  “Locked?” Brad repeated, stunned by Dan’s disclosure. “Why, it couldn’t be.” He went quickly to the door to test it for himself. “We’re trapped in here,” Dan gasped, truly unnerved. “Someone must have come along and locked us in. What’ll we do?” “Take it cool, for one thing,” Brad replied, forcing himself to remain very calm. “Hey, look here!” He pointed to the bolt which had been shot into place from the inside of the building. “Well, what d’you know?” Dan mumbled. “In your excitement, you must have locked that door yourself.” “I never did!” Dan denied. “I haven’t been near this door since we came in and toted the freezers downstairs.” “Then how’d it get locked from the inside? I know I didn’t do it.” As the full realization of what could have happened, dawned upon the two, they stared at each other an instant. Neither voiced the thought that someone might be in the building with them, but Dan involuntarily raised his eyes toward the darkening belfry steps. Those creaking sounds he had heard now seemed to have significance. “Let’s see if we can get out of here,” Brad said gruffly. The bolt stuck. He struck it sharply with his fist, and it flew back. The door opened readily. “That’s a relief!” Dan exclaimed, drawing a natural breath again. “And how!” The two cubs hurriedly left the building. Having no key, they could not lock the church door from the outside. “Anyway, we’re leaving it just as we found it,” Brad said. “Dan, you’re sure you didn’t slip that bolt in an absent-minded moment?” “Positive.” “So am I.” Brad frowned thoughtfully. “It must have been done while we were in the cellar. But who did it?” “And what became of the person who locked us in?” Dan demanded in a hushed voice. “Do you suppose—?” “He, she or IT is still in there?” Brad finished the sentence. “You have to admit it’s sort of spooky.” “It’s disturbing all right,” Brad agreed. “Maybe we were locked in by accident. But if so, someone had to be in that church. And that someone must be still there.” The Cubs gazed reflectively at the old building. Despite their suspicion that it might have an occupant, nothing could have induced them to return for an inspection. “Maybe it was Terry,” Brad said doubtfully. “He could have heard us inside, and played a joke.” Dan shook his head. “It wasn’t Terry, I’m sure, Brad. If he had caught us there, he would have raised cain.” “I think so myself.” Dan indicated the little red wagon which had been used to haul the freezers. He pointed out that anyone approaching the old church certainly would have seen it and know of their presence inside the building. “Someone did it to scare us away, Brad,” he declared. “I didn’t tell you, but I was sure I heard footsteps on the stairway leading to the belfry.” “You think someone may have been hiding there, Dan?” “I’m wondering.” “Not one of Pat’s gang, I hope.” “This old church is awfully close to the river and the railroad tracks,” Dan remarked. “Someone could be using the place without the trustees knowing. I suspect Old Terry isn’t as careful about keeping windows and doors locked as he’s supposed to be.” “We could go back inside and check—” “Not now, anyway,” Dan said quickly. “We’re in enough hot water as it is.” Brad agreed with the denner that it would be unwise to investigate further that day. He proposed, however, that they inform Mr. Hatfield of their findings, and also Terry Treuhaft. The very next day, Dan ran into the old caretaker on a downtown street. Drawing him into conversation, he told of finding the unlocked door. “How’d it get unlocked?” Terry demanded. “I never left it that way.” The caretaker was not as angry about the Cubs returning the ice cream freezers as Dan had expected him to be. Encouraged, he even dared reveal that the lid to one of the containers was missing. “Yeah?” Old Terry grunted. “I reckon it can’t be helped. Anyhow, those freezers ain’t been used in years.” “Seemingly, they intend to go ahead with their court action,” the Cub leader informed the boys. “We’ll have to hire ourselves a lawyer.” Advance ticket sale for the Friday night basketball had been very large. On the evening of the game, the gymnasium was packed. “Say, I’ll bet we’ve taken in twenty or thirty dollars at least!” Fred Hatfield excitedly reported to the other Cubs. “This will be a big boost for our treasury.” Game time was at seven o’clock. Shortly before the hour, Pat Oswald and his four players trotted out on the floor to practice a few baskets. “Get a load of those suits!” Chips muttered to Dan. The five players wore new, bright-hued purple sport shirts. By contrast, the Cubs had non-descript shorts and shirts, no two alike. “And look at that guy shoot baskets,” Chips went on gloomily. “He can’t miss!” He nodded his head toward Pat, who was winning applause from the crowd by his dead-aim at the basket. “Just get in there and guard him,” Dan urged. “Don’t let him get a chance a throw.” Dan gazed at the caretaker in sheer amazement, wondering if he were ill. Why this sudden change of heart toward the Cubs? “Thanks for the tip about the door,” Terry said. “I’ll check up