“I see a lot of good hickory and birch around here,” Red said, stirring to effort. “Let’s get busy on those Indian bow staves.”
“Go to it,” Mr. Hatfield urged. “But don’t mutilate any of the trees.”
For the next hour, the Cubs wandered about, selecting choice pieces of hickory, white elm and other woods favored for staves. Midge’s father showed them how to dress the ends.
“Time we’re getting back,” he announced suddenly, picking up his knapsack. “Come on, gang.”
“Say, where is Chips?” Brad demanded, counting noses.
“And Red?” added Dan.
“They were here only a few minutes ago,” Fred recalled. “Come to think, I heard Chips say something about looking for a yew tree!”
“That dumb cluck!” Dan exploded. “If he were in an evergreen forest, he’d start looking for a date palm!”
Mr. Hatfield whistled several times and waited for an answering signal. None came.
“Red and Chips can’t be far away,” he said.
“Want me to go after them?” Brad volunteered.
“We’ll all follow their trail,” the Cub leader decided. “But keep together, gang. We’ve no time to look for other stragglers.”
The Cubs moved along, eyes intent on the ground. A short distance from where they had eaten lunch, Brad came upon a heel mark in a little patch of black, moist earth.
Pausing, he studied the mark a moment. “From Chips’ shoe,” he identified it. “I can tell by that wing design heel mark.”
A little farther on Dan found Red’s tracks. A broken bush indicated the direction in which he had gone.
“At least they’re together,” Mr. Holloway said in relief.
“Those dumb bunnies!” Fred said irritably. “What made ’em wander off that way? Do they think we’ve got nothing to do but trail them?”
Mr. Hatfield, deeply troubled, paused at intervals to give the familiar whistle. No answering call came through the woodland.
The trail of the two wanderers, led on and on to the banks of a racing creek.
Mr. Hatfield paused a moment to study a pile of logs and debris brought down by the flood. The litter had accumulated in a narrow gorge formation.
“Notice how those logs form a dam across the stream,” he remarked.
“The water could back up fast in event of a real flood,” agreed Mr. Holloway, following the Cub leader’s thought. “Fortunately, the rains seem to have let up.”
“We’re not far from the pheasant runs,” Sam Hatfield said, thinking aloud. “If I were in Saul Dobbs’ place, I’d clear away those logs. Perhaps there’s no danger. But it strikes me considerable damage might be done if the water should back up any distance.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know about the jam,” suggested Brad.
“That may be,” nodded the Cub leader. “However, some of those logs look as if they’ve been here quite a while.”
Dan, noticing that the logs formed a perfect bridge across the stream, started to walk across. The Cub leader called him back.
“Say, Dan,” he said, “let me see that map Mr. Silverton marked for you.”
“Sure.”
Leaping down from the log, Dan fished the paper from his pocket. While the Cubs peered over his shoulder, Mr. Hatfield spread it out on the ground.
“We’re very close to the area Mr. Silverton marked as restricted,” the Cub leader declared. “Directly across the stream is an abandoned logging road which joins the main highway along the river. This map shows the old road fenced off—”
The Cubs waited, but Mr. Hatfield did not complete what he had started to say. Instead, he stared at the log jam, lost in deep thought.
“Anything wrong?” Dan asked, puzzled.
“I was just wondering about that road across the creek,” the Cub leader said vaguely.
He passed the matter off as of no consequence. Except for Dan, the Cubs forgot the matter entirely, because at that moment, Brad gave an excited shout. In poking about along the sandy shore, he had made a disconcerting discovery.
“Say, come here!” he called.
The Cubs quickly joined him along the rim of the racing stream.
“We’ve got to find Chips and Red right away!” he informed the group. “See where their tracks lead!”
The Den Chief pointed to a series of heel marks, leading directly away from the stream.
Clearly, Red and Chips after reaching the site of the log jam, had left the main trail.
Selecting another, they had continued on, walking into the forbidden area of Mr. Silverton’s property!
