Dan glanced up to see the milkman looking over his shoulder. He had not heard the wagon drive up.
“Sure,” Dan grinned, moving aside so the man could reach the milk box at the doorstep. “I’m getting ready for the big Cub Scout knighting ceremony we’re to have at the church.”
“The Cubs really do a lot of interesting things,” replied the milkman. He slipped two bottles into the box and gathered up the empties. “I read the other day how the Cubs found some money—say, weren’t you the one who turned up that tin box?”
“Guilty,” agreed Dan. “I almost wish I hadn’t found it too! So many persons have put in a claim. Then to make matters worse, the box disappeared again.”
“I read about that too. Some neighbors of Mr. Hatfield told me the police gave him a pretty rough going over.”
“They questioned him, the same as they did me,” Dan replied indignantly. “But that’s routine. He doesn’t know what became of the money. Someone swiped it from his house.”
“When was the box supposed to have disappeared?”
“No one knows. We took it there the night it was found in the church. Then the next morning when the police came, Mr. Hatfield couldn’t find it.”
“You know, I’ve been wondering if I should report this,” the milkman said thoughtfully.
“Report what?”