“Use your head. You know if we all start going back and forth to that window, sooner or later we’ll be seen. We have an important job to do.”
“That’s right,” Dan supported the older boy. “And Brad’s in charge. What he says goes.”
“That’s all right for you,” Chips argued. “You already had your look.”
Surprisingly, Jack Phillips now entered the discussion.
“Pipe down, you!” he flung at the astonished Chips. “You’re yapping like a baby. We do as Mr. Hatfield said—see!”
Chips and Midge both subsided.
Time passed very slowly. Brad began to think it was taking Mr. Hatfield and Red a long while to telephone police. The Cubs, he could see, were growing cold and restless. Babe in particular, who had not dressed warmly enough, huddled against the older boy.
“How much longer will it be?” he asked.
“I sure wish I knew,” Brad replied. “Listen, Babe. You’re shivering. Why don’t you hike to Mrs. Jones’ place and warm yourself?”
Babe shook his head. “Nothing doing,” he said stoutly. “I’m as tough as the other fellows any day.”