A moment later, Red, who had acquired the nickname because of his fiery hair, breathlessly joined the group. He carried a bulky object concealed in a large paper bag.
“Time you’re getting here!” Chips scolded him. “What you got in that sack?”
“Oh, nothing.” Red grinned mysteriously.
Carefully holding together the top edges of the bag so that none of the Cubs could see what it held, he took his place in the circle.
Mr. Hatfield stirred the log with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks.
“I’m about to spin a few Indian stories,” he remarked. “But first, now that we’re all here, I’ll tell you about next month’s den project. Ever hear of the Navajos?”
“Sure!” chirped Chips, proud of his knowledge. “Blankets! We’ve got some at home.”
The other Cubs hooted in derision.
“The Navajos are Indians,” corrected Dan. “They live on a large New Mexico reservation.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Hatfield. “The Navajos are very skillful at weaving blankets and making silver ornaments, so Chips wasn’t too far off.”