“It might be the kindest thing I could do. He has a good home here. I’ve checked into that.”
“Chub has a good home,” Dan agreed, “but he isn’t happy. He’s always mooning around, not talking much, but sort of wrapped in his own thoughts. He needs a Dad.”
“Your name isn’t Smith,” Brad took up the discussion. “Is it Weldon, the same as Chub’s?”
“That’s right. He doesn’t know who I am though.”
Chub’s father remained silent for some minutes. Then, apparently having made up his mind to tell the Cubs everything about himself, he said:
“Things are coming to a head fast. I expect to pull out of Webster City in a few days at the latest. I haven’t decided yet whether or not to tell Chub that I’m his father. Can I depend upon you boys to keep the secret—at least for the time being?”
“Of course,” Brad said at once.
“We wouldn’t tell Chub unless you gave us permission,” Dan added. “That wouldn’t be square.”
“My real name is Bruce Weldon,” the man disclosed. “I’ll not go too much into the past, except to say that some years ago through no fault of my own, I lost touch with Chub.”
“How?” Brad inquired.