt at peace with the world.

  The feeling, however, was short lived. In leaving the dressing room, hechanced to hear Mr. Holloway and the Den 1 coach discussing prospects ofobtaining Skeleton Island as a Scout camp.

  "The deal's definitely washed up," Midge's father told the coach. "Toobad, because the site is the best one around Webster City."

  Since the weekend when the Cubs had camped on the island, Dan had notseen Mr. Manheim or the caretaker, Jabowski. He and Brad had reported toMr. Hatfield their discovery of the old tunnel leading under the hotel.However, the Cub leader had not considered it advisable to take thematter up.

  "It's useless to speculate on what may have happened there," he told thedisappointed boys. "To impress Mr. Manheim or the police, we needevidence. Without it, we'll be wise to let matters rest as they are."

  Dan also had been discouraged to learn that Frisk Fagan, the motorboatoperator, had been released from jail on bond. Realization that the manwas at liberty gave the boy a few uneasy moments. Though he expected notrouble, he could not forget that he had been warned not to identify theman.

  As Dan removed his coat from the locker, Mack came hurrying up.

  "Say, you're wanted outside," he informed. "A man wants to talk to you."

  "Who is he, Mack?"

  "Didn't say," the other flung over his shoulder as he went on toward thedressing room. "He's waiting out in front of the building."

  Dan put on his coat and started for the street. By this time the mainpart of the "Y" building was nearly deserted of visitors.

  As he stepped out onto a stone porch giving exit to the street, a littleman in an overcoat pulled high around his neck emerged from the shadows.Dan recoiled.

  The man was Paper Bag Eddie.

  "Hello, Dan," the other said in his purring voice. "Want to take a littleride with me?"

  Dan started to retreat into the building, but Eddie blocked the doorway.The dark street was deserted except for a taxi cab.

  "Don't let out a peep or make a false move," the man said, tapping thelittle paper bag he carried. "You're coming with me."

  Taking a firm grasp upo
n Dan's arm, he shoved him toward the waiting taxicab.

  The boy braced his feet and started to resist. But as he opened his mouthto let out a yell for help, Eddie jammed the paper bag into his ribs. Hefelt the pressure of a revolver press against his flesh.

  "Don't yip, or I'll let you have it," the little man said in his pleasantvoice. "Just get in that taxi."

  Dan obeyed. As he slumped in the rear seat, he took a quick glance at thedriver. Though the face was unfamiliar, he thought the man resembled oneof the persons he had seen on the night Mr. Holloway's motorboat had beenstruck. It was an ugly face, cold and unfriendly. He realized with asinking heart that any appeal to the driver for help would be a waste ofbreath.

  Eddie sat close beside Dan, his stubby legs stretched out in front ofhim.

  "We have a little score to settle, Dan," the man said, eyeing the boynarrowly. "Remember?"

  The words sent an icy chill chasing down Dan's spine. Eddie hadn'tforgotten his identification of Frisk Fagan. And this was the payoff!

  "Where are you taking me?" he demanded.

  Eddie merely smiled and settled back in the cab. The taxi driver, withoutan order, shifted gears and they sped away.

  Along the brightly lighted street, Dan saw many persons he knew walkinghome from the swimming meet. But he was helpless to signal them or to letanyone know of his plight.

  At the next corner, the taxi turned, seeking a narrow, dark street.Gradually it came to Dan that he was being driven to the waterfront. Hisuneasiness increased.

  The cab presently pulled up not far from a familiar group of warehouses.Eddie made no move to leave the taxi. Instead, he seemed to be waitingfor someone.

  Within five minutes, a tapping sound was heard along the dark street.Craning his neck, Dan saw the blindman and his dog approaching the cab.

  The boy's heart leaped with hope. If only he could get word to the man,or in some manner make known his predicament!

  But a moment later Dan's hopes nose-dived. The blindman came directly tothe cab. He greeted Eddie as an old friend.

  "Sorry to be late," he apologized. "You got the kid, I see."

  "Sure," Eddie replied, lowering the cab window. "Everything set?"

  "The shipment's in, settin' out on Dock 23 covered with canvas. All wegotta do is distract the watchman while the sawing goes on."

  As he spoke, the blindman removed his dark glasses. His eyes as theycoldly appraised Dan looked perfectly normal. With a shock the boyrealized that Joe Matt never had been blind.

  "He's been a spotter for the gang of river pirates!" Dan thought. "Allthe time he's kept watch of shipments to learn when valuable ones gothrough! Hank foolishly told him everything!"

