“On the contrary, you did exactly right. Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to call off the trip on such short notice. We’ll go on just as we planned.”
“Oh, thanks, Mr. Hatfield!”
“Don’t thank me,” the Cub leader rejoined. “Just keep your lips buttoned and your eyes open after we reach Skeleton Island. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report to me. But don’t say or do anything to worry or stir up the Cubs.”
“I’ll remember,” Dan promised.
“Now lend a hand with this camping equipment,” Mr. Hatfield said briskly. “I want to have everything at the dock before eight o’clock.”
Two hours later found the Cubs in their temporary camp on Skeleton Island. Tents already were up, balsam beds in preparation of making, and a trench fire started for the noon-day meal.
A beach near the camp sloped gently out into the river more than fifteen yards. This the Den Dads marked off with ropes and floats. Beyond was a somewhat deeper area, suitable for the more experienced swimmers.
“I wish we had a diving raft,” Brad remarked, surveying the possibilities.
“Why not build one?” proposed Mr. Hatfield. “I saw some old boards and a log or two lying back in the brush. We easily can build a small raft.”
For an hour the Cubs busied themselves carrying boards and logs to the riverside. Mr. Hatfield supervised the work, showing the boys how to fit the logs together to make a firm framework for the platform.