The firemen, assuming that Mr. Hatfield referred to the carload of Cub Scouts, made a joking reply. They told the Cub leader that the storm had been a severe one. Several trees had blown down and many streets were flooded.
Relieved to be on their way once more, Mr. Hatfield drove directly to his residence.
“I want to rid myself of this money box first of all,” the Cub leader said. “Then I’ll take you boys home.”
“Why don’t we stay a few minutes and help you count it?” Brad suggested. “The job shouldn’t take long.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mr. Hatfield agreed. “Just so your folks don’t worry. Better telephone them and explain that you’ve been delayed a few minutes.”
The Cub leader carried the money box into the living room. While the boys were telephoning, he built a fire in the grate.
“Now to count the money,” he said when the Cubs had returned to the living room. “Fred, pull the blinds. We don’t need any spectators.”
Fred hastened to obey.
“I hope no one followed us here,” Dan said uneasily. “That car—”
“Oh, we lost it before we stalled in the high water,” Mr. Hatfield reassured him. “The chances are we imagined we were being trailed.”