  Belatedly, it occurred to him that this was the night of the 24th. Theblindman had learned long ago that a valuable shipment of furs or othermerchandise was to be sent through on this day.

  As Dan figured it out, the boy Jacques undoubtedly had been assigned torelay the information to a member of the gang. The coded message musthave referred to the shipment and was in effect "Coming through on the24th!" But something had gone awry. Either Jacques had rebelled or hadmet with an accident as he crossed the river.

  "That's why the boy wouldn't talk," he thought. "He didn't dare. He wasafraid of what the gang would do to him."

  Dan's meditation was cut short by a poke in the ribs from Paper BagEddie.

  "Get out!" the man ordered. "If you do exactly as you're told, you won'tbe hurt. But don't try any monkey business."

  Dan was forced to walk along the dock ahead of the blindman and his dog.Eddie loitered far behind.

  "Now get this," Joe Matt said. "One false move and Rudy will tear you toshreds. You'll do exactly as I say. These are your orders: You're to talkto Hank and keep him occupied. I don't care what you say, just so youhold his attention. If you fail--"

  "So I'm to be a decoy?"

  "You're to throw him off his guard. Just keep him away from the dockwhile our work goes on."

  "Work! You're stealing another shipment of furs!"

  "Right, my boy. From under Hank's very nose too!" The blindman paused inthe shadow of the warehouse. "See the stupid fool!"

  The warehouseman nervously paced back and forth along the dock.Frequently he paused to glance at a pile of boxes which had been coveredby a heavy canvas.

  "How do you aim to get the furs?" Dan whispered. "If you make any falsemove, Hank will blow his whistle and the river police will be here in aflash."

  "Don't you worry yourself, my boy. Just do as you're told and don't askquestions."

  The blindman gave Dan a shove, following a pace behind. At sound of histapping cane, the warehouseman whirled around.

  "Oh, it's you," he said in relief. "I'm a mite jumpy tonight. Guarding avaluable cargo. She's due to be picked up in another hour. It sure willbe a load off my mind."

  "Hank, I got a sliver in my hand a minute ago," the blindman said in ahalf-whine intended to arouse sympathy. "Will you help me get it out?"

  "Can't see a thing out here."

  "Come inside where there's a good light."

  The warehouseman hesitated. "I shouldn't leave the dock--"

  "Oh, it will only take a minute. You can watch the canvas from thedoorway. Dan here can help you keep an eye on it."

  "My eyesight isn't very good at night," Dan said significantly.

  The blindman's arm pressed hard into his flesh.

  "Lead me inside, Dan," the man ordered. "That's a good boy. You're a realhelp to a poor soul without any eyes."

  The three entered the warehouse where they switched on a bright electriclight. Carefully he examined the blindman's hand.

  "It's only a little sliver," he said. "Hardly worth bothering about.Here, I'll get it out in a jiffy."

  With his knife he removed the tiny piece of wood.

  Dan, who stood where he could see the canvas which covered the crate offurs, thought he could hear the indistinct sound of someone sawing wood.But he could see no one.

  Then the explanation dawned upon him! Hours before, a boat had slipped inbeneath the dock, lying in wait for this moment. Now the river piratesboldly were carving through the dock with steel braces, bits and saws!

  Undoubtedly the blindman himself had given the go-ahead signal by tappingwith his cane.

  "Those crooks will have the box through the hole and into their boatbefore Hank catches on!" he thought.

  Dan sidled toward the door. Rudy growled and barred his way.

  Outside the warehouse, Eddie lounged against a wall, smoking a cigarette.All escape was cut off. Even if he could let Hank know what washappening, Dan knew it was too late to prevent the theft.

  "Well, Dan, how did you do in the swimming meet tonight?" Hank asked,making conversation. "Give us a full account."

  "We won," Dan answered shortly.

  Again he felt Matt's hard pressure on his arm. Knowing that he wasexpected to keep the warehouseman interested, he grudgingly added a fewdetails.

  From where the boy stood, he could see the high mound of canvas. Suddenlyit deflated like a pricked balloon.

  The river pirates had succeeded in lowering the loot through the dockhole into their boat! In another moment they would speed away unchecked.

  The sight goaded Dan beyond thought of personal risk.

  "Quick, Hank!" he shouted. "They're stealing the furs!"

  The watchman whirled toward the door, only to have Joe Matt's cane crashdown on his head. Hank staggered back, slowly collapsing on the floor.