“For the love o’ lemons!” exploded Dan as he saw for himself that the trail of footprints led into the restricted area of the Silverton property. “What got into Red and Chips?”
“They knew we gave our promise to Mr. Silverton,” Brad said, deeply troubled. “And now, first crack, they go wandering off.”
“Let’s drag ’em back here before Saul Dobbs learns about it,” advised Fred. “It would give him a good excuse for heaving us all off the place.”
Mr. Hatfield and Midge’s father were even more troubled than the Cubs over the actions of Chips and Red.
“We shouldn’t all enter the restricted area,” Mr. Holloway said. “I’ll take Brad and Dan and go after them. The rest wait here with Sam.”
With the Den Chief and Dan at his heels, Mr. Holloway rapidly followed the trail which, after leaving the creek, presently came out at a cleared area.
Directly ahead, they saw the two missing Cubs.
“Wahoo! Wahoo!” shouted Dan to attract their attention.
Red and Chips, who had their backs turned, whirled around to face the approaching trio. Seemingly unaware that they had committed any offense, they came trotting toward the group.
“See what we found!” Chips cried, extending his hands which were filled with gray pheasant tail feathers.
Red had a similar collection. “We’re going to use these for an Indian headdress!” he announced. “We can enter it in the Pack’s Indian craft exhibit at the end of the summer, and maybe win first prize!”
“You win first prize for being the Den’s No. 1 Dodo,” Brad said furiously. “Cripes! Can’t a fellow trust you a minute?”
“Brad, let me handle this,” said Mr. Holloway quietly.
Turning to the puzzled Chips and Red, he asked them if they knew what they had done.
“We haven’t done anything,” Chips insisted. “If all this fuss is about these feathers—we picked ’em up over there on the ground.”
“That’s right,” Red said, made uncomfortable by the Den Dad’s steady gaze. “You can bet we didn’t pluck any birds. In fact, we didn’t see a single pheasant.”
“I wasn’t referring to the feathers,” replied Mr. Holloway. “Do you realize where you are?”
“Sure. On Mr. Silverton’s land,” Red answered, still failing to comprehend.
“You’re in the forbidden area, Red. The Cubs pride themselves on keeping their word and being honest. You and Chips knew the rules.”
The two culprits gazed at each other in consternation.
“Gosh!” Chips exclaimed. “We didn’t know we had wandered into the out-of-bounds area. Did we, Red?”
“We sure didn’t,” the other returned earnestly. “We just started off looking for wood to make Indian bows. We didn’t find what we wanted, so we kept walking.”
“Then we found these feathers,” Chips took up the tale. “About that time, we heard Dan call. We didn’t do any harm.”
“Perhaps not,” admitted Mr. Holloway. “But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, through your carelessness, you’ve cast reflection on all the Cubs. Brad and Dan pledged the Den’s honor to Mr. Silverton.”
Chips hung his head. Red, twisting the gray feathers in his hands, avoided the level gaze of the Den Dad.
“We didn’t know we were breaking the rules,” Chips mumbled. “Dan only gave us one look at the map. How were we to tell—”
“Alibis don’t go with me,” said Mr. Holloway. “Well, the deed is done. The next question is, what are we to do about it?”
“If we get away from here before Saul Dobbs catches on, no one will be the wiser,” Chips said.
“And is that what you think we should do, Chips? Sneak out of here and keep quiet?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Chips said, hanging his head. “It was just a mistake.”
“But you and Red broke the rules. While you may not have intended to disobey, you weren’t careful.”
“Why not go to Mr. Silverton and tell him exactly what happened?” proposed Dan. “If he’s the right sort, he’ll accept our apology and not hold it against anyone.”
“How does that sound to you?” Mr. Holloway asked the two offenders.
“Suits me,” agreed Chips, while Red nodded morosely.
“I’ll have to talk this over with Mr. Hatfield and the other Cubs,” said the Den Dad. “But the idea sounds good to me.”
