“Including that Indian headgear Red and I made!” Chips contributed. “I’d sure hate to lose it just before the Pack handicraft show.”
“Speaking of that feather headgear, I owe the Cubs an apology,” Mr. Silverton said. “Several of them, in fact. There’s no time to speak of certain matters now, but later on, you’ll hear from me. In the meantime, thanks for everything you’ve done tonight!”
The Cubs, eager to reach Mr. Holloway’s place, said good-bye and left the sportsman and Dobbs at the creek. Returning to Mr. Hatfield’s parked car, they rode with the Cub leader into Webster City, and on toward the outskirts.
As the highway curved near the river, the Cubs noted with increasing anxiety that large areas of low-lying shore had been nibbled away.
Finally, at the Holloway residence, they piled out of the car to see lighted lanterns moving in the vicinity of the log cabin.
Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs trooped down the slope to find Midge, his father, and Mrs. Holloway, moving bedding, furniture and knickknacks from the cabin.
“Glad you’re here!” Midge’s father greeted the newcomers. “From the look of your clothes, you’ve already had a bout with this flood.”
“A winning one, we’re glad to report!” the Cub leader laughed. “Need help here?”
“We certainly do, although for the moment the situation is fairly well in hand. But I’m worried about the folks on Rabb Island.”
The island of which Mr. Holloway spoke was situated in mid-river only a short distance downstream from the Cub’s cabin. Until recently it had been unoccupied.