A grotesque carved face loomed on the wall. (See Page 31) “Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face”

CONTENTS

Chapter Page

1. A Missing Cub 1

2. The Face on the Cliff 12

3. Red Proves His Point 22

4. Suspicion 33

5. Strange Indians 45

6. Another Loss 54

7. A “Brush-off” 67

8. Dan’s Sand Painting 74

9. A Lost Paddle 83

10. An Underground Stream 93

11. Friend or Foe? 104

12. Exploring the Cave 114

13. More Trouble 126

14. Red’s Slip of Tongue 135

15. The Man in the Cave 148

16. Danger 158

17. Red’s Mistake 168

18. The Pow-wow 177

19. Three Points 188

20. The Turquoise Toad 204

Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face

CHAPTER I
A MISSING CUB

Firelight splashed the eager faces of six Cub Scouts, who squatted Indian fashion around the glowing log.

Sam Hatfield, cubmaster of Den 2 at Webster City, raised his hand in cheery greeting.

“How!”

“How!” responded the Cubs. Expectantly, they waited for their chief to speak.

On this particular night, the den meeting was being held on a river slope directly behind the home of Burton Holloway, one of the Den Dads.

As all the Cubs knew, the session was no ordinary week-end ceremonial. For Mr. Hatfield had promised that an important announcement would be forthcoming.

“Everyone here?” The cubmaster’s gaze roved from one Cub to another as he started to call the roll. “Brad Wilber!”

“Present,” drawled the Den Chief.

Brad was nearly 14, a Boy Scout and an acknowledged leader among the younger Cubs. Mr. Hatfield depended a great deal upon the dark-haired, serious youngster, having found him to be even-tempered and quick of wit.

“Dan Carter!” the cubmaster resumed the roll call.

“Here,” answered Dan with a friendly grin. He was a sandy-haired boy, clever in school and a fine athlete. All the Cubs liked him.

Next Mr. Hatfield called the name of his own son, Fred, who replied with a loud “How! Me heap big Injun!”

The roll call also included Mack Tibbets, Chips Davis and Midge Holloway, a son of the Den Dad. But when Red Suell’s name was spoken, he did not respond.

“Where’s Red?” Mr. Hatfield inquired. In the flickering firelight he could not see the boys’ faces distinctly. “Not here yet?”

“Late again,” drawled Chips. “You know Red. He never can make a meeting on time.”

“I thought he’d be here tonight,” said Brad. “He had something special on his mind. Fact is, I’m a little bothered about it—”

“Someone’s coming down the hill now,” cut in Dan. He directed attention toward a shadowy, hurrying figure.

A moment later, Red, who had acquired the nickname because of his fiery hair, breathlessly joined the group. He carried a bulky object concealed in a large paper bag.

“Time you’re getting here!” Chips scolded him. “What you got in that sack?”

“Oh, nothing.” Red grinned mysteriously.

Carefully holding together the top edges of the bag so that none of the Cubs could see what it held, he took his place in the circle.

Mr. Hatfield stirred the log with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks.

“I’m about to spin a few Indian stories,” he remarked. “But first, now that we’re all here, I’ll tell you about next month’s den project. Ever hear of the Navajos?”

“Sure!” chirped Chips, proud of his knowledge. “Blankets! We’ve got some at home.”

The other Cubs hooted in derision.