“It will mean a trip to Mr. Silverton’s office,” said Brad. “Probably it’s too late to see him today.”
“Tomorrow will have to do,” said Mr. Holloway. “Well, we have no right here. Let’s get back where we belong.”
Returning to the Cubs who waited by the creek, the Den Dad explained briefly what had happened.
“Chips and Red are willing to apologize to Mr. Silverton tomorrow,” he said. “I hope that will square matters. Brad, I think it might be well for you and Dan to go along, since you’ve already met Mr. Silverton.”
“I’ll be glad to, sir,” said Brad, while Dan nodded.
Aware that Chips and Red already were worried by their mistake, the Cubs did not plague them with questions or accusations. But everyone felt depressed by the outcome of the little excursion.
“By the way,” said Mr. Holloway, as the group left the creek, “someone should mention this log jam to Mr. Silverton tomorrow. It worries me. I figure he can’t know about it, or he’d have ordered it cleared away.”
“I’ll be glad to speak of it,” offered Dan.
He fell into step with Chips and Red, who for a long while walked in gloomy silence.
“I don’t see why Silverton’s so fussy about the Cubs going into that restricted section anyhow,” Chips grumbled.
“Guess he’s afraid his special breed of Germain peacock pheasants will be disturbed,” Dan said easily.
“Sure, that’s what he told you. But why keep the Cubs out when he lets others go there?”
“What do you mean—others?”
“Well, when Red and I were picking up those feathers we heard voices back of us in the woods—men’s voices.”
“That’s right,” Red agreed. “Someone must have driven up in a car on the old logging road, because we thought we could hear an engine running on the other side of the creek.”
“You must have good ears,” Dan said. “We didn’t hear any car. Or any voices either.”
Mr. Hatfield, who had been walking ahead, had overheard Red’s remark. Dropping back, he fell into step with the Cubs, listening rather attentively. Being a native, he knew that section very well.
“That old logging road hasn’t been used in years and has been allowed to grow up in weeds,” he said, thinking aloud. “I was told the sportsman fenced it off where it crosses the main highway. When the pavement went in three years ago, it nipped off the terminal of the logging road.”
“Maybe Dobbs or some of the workmen drove a car back in there,” Dan remarked.
“It wasn’t Dobbs,” Red insisted. “He has a gruff, husky voice. There were two men. One spoke in a high, almost squeaky voice, and the other was just a mumble.”
“Did you see the men or hear what they were saying?” Mr. Hatfield asked Red.
“No, we didn’t pay too much attention. Anyway, they were off quite a distance. But if Silverton lets others go into that section, I don’t see why he hangs barbed wire around us!”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “We gave our promise to stay away from the restricted area, and we broke it.”
“Chips and I already have said we’d explain to him,” Red mumbled, accepting the rebuke.
Without meeting Saul Dobbs, the Cubs returned to the river’s edge. Mr. Holloway took the first boatload of boys across to the cabin. Mr. Hatfield made the second trip, finally coming back for Brad and Dan, the only ones left on the far shore.
“How about taking a little jaunt upstream with me?” the Cub leader suggested, shoving off.
“Where to?” Dan asked quickly, surprised by the question.
“I’m curious to see the exit of that old logging road,” Mr. Hatfield explained.
“Let’s go!” urged Brad, eager for adventure. “What do you expect to find, Mr. Hatfield?”
“I’m not sure I’ll find anything, Brad. Let’s just charge this trip off to curiosity.”
Rowing against the strong current proved slow and hard work. But finally, the Cub leader nosed the boat into a sheltered cove. Brad and Dan helped him pull the craft high out of water.
Scrambling up the steep slope, Mr. Hatfield and the two boys walked along the pavement to the exit of the old abandoned logging road. A rail fence blocked it off from the main highway.