  When Dan would have leaped to the man's assistance, the dog barred hisway.

  Joe Matt seized the boy by the arm, pushing him roughly out the door. Danresisted with all his strength. But he was powerless in the grasp of theother.

  The motorboat, loaded with the boxes and crates of furs, had emerged frombeneath the dock. As it coasted alongside, the blindman shoved Dan aheadof him and down into the craft.

  Frisk Fagan crouched at the steering wheel. Jabowski, his face wel
lhidden beneath a cap, huddled beside one of the boxes which had beenshoved half way into the cabin. Jacques sat slumped over in the stern ofthe boat.

  "Hey! What's the idea?" Frisk Fagan growled. "We can't take that kidalong. We're overloaded now."

  "We got to take him along," Joe Matt answered. "If we don't, he'll spilleverything to the cops. Git going!"

  Leaping down into the boat, the man bound Dan's legs and wrists with astout piece of cord.

  "Better gag him too," Fagan advised. "The river is swarming with cops.Three boats out watching the shore. We can't risk having him yip at thewrong minute."

  "I'll fix him right," Joe muttered. He pulled the thongs tighter aboutthe boy's wrists and stuffed a handkerchief into his mouth.

  The motorboat sped away from the dock, nosing directly toward SkeletonIsland.

  Scarcely was the craft well out from shore than those aboard heard theshrill blast of a police whistle. Dan's heart leaped with hope.

  "We've been seen!" Joe Matt muttered. "Either that, or Hank has revivedand given the alarm! Faster, Frisk!"

  "I'm pushin' her as hard as I can."

  "A police boat is putting out from shore now," Joe Matt informed,scanning the river. "Probably armed with a 45-calibre submachine gun!"

  "Keep cool," Frisk advised. "We have a head start. We'll make the islandokay and can hide the boat in the tunnel."

  "And if it's found there I'll take the rap," Jabowski whined. "I wishyou'd never mixed me up in this dirty mess. And you dragged Jacques inagainst his will--"

  "Shut up!" Frisk said harshly. "We'll get out of this. But if we don't,we'll all take the rap together."

  "Throw the cargo overboard," Jabowski pleaded. "Then the cops won't findany evidence even if they do catch up with us."

  He arose and reached for one of the smaller boxes. Joe Matt shoved himback.

  "Lay off!" he ordered. "We went to plenty of risk to carry out this jobtonight. We ain't pitching any $10,000 haul just because a copper blows alittle tin whistle!"

  By this time, a powerfully motored police boat had taken up the pursuit.Jabowski watched anxiously as its brilliant searchlight swept the water.

  "She's coming up fast!" he exclaimed. "They'll soon be within firingdistance."

  "Keep your shirt on," Frisk advised, hunching lower over the steeringwheel. "The cops don't know for sure we got the stuff. They may take theboat for Manheim's just as we figured. While they're wondering whetherthey dare risk taking a shot, we'll make the island."

  "I dunno," Jabowski said fearfully. "They're gaining."

  "We'll make the island," Frisk repeated with more confidence. "The DawsonStreet bridge is just ahead. Once past there, we'll be hidden from view.We'll slip behind the island into the tunnel. You left Manheim's boattied to the wharf?"

  "Sure, just as you ordered."

  "Good. If the cops come by and check they'll find the motor cold. You canclaim you haven't been away from the island all night."

  "They'll question me. I'm not willing to take the rap while the rest ofyou get away."

  "The cops can't prove a thing once we make the tunnel," Fagan growled."This is our last haul in this area. You'll get your share and we pullout to a safer spot."

  "We pull out all right," Jabowski muttered. "After tonight I'm through. Inever should have dragged poor Jacques into this mess--he tried to runaway--"

  The caretaker glanced briefly at his nephew, huddled in the stern of theboat. Jacques gave no sign he had heard.

  "If the cops overtake us--" Jabowski whined.

  "Oh, pipe down," Frisk said irritably. "We're coming to the bridge now.We're safe!"

  Lying quite helpless on the deck of the speeding motorboat, Dan suddenlysaw Jacques come to life.

  With no warning whatsoever, the boy sprang to his feet. Savagely, hehurled himself upon the surprised Frisk Fagan, wresting the steeringwheel from him.

  "Hey, have you gone crazy?" Frisk shouted.

  With both hands he gave the boy a mighty shove which sent him reelingbackwards over the gunwale.

  Out of control, the motorboat crashed with terrific impact into thebridge pier.