on it right away.” He started off, then paused and said awkwardly: “About that suit the trustees are threatening to bring—” “Yes?” “Just wanted you to know, I kinda changed my ideas about the Cubs.” “Then you realize we had nothing to do with wrecking that building or taking the freezers?” “I been checkin’ around,” the caretaker admitted. “Folks everywhere have a good word for the Cubs.” “I wish you could convince the trustees they should drop their action.” “That won’t be so easy, Dan,” Terry sighed. “Mr. Maxwell is a determined man. I’ll put in a good word though for the Cubs.” “Thanks,” Dan said gratefully. “Thanks a lot.” The next few days he waited expectantly, hoping that very good news would come of his talk with Terry. When nothing happened, he and the other Cubs became discouraged again. From Mr. Hatfield they learned that apparently there had been no change in the attitude of the church trustees. The game began with one of the high school teachers, Jim Veeley, acting as referee. Midge and Dan played as forwards, Chips guarded Pat Oswald, and Red was assigned to another bulky player. Fred and Chub sat on the sidelines as substitutes. Brad, several inches shorter than his opponent at center, missed the toss-up. The Purple Five gained possession of the ball. Back and forth they passed it, jeering at the Cubs. Then they fed it to Pat. Before Chips could come awake, the Purple Five forward brushed roughly past him. Quick as a cat, he dribbled directly under the basket, and hooked an easy one through the netting. The Purple Five had scored in the first minute of play! A ripple of applause came from the audience for the basket had been a pretty one. On the south side of the gymnasium where rooters for the Bay Shore boys had congregated, loud cheering broke out. “Get in there, Cubs!” rooters for Den 2 called. “Come on!” The Cubs were on their toes now, determined not to let the Purple Five score again. But they couldn’t seem to get their hands on the ball. Pat was a one-man team, darting here, there everywhere. Poor Chips was winded trying to keep up with the fleet-footed forward. Repeatedly, the Purple Five scored, while Dan managed only one basket. As the Purple Five’s score climbed, Pat became even more flashy and bold. He’d shove Chips aside to snatch the ball, and twice he jabbed him with his elbow. Twice the referee warned him for roughness. Then he called a personal foul. A howl of indignation went up from the section of Bay Shore rooters. “Served Pat right!” Chips muttered. “He’s been getting by with murder.” He took his place on the freethrow line, waited for the noise to subside, and tossed the ball. It went through the netting, tallying a point for the Cubs. After that, two other fouls were called in rapid succession on Pat. In each instance, the Cubs scored on the freethrow. When the half finally ended, the score stood 10 to 5 in favor of the Purple Five. As the boys rested, Mr. Veeley came around to speak to Pat. “One more foul and you’ll be out of the game,” he warned. “Better watch it next half.” The game began again and Pat observed the rules more carefully. But now, instead of trying repeatedly for the ball, he would bounce it lazily back and forth among his teammates. Clearly, the Bay Shore boys meant to play a delaying game. “Break it up! Break it up!” shouted the rooters. The Cubs tried their best. Seeing the ball coming toward him on a straight pass, Dan reached for it. At that instant, Pat darted in, striking the Cub’s arm just as his fingers would have closed upon the ball. A howl of anger arose from the crowd. Mr. Veeley held up his hands in signal of another personal fowl on Pat. Dan made the free throw. Pat was ordered off the floor. “You can’t do that,” he protested. “We don’t have any regular substitute.” His arguments were unavailing. Pat finally left the floor, muttering to himself. A lean, lanky substitute took his place. After that, it was a losing game for the Purple Five. With Pat on the sidelines, the team collapsed. The Cubs brought the score even, and then Dan dropped three baskets in succession to win the game by a six point margin. “Well, we won, boy!” Brad declared as they trotted off the floor after the final whistle had blown. “You were great, Dan!” “We didn’t have too much competition after Pat went out of the game,” Dan replied, brushing dirt from his shorts. “I wish we could have won with him opposing us.” “It was his own fault,” Brad shrugged. “Mr. Veeley warned him.” The Purple Five and their rooters took defeat with poor grace. There were mutterings of “We were robbed!” and remarks that the referee had been unfair. “Maybe you want to call off the other two games,” Brad suggested quietly to Pat. “No such thing,” the other boy retorted. “Next time we’ll lick you so you’ll never forget it. Besides, we need the cash.” “What d’you mean?” Brad demanded, already guessing the answer. “The gate,” Pat explained with an impudent grin. “You Cubs took in a lot of dough tonight. Well, we want our share. Half of it belongs to us.” |
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