“And now let’s forget the storm and get down to business,” he said, calling the meeting to order. “We have some important matters to take up tonight.”
To stir their blood and start the session off, the boys gave the Cub yell.
Like healthy young wolves, they howled in unison: “A-h-h-kay Iaa! W-e-e-l d-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-r Best!”
“And that’s exactly what I hope we’ll do in the job that’s ahead of us—our best,” Mr. Hatfield emphasized as the room became quiet again. “You fellows know why I called you here tonight?”
“It’s something about the church building fund, isn’t it?” Midge Holloway recalled. He had heard his father, one of the Den “Dads” mention the matter at home.
“That’s right,” Mr. Hatfield agreed. “As everyone knows, we need a new church or, at the very least, another wing. Now that temporary repairs have been made, the building can be kept open another year or so. Our crying need, though, is for a new building.”
“A campaign is under way to raise funds, isn’t it?” Brad remarked, for Mr. Hatfield had discussed the matter with him.
“Yes, Brad. The church trustees have asked the Cub Scouts to pitch in and help. What do you say, fellows?”
“How much will we have to raise?” Chips asked, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.
“No definite sum has been set. We’ll be given a list of prospects to see. Whatever we raise will be that much to the good.”