“Present,” drawled the Den Chief.
Brad was nearly 14, a Boy Scout and an acknowledged leader among the younger Cubs. Mr. Hatfield depended a great deal upon the dark-haired, serious youngster, having found him to be even-tempered and quick of wit.
“Dan Carter!” the cubmaster resumed the roll call.
“Here,” answered Dan with a friendly grin. He was a sandy-haired boy, clever in school and a fine athlete. All the Cubs liked him.
Next Mr. Hatfield called the name of his own son, Fred, who replied with a loud “How! Me heap big Injun!”
The roll call also included Mack Tibbets, Chips Davis and Midge Holloway, a son of the Den Dad. But when Red Suell’s name was spoken, he did not respond.
“Where’s Red?” Mr. Hatfield inquired. In the flickering firelight he could not see the boys’ faces distinctly. “Not here yet?”
“Late again,” drawled Chips. “You know Red. He never can make a meeting on time.”
“I thought he’d be here tonight,” said Brad. “He had something special on his mind. Fact is, I’m a little bothered about it—”
“Someone’s coming down the hill now,” cut in Dan. He directed attention toward a shadowy, hurrying figure.