“Before the highway went through, this logging road ended at the river,” Mr. Hatfield explained. “Logs were hauled out and floated downstream to a paper mill at West Haven.”
“When was the logging road abandoned?” Brad asked curiously.
“Oh, at least eight years ago. The road was used some, I think, until Silverton bought the woodland property for a game preserve. Then he fenced off the exit to prevent trespassers from driving through.”
From where Dan stood, he could see only a short distance up the weed-choked dirt road. Why, he wondered, was Mr. Hatfield so interested? By this time he knew the Cub leader never did anything without a purpose.
“Let’s walk down the road a ways,” Mr. Hatfield proposed.
As he swung his long legs over the fence, the top rail tumbled to the ground. Mr. Hatfield waited until Dan and Brad had stepped over, and then stooped to replace the barrier. Carefully he examined the other rails which had been carelessly set in position.
“These logs have been removed quite recently,” he told his companions. “Wouldn’t you say someone has been using this old road? Perhaps entering and leaving it from the main highway?”
“That would fit in with what Chips and Red said about hearing voices!” Brad exclaimed. “But according to the map, this logging road doesn’t actually enter the restricted area of Mr. Silverton’s property.”
“No, but it parallels the stream much of the way,” Mr. Hatfield recalled. “One could drive a car in, park almost anywhere, and if he chose, cross the creek afoot.”
“That log jam makes a regular bridge!” Dan exclaimed. “But tell me! Why would anyone except Silverton or his workman have any reason to use the road?”
Mr. Hatfield did not directly answer the question. Instead he said: “I’m not indulging in any fancy speculation. Just wanted to check up on a few points, that’s all.”
Whistling a line from “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles,” the Cub leader set off down the old road. Rather mystified, Dan and Brad tagged at his heels.
A short distance farther on, Mr. Hatfield paused to study automobile tire tracks plainly visible in the grass and sand.
“A car must have been through here two or three times at least,” he commented. “Where does this road lead, I wonder?”
Dan offered him the marked map. According to it, they saw that the old logging road crossed the pheasant farm and woodland, playing out in the forest about two miles from the main highway.
“We won’t attempt to walk the two miles,” Mr. Hatfield said. “However, I do want to check back as far as the log jam in the creek.”
Still puzzled as to why the Cub leader was so interested in the old road, Brad and Dan kept pace with him as he rapidly followed the tire tracks.
Seeing no sign of a car, they came presently to the point of the twisting stream which was choked with logs and debris.
Mr. Hatfield immediately noticed that the water level had dropped slightly since their earlier visit.
“For the time being, there’s no danger of flood,” he said in relief. “But if it should continue to rain—”
“Is that why we walked back here?” Dan asked, unable to hide his disappointment. “Just to check the water level?”
Mr. Hatfield smiled and shook his head. He had found another clue.
“Notice anything else?” he asked.
“Why, no,” Dan said, puzzled. Then he corrected himself. “Yes, I do! The automobile tire tracks end here!”
“And one can see where the car turned around,” Brad added, pointing to a bush that had been torn and bent.
“That’s what I came to find out,” said Mr. Hatfield.
“But why do you want to know whether or not the car turned around here?” Dan asked.
“Oh, I figure the information may sometime be useful,” the Cub leader replied vaguely. “Just a hunch.”
His curiosity satisfied, Mr. Hatfield seemed to lose all interest in the old road.
However, as the trio rapidly retraced their way to the river and their waiting boat, he dropped a word of advice to his two companions.
“Let’s keep this little excursion to ourselves,” he suggested. “No use stirring up the Cubs about something that may not amount to anything.”
“You can depend on us to keep mum,” Brad promised. “But the truth is, you have us guessing too, Mr. Hatfield. What’s it all about?”
“Nothing I can definitely put a finger on yet,” Mr. Hatfield replied off-hand. “Shall we say it’s just a feeling I have?”
“That’s a rather unsatisfactory answer, sir,” grinned Dan.
