Dan brought the wagon to a stop by the high fence.
“Down by the river,” he replied briefly. “Some of the Cubs found them near your hut.”
“Our hut? That’s a laugh! You tryin’ to say we took your old ice cream last Friday night?”
“I’m not making any accusations.”
“Well, you’d better not, that’s all I got to say!” Pat retorted. He glared at Dan, and then turned to his cronies. “Come on, guys! Let’s scram! You can’t have any privacy these days, not even in an alley.”
Dan and Brad watched in amusement as the Bay Shore boys clattered noisily off over the uneven bricks. The thrust about finding the freezers near the gang’s hut had found its mark, they felt.
“Pat looked guilty when he saw these cans,” Brad remarked. “It burns me he’d engineer such a mean trick, especially after the Cubs have been mighty nice about the gymnasium.”
Dan had been studying the make-shift basket netting fastened to the wall. A white chalk line, evidently a foul line marker had been drawn on the alley floor.
“Pat and his boys must practice here often,” he remarked.
“I’d judge so, by the looks of the wall!” In annoyance, Brad pointed to a phrase which had been chalked on the boards.