By the time the three reached the dock, everyone except Mr. and Mrs. Holloway and their son had left the cabin. By then, rain was coming down steadily.
Brad and Dan, already wet through, made a dash for Mr. Hatfield’s car.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Holloway and the other fathers tomorrow,” the Cub leader promised, starting the motor. “If this rain keeps on, we won’t be able to do anything for a day or two in any event.”
The rains continued. Although not heavy enough to occasion alarm as to the level of the river, the Cubs were kept indoors.
For want of an occupation, Dan spent much time swimming at the “Y”. He worked on the official buckskin record of Den meetings, bringing it up to date. And he completed a stamp album which he intended to show in the hobby and handicraft exhibit planned by the Pack.
After that, confinement began to fret him. On the third day when he came downstairs for breakfast, his first act was to glare at the weather report in the morning paper.
“For crying out loud!” he complained bitterly. “More rain, the man says. Can you feature that?”
“Perhaps it’s a long range forecast,” his mother said encouragingly. “The sun seems to be straggling through the clouds.”
“It does look brighter,” Dan admitted, willing to hope. “Maybe it will clear up in a couple of weeks.”
By the time he had finished breakfast, the sun actually was shining. Greatly encouraged, Dan went outside to inspect the garden. He was intently studying a worm wriggling across the sidewalk, when a car stopped at the curb.