“Oh, it won’t hurt just to peek inside,” Chips protested.
Before Brad could stop him, the boy shoved open the door.
“Chips!” Brad shouted furiously.
But the boy needed no additional warning. Already he had been effectively halted.
As the door swung outward, a figure loomed up before him.
Chips was so astonished at seeing anyone in the house, he could only stare. The man was stoutish and wore soiled, wrinkled clothes. A stubble of beard gave his face a shadowy appearance.
More than anything else, Chips was made aware of the dark eyes which seemed to bore directly into him.
“I—I beg your pardon,” he mumbled, gathering his wits. “I—I didn’t know anyone was in the house.”
“Who are you?” the man demanded harshly.
“A Cub Scout. We’re all Cubs.” Chips was grateful that the other boys were behind him, gathering closer. “We’re here picking up roof discs.”