“White Nose and Eagle Feather, for instance?” chuckled Chips, stepping over a fallen tree on the trail.
“Sure. Why not?”
“We’ll appoint you a committee of one to arrange it.”
“Mr. Hatfield might do it,” interposed Brad, taking Chips’ suggestion half seriously. “Those Indians are well educated and they might be willing to cooperate with the Cub organization. The only trouble is, we don’t know where they’re staying in Webster City.”
“Or what brought them here,” added Dan soberly. “I didn’t like all that talk about searching for one of their brothers. They were too grim. To me, it had an ugly sound.”
“They seemed to think that the person they’re after carved the face on the cliff,” remarked Mack. “That deepens the mystery.”
“I wish Professor Sarazen of the Webster City College art staff could see that carving,” Brad said thoughtfully. “If I get a chance, I think I’ll drop around at his place and tell him about it.”
The Den Chief had been swinging along through the forest at a smooth but fast pace. Now, coming to a little brook, he paused abruptly.
“Whad’you see?” demanded Dan, who was directly behind.
Without answering immediately, the older boy bent down to examine a crude snare which had been built across a game run near the stream bank. “Someone’s been hunting for rabbits here!” he exclaimed.