“Unsatisfactory perhaps, but it’s better than going off half-cocked with wild speculations.” The Cub leader hesitated a moment and then added: “I’m hoping Mr. Silverton will accept our apology for invading the restricted area of his property today. If he shouldn’t, well—a little information may be useful.”
Early the next morning after nearly two days at Mr. Holloway’s shoreland home, the Cubs regretfully broke up their camp.
As they were packing their belongings into the cars, both Mr. and Mrs. Holloway assured the boys they were expected back that weekend for a meeting of the Pack.
“We’ll be here with bells!” declared Dan. “Next week may we visit the pheasant farm again? I intend to read up on game birds at the library and make a real study of ’em.”
“Whether we go there again or not, depends on Mr. Silverton,” Mr. Hatfield reminded the Cubs. “What’s the plan now, Chips?”
“Red and I are to meet Brad and Dan at Silverton’s office at ten o’clock this morning.”
“Fine!” approved the leader of the Cubs. “Be sure to let Mr. Holloway or me know how you come out.”
Though rather dreading the interview with Mr. Silverton, Brad and Dan were on hand at the stock broker’s office five minutes before the appointed hour.
Chips and Red came dragging in ten minutes later.
“Brace up, Red,” Brad encouraged him, noticing his downcast face. “I don’t think Mr. Silverton will be so tough.”
“Oh, I’m not worryin’ about the interview,” Red replied.
“Then what makes you look so down at the mouth?”
“I’m sore because I lost my Wolf badge yesterday. I guess it pulled off my jersey while we were in the woods.”
“That’s too bad,” Brad sympathized with him. “Well, maybe you’ll find it later.”
“Maybe,” Red shrugged, running a hand nervously through his short-cropped auburn hair. “Well, let’s get this interview over with!”
Brad spoke to the receptionist, who had been watching the Cubs with intent interest. However, when he asked if they might see Mr. Silverton, she explained that the stock broker was out of the city.
“He may return tomorrow, but I’m not certain,” she said regretfully.
“We’ll have to come back later then,” Brad replied, disappointed by their failure to see the sportsman.
Once outside the office, the four boys discussed their next move. “We could explain to Mr. Silverton by letter,” Brad said. “It’s better though I think, to see him personally. Let’s try to see him later.”
Chips and Red, who were on their way to the public library, parted with their companions at the next corner. Brad and Dan went on together, discussing plans for the week-end Pack ceremony at Mr. Holloway’s cabin.
So absorbed were they in their conversation that they bumped squarely into a man who had crossed the street against a red light. The pedestrian was Saul Dobbs.
“Say, watch where you’re going!” he exclaimed before they could apologize. And then, recognizing the pair, he exclaimed angrily: “I’ve been hoping to meet you again!”
Without giving either Dan or Brad opportunity to speak, the man began to berate them in a loud voice:
“Mr. Silverton let you visit his pheasant farm, didn’t he? And you promised him you’d stick to the main trails and not disturb the pheasants! But did you keep your promise? No! The minute you were out of sight, you sneak into the restricted area!”
“Just a minute, Mr. Dobbs—” interposed Brad.
“Now don’t try giving me any excuses! You deliberately went into that section by the creek. I got the goods on you! And you needn’t deny it either!”
“No one is denying anything,” Dan said hotly. “If you’ll give us a chance to explain—”
“You won’t do any explaining to me! You’re nothing but a bunch of unreliable youngsters. If I have my way, you’ll never set foot on Mr. Silverton’s land again!”
“You’re being unfair,” Brad said quietly. “It’s true two of the Cubs wandered by mistake into the restricted area. But we went to see Mr. Silverton a few minutes ago, intending to explain. We couldn’t because he’s out of town.”
“A likely story! Well, get this straight! You’re to stay away from the farm.”
Though resenting Saul Dobbs’ manner, Brad nevertheless said evenly: “Mr. Silverton gave us permission to visit the pheasant farm. It seems to me he’s the one who should decide whether or not our privileges are withdrawn.”
