Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face Part 4

"Scouting for Den 1, I'll bet a cent," Brad replied. "You know Ross! He's already afraid we'll get ahead of him somehow."

"We usually do, too," grinned Dan.

Ross and Dan long had been friendly rivals. Both were excellent swimmers, though in a Pack compet.i.tion, Dan had proven himself to be the better.

Ross, who prided himself upon excelling in all sports, never had forgotten.

"He's here to see how we're getting along in canoe practice," Dan remarked. "Well, I hope he gets an eye full!"

Ross was tall and gangling, having grown so fast that his Cub uniform already was too small for him. He was strong for his age, inclined to be arrogant, and was the least liked of any boy in Den 1.

Aware that Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Holloway were within hearing distance, Ross addressed the two Cubs respectfully enough.

"Working hard, I see."

"Oh, just practicing a little," Dan answered carelessly.

"You should," Ross retorted boastfully. "Den 1 is all set to take you for a cleaning in the canoe race. We'll win in a walk."

If the Den 1 boy had hoped to get a retort from Brad or Dan, they disappointed him by remaining silent. Irked by his failure to start a spirited debate, Ross picked up the paddle upon which Red had been working.

"Hey, be careful!" Red protested. "You'll make the paint run!"

"Couldn't make it look much worse than it is," Ross said contemptuously.

"You should see some of the paddles Den 1 has painted."

"Works of art, I suppose?" Brad asked dryly. "Going to exhibit 'em at the museum?"

"Maybe, after we've nailed first prize at the Pack exhibition."

"Put that paddle down before you wreck it!" Red ordered furiously.

"You're getting sand on the fresh paint."

"Excuse me." With an elaborate bow, Ross laid the paddle on the sand near the river's edge. Glancing around, he next demanded: "Where's your hogan?"

"Haven't started it yet," Brad replied. "We'll probably get it up over the week-end."

"Den 1 has a dandy all finished," Ross continued boastfully. "We put it up in nothing flat."

Dan could not resist saying cuttingly: "It probably looks like it too! We aim to take our time and do a good job."

Ignoring the jibe, Ross glowingly described the accomplishments of the Den 1 Cubs. Not only had they completed a Navajo hogan, but they likewise had started to build a trading post and a Wells Fargo station, he informed his listeners.

"We're building a loom too, for blanket weaving," he went on grandly.

"And we've already gathered six boxes of clothing to send out West to the Navajo reservation."

"You're ahead of us all right," Dan conceded. "But we've only started on the program. You'll see us put on steam."

"I hope so. Otherwise, Den 1 will have absolutely no compet.i.tion at the pow-wow." Affecting a bored air, Ross sauntered away.

"That snoop!" Red snorted. "He came here to spy and for no other reason.

I don't believe half what he said."

"It's probably true Den 1 is ahead of us, but that doesn't mean it will be that way in another week," Dan declared. "They started in before we did, so naturally we're behind."

Red, who a few minutes before, had been very proud of the Indian design he had painted on the paddle, gazed at it with distaste.

"I guess it isn't much of a job," he admitted.

"It's a swell design!" Brad rea.s.sured him. "Not that you won't be able to do even better with a little more practice."

"I'll work on an original design-not one copied from a book!" Red announced grimly. "I'll show that Ross Langdon!"

"That's the spirit," laughed Brad. "Maybe it's a good thing he came prowling around here. It will spur us to greater effort."

After Ross had gone, the Cubs kept on with their canoe practice until long shadows began to finger out across the water. Mr. Hatfield then called a halt.

"It's getting late," he said. "If we want to hike to the ravine, we'll have to make a start."

Dan and Chips pulled the canoe out of the water, taking care to drag it far up on sh.o.r.e beyond the reach of waves. There they overturned it so that it would be dry when they wanted to use it again.

"We'll let Red lead the way," Mr. Hatfield said as the boys started off through the woods. "Think you can find the ravine?"

"I'm sure I can, Mr. Hatfield. And I'll prove-"

"Sure, we know," cut in Chips wearily. "We'll believe you when we see it.

Just lead the way and don't give with so many promises."

Goaded by the knowledge that his fellow Cubs still believed his report of the previous night to be a brain fantasy, Red started doggedly off through the woods.

At first he followed the well-marked trail. After going a short distance, he hesitated briefly and then moved off in a diagonal direction.

"Everything looks different in the daytime," he complained. "I think I came this way, but I'm not sure."

"Give up already?" Fred teased.

"Not on your life."

"The ravine is just ahead," said Mr. Hatfield. "It extends for the entire distance of the park preserve though."

Presently, the Cubs emerged from the trees to find themselves on a great limestone rock overlooking a deep gash in the earth.

In either direction, as far as they could see, stretched the shadowy ravine. At the bottom, a tiny stream of clear water rippled and foamed over the rocks.

Opposite the Cubs, the cliff walls rose somber but entirely blank.

"Where's your big face, Red?" Brad demanded.

"I must have come out at the wrong place," Red mumbled. "It should be here, or somewhere close."