or this castle.”

“The bird still may be here too, Dan. Let’s look around.”

Quietly the boys went from room to room. No one could be found on the lower floor. Yet as they climbed the circular staircase to the second floor, Dan again thought he heard faint laughter from below.

“You imagined it, Dan,” Brad insisted.

“Maybe, but this house has a dozen and one hiding places. It would be easy for anyone to keep out of our way.”

“I wouldn’t want to go through this place at night,” Brad said with a shiver. “It’s spooky enough by daytime. The bank will be smart to get that window fixed and board up the place.”

Decidedly uneasy, the boys tramped from one bed chamber to another. All the rooms were large and at least half of them had fireplaces. They found no further evidence that anyone was in the dwelling.

“Whoever the person was, I think he’s taken himself off by now,” Brad said finally. By this time they had examined every room, including the circular towers at each corner of the building.

“I guess so,” Dan agreed in relief. “Let’s go back to the kitchen.”

There, the two boys carefully stamped out the dying embers of the fire.

Then, after again inspecting the lower floor, they let themselves out through the window.

“I hope to see Mr. Kain tomorrow,” Brad said as he walked back toward the archery range. “That broken window should be repaired.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Dan reminded him.

“That’s so. Well, I’ll make a point of seeing him Monday then. The window has been broken for a long while, so I suppose another day won’t matter too much.”

The Cubs had spread out their lunch at the base of a large elm tree. Brad and Dan joined the group and began to eat their sandwiches. As usual, the conversation reverted to the archery competition.

“If the Pack expects to win a prize for having the best play, it means we’ve got to dig in and work,” Mr. Hatfield warned the Cubs. “Our acting is rough, and a lot of detail has to be worked out.”

“Not to mention our archery,” added Brad with a laugh. “We can stand plenty of target practice!”

The Cubs finished lunch, rested for a half hour, and then voted to return to the archery range.

“Dan, you have a chance to win the part of Robin Hood,” Midge encouraged his friend. “Why don’t you get to work and show Ross Langdon you can beat him a mile!”

“Easier said than done. He is good and we both know it.”

“Sure,” Midge admitted grudgingly. “But don’t forget he’s lazy. He’s so certain of winning the part, I’ll bet he doesn’t do much practicing.”

“I’d like the part,” Dan said. “I intend to work hard to improve my shooting. All the same, I haven’t much hope.”

The two Cubs were the first to reach the archery range and so had their choice of bows.

Dan shot first, placing four of his arrows within the black of the target. Only two struck the outer rim.

“You’re getting more accurate every time, Dan!” Midge approved, stepping up to take his turn.

Three of his arrows missed the target completely. He shot the next three more carefully, managing to get them on the rim.

“Friar Tuck would blush with shame if he could see me,” Midge laughed ruefully. “Wow! Am I lousy!”

The two boys trotted down to the target to retrieve their arrows.

Midge glanced at the very center of the target face and gasped in astonishment.

“Dan, you made a bull’s-eye! Your shaft went right to the heart of it!”

“What?” Dan demanded. “Impossible!”

“Well, look at the arrow!”

Dan saw for himself that an arrow had pierced the target padding at its very center. The shot was a perfect one.

“Midge, that couldn’t have been my shot.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t mine.”

Dan had examined the arrow carefully after removing it from the target.

“Neither of us shot it,” he announced. “See, it’s larger than those we used.”

“The shaft is longer,” Midge agreed in awe. “Also, we shot six arrows apiece.”

“Nine should be in the target, Midge. Instead, there were ten.”

“But who shot the tenth one?”

Dan had no answer for the question. “It must have been there when we started shooting,” he said slowly. “Probably we didn’t notice.”

“Maybe it’s one of Mr. Holloway’s arrows. Or worse luck—from Ross’ bow.”

“Could be,” Dan agreed as they picked up their arrows and left the range. “All the same, I wonder—”

His gaze roved toward the surrounding woods.

“You wonder what, Dan?”

“I don’t believe that arrow was shot by any of the Cubs or Mr. Holloway either,” he announced with sudden conviction.

Midge stared at him in amazement.

“Who else could have shot it, Dan?”

“Well, I don’t know,” the other boy admitted lamely. He was reluctant to tell Midge about the fire inside the castle until after he had talked with Mr. Hatfield.

“You’re keeping something to yourself,” Midge accused.

“I’m not sure of a thing,” Dan replied, moving off in search of the Cub leader. “I wish though that we could find the person who shot that arrow! He’s a natural for the role of Robin Hood!”