The island owner and Mr. Hatfield now stood on the sagging veranda, surrounded by Cubs. A few splatters of rain drove into their faces.
“I’ll not ask you to break camp with a storm coming on,” Mr. Manheim said. “If you’ll leave by tomorrow morning, that will be satisfactory.”
“We’ll endeavor to depart before that. I’ll contact the mainland as quickly as I can and have a launch come to pick up our equipment.”
“Suit yourselves,” Mr. Manheim shrugged. “I’m not driving you away. You’re free to stay until tomorrow morning. After that, I’ll consider it a favor if you’ll not bring the Cubs here again.”
“Rest assured we will remain away, Mr. Manheim.”
“Another thing. I’ve changed my mind about selling the camp site. You readily can see that it would never work out to have Cubs or Scouts here. There would be constant friction.”
“On that point I could give you an argument, Mr. Manheim. However, I realize you’ve made up your mind, so I’ll say no more.”
Leaving Mr. Manheim with Jabowski, the discouraged Cubs trudged back to camp with their leaders. Rain now was falling steadily, adding to the gloom of the boys.
“Brace up, Dan,” Brad said as the two sought the shelter of a tent. “It wasn’t exactly your fault.”
“Sure it was,” Dan insisted. “I’ve messed things up for fair. Mr. Hatfield’s being mighty decent about it, but I can see he’s bothered. And the Scouts will blame us for cutting them out of their camp site.”