“My sand painting has been ruined! There was no wind to amount to anything either! This time I know it was done deliberately.”
“Well, for crying out loud!” Red cried indignantly. “Who is pulling this stuff? I say it’s time we get that guy and poke him in the nose!”
The Cubs and their leaders went back with Dan to view the painting. All trace of it had been obliterated.
“Even my materials are gone this time,” Dan said bitterly. “I mixed the colors so carefully too. I’m through!”
“We can’t blame you for feeling that way after twice losing your picture,” Mr. Hatfield said sympathetically. “This time we may as well forget about it, Dan. You’ve more than done your part.”
Dan remained silent for a moment, a little ashamed of his outburst.
“I suppose I could try it again,” he said after a moment. “Time’s short though. And there’s no assurance that the sand painting wouldn’t be ruined a third time.”
“Someone’s doing it out of meanness!” Red declared. “I still think Ross may have a finger in it.”
“We’ve just run into bad luck, that’s all,” Brad said. “Our troubles began when we lost the paddles and the blanket. Without a sand painting, I guess Den 1 will outshine us in the handicraft contest. But it can’t be helped. It’s not Dan’s fault.”
“I’m willing to start another painting,” Dan offered doggedly. “Maybe we could set up a guard to watch.”