“I’ll see to that,” Dobbs said, his eyes blazing. “I knew there’d be trouble to pay when he let you Cubs onto the property!”
Pushing past the two boys, the foreman started on down the street.
“Wait, Mr. Dobbs!” Dan called impulsively. “There’s something we want to tell you—the creek is jammed—”
Dobbs paid not the slightest attention, if indeed, he heard. He strode on, turning at the corner.
“He’s heading for Mr. Silverton’s office,” Brad guessed. “Probably he will put in a bad word for us with the secretary.”
“Everything’s messed up now,” Dan said morosely. “Dobbs can make the situation look ugly.”
“Trust him to do it too! Well, I’m afraid with Silverton out of town, all we can do is report to Sam Hatfield and Mr. Holloway.”
Deeply disturbed by their meeting with Saul Dobbs, the two boys speculated upon how he had learned that Chips and Red had entered the restricted area.
“He couldn’t have seen them there or he’d have made a fuss about it yesterday,” reasoned Brad. “No, he’s learned about it since. Maybe he came upon footprints.”
At the next corner, the two boys entered a drugstore where they telephoned Mr. Hatfield to report the failure of their mission. The Cub leader’s answer was reassuring.
“Don’t worry about it,” he advised. “I’ll talk to Mr. Silverton myself when he returns to the city. I’m sure everything can be straightened out.”
The conversation lifted a load from the minds of the two Cubs. During the next two days, Brad and Dan went about their usual affairs, not giving the matter too much thought. True, they twice telephoned Mr. Silverton’s office, only to be told he had not returned to the city.
However, at the Pack meeting held Saturday night at Mr. Holloway’s cabin, their failure to clear up the misunderstanding was brought forcibly to attention.
Without consulting anyone, Chips and Red had made their collection of pheasant feathers into an Indian headdress. With more enthusiasm than tact, they proudly displayed their handiwork to the Den members.
“Neat, huh?” Chips asked Brad. “Do you think it might win a prize in the Pack handicraft show?”
“The workmanship is all right,” Brad admitted reluctantly. “But those feathers—well, I wish you hadn’t used ’em.”
“They were lying on the ground, going to waste.”
“Sure, I know,” Brad sighed. “I guess there wasn’t anything wrong about taking ’em, except that they were picked up where we had no business to be.”
“Then you think we shouldn’t enter the headdress in the handicraft show?” Chips demanded, a trifle sullenly. “After all the work Red and I did?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Brad said uncomfortably. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Hatfield. I’m all mixed up. I just wish Silverton would get back so we could talk this over and clear up things.”
Troubled, the older boy looked about for the Cub leader. Both he and Mr. Holloway were talking to the parents of the Cubs, answering a multitude of questions. They were so busy he could not get near either of them.
“Come on, Brad, join in the singing,” called Mrs. Holloway, signaling him from across the room.
To please her, Brad mingled with the group. At the top of their lungs, the Cubs were warbling:
“Old Akela had a Pack. E I E I O,And in this Pack he had some Dens. E I E I O.With Den 1 here, and Den 2 thereHere a Den, there a Den,Everywhere a happy Den,Old Akela had a Pack. E I E I O.”
“Old Akela had a Pack. E I E I O,
And in this Pack he had some Dens. E I E I O.
With Den 1 here, and Den 2 there
Here a Den, there a Den,
Everywhere a happy Den,
Old Akela had a Pack. E I E I O.”
Joining in, Brad began to relax and to feel his worries slipping away. By the time Mr. Hatfield gave the signal for the Pack meeting to start, he again was in a cheerful mood.
Six new Bobcats were to be taken into the Pack, among them Martin Howell, a nine year old, who would join Den 2.
Due to the soggy ground, it had not seemed advisable to build an outdoor campfire.
Instead, Mrs. Holloway, with the help of the Cubs, had made an imitation fire in the center of the cabin room.
