“Why, yes,” Red admitted. “I guess maybe we shouldn’t have picked up the feathers, but we didn’t see any harm in it at the time. We were kinda proud of the thing after we made it.”
“Now for the second question. You boys found the feathers lying on the ground?”
“We sure did, Mr. Hatfield. I hope you don’t think that either Chips or I would have taken them from live birds?”
“I’ll show you the very place we picked them up,” Chips added. “You can bet your life we didn’t go around plucking ’em out of live birds!”
“Considering that Mr. Silverton has told the Cubs to keep off his property, I’m afraid I won’t be able to see the place,” Mr. Hatfield said, smiling. “But I do accept your word.”
“How are we going to prove to other folks that we didn’t steal the feathers?” Red demanded. “First off, I’ll pitch that Indian headgear.”
“No, Red. The damage has been done. Hiding the headdress now would only tend to confirm suspicions.”
“You mean Chips and I can enter it in the Pack handicraft show? I’m not sure I’d want to after what’s happened.”
“There’s plenty of time to decide that later on,” Mr. Hatfield returned. He arose from his desk, a signal that the interview was at an end. “Meanwhile, I’ll see you all at the Indian Pow Wow tomorrow night.”
With the help of Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, the Den had planned its weekly meeting on an Indian theme. Midge and Fred had spent the better part of four days setting up a tepee in the Holloway back yard. The taut gunny sacking had been painted with gaudy colors in Indian designs.