“Oh, the tramp won’t notice,” Fred said. “I could give my siren whistle.”
“No, the whippoorwill signal will be better,” Brad decided quickly. “That siren of yours would send him hot-footing in the opposite direction. But don’t use any signal unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
No sooner had the two gone off, than Chips again urged that the Cubs investigate the shack.
“Jack said the tramp will be tied up for a half hour,” he argued. “This is our chance! We can get in there and find the money!”
“Sure, Mr. Hatfield would want us to do it!” Midge backed him up.
“Well, I don’t know—it’s sort of risky.”
“Oh, you’re too conservative,” Chips said hotly. “I’m not afraid!”
“No one is afraid,” Brad retorted. “It’s just a matter of common sense. If the tramp should catch us here before the police arrive—”
“Heck! We’re seven to his one! What do we need? An army?”
The taunt annoyed Brad. “I’m just trying to do what Mr. Hatfield would want us to,” he retorted. “You’re so hot-headed.”