In the absence of the Pack Cubmaster, Mr. Hatfield, his assistant, donned a blanket and Indian headdress in preparation for conducting the ceremony.
Dan began to beat the tom tom. The Cubs, wearing one feather to signify Wolf rank, two for Bear, three for Lion, and four for Webelos, formed a square about the fire.
Upon another signal, Brad brought into the room the boys who were to be accepted into the Pack as Bobcats.
“Akela,” he said, addressing Mr. Hatfield, “I bring friends who would join the Tribe of the Webelos.”
“Does the tribe wish them to join?” inquired Mr. Hatfield.
“Let them enter!” chanted the Pack members in unison.
Acting as Den Chief, Brad then led the newcomers into the square, so that they faced Mr. Hatfield.
“Do our friends know the Law of the Pack and are they ready to follow it?” asked Mr. Hatfield.
“They do, Akela.”
“Then let them repeat the Law.”
Solemnly the boys spoke the words:
“The Cub FOLLOWS Akela.The Cub HELPS the Pack go.The Pack HELPS the Cub Grow.The Cub GIVES good will.”
“The Cub FOLLOWS Akela.
The Cub HELPS the Pack go.
The Pack HELPS the Cub Grow.
The Cub GIVES good will.”
Mr. Hatfield then asked the parents of the candidates to come forward to stand by their sons. Welcoming them to the Pack, he explained briefly that Cubbing was a program for the entire family, and one which centered about the home circle.
The ceremony ended and the meeting broke up with another song.
Remaining to help clear away the litter after the others had gone, Brad and Dan walked down to the river’s edge with Mr. Holloway.
“The river seems to be rising again,” the Den Dad said, checking the level. “As yet, it is not alarming. But a hard rain on top of what we’ve had might flood the lowlands.”
“I wonder if Dobbs has cleared out that dam in the creek?” Dan remarked, turning to stare across the river toward the Silverton property. “We tried to tell him about it but he acted so ugly—”
The boy broke off so suddenly that Mr. Holloway who was retying the boat, straightened up quickly.
“What do you see, Dan?” he asked.
“Nothing now, Mr. Holloway. A second ago—just as I spoke, I thought I saw a flashing light across the river.”
“Where, Dan?”
“On Mr. Silverton’s land, or close to it. Near the old logging road, I’d judge.”
“I see nothing now.”
“No, sir. The flash only lasted a second. There, it is again! See!”
This time both Brad and Mr. Holloway saw the shooting beam of light. Close to the ground, it shone brightly for a moment and then disappeared.
“It might have been an automobile headlight or possibly a spot light,” Mr. Holloway said. “Odd that an automobile would be on that old road at this time of night.”
“Shouldn’t we go there to find out if anything is wrong?”
“I hardly think so,” Mr. Holloway replied, smiling at the boy’s eagerness. “Someone possibly may be prowling on Mr. Silverton’s premises. More likely though, Dobbs or another employee is doing night work. In any case, it is none of our affair.”
On the day following the meeting of the Pack, Dan, Brad, Chips and Red tried once more to see Mr. Silverton in his office.
The receptionist informed them that the sportsman had returned to Webster City, but was not expected in that day. Questioned further by Brad, she said she thought her employer had driven to his pheasant farm.
Once outside the building, Chips proposed that the Cubs go there to see him. “Let’s get it over with!” he said impatiently. “This suspense of not knowing what’s what is getting me!”
“Here too,” chimed in Red. “If we’ve got to apologize, I’m for doing it right away.”
“I suppose we could hike out there,” Brad agreed reluctantly. “It’s a long walk though.”
“Let’s go,” urged Dan. “The Cubs will be expecting a report at our next Den meeting.”
Anxious to get the matter settled one way or another, the four boys set off for the Silverton Pheasant Farm.
In passing through the village, they waved a friendly salute to the proprietor of the general store. If the storekeeper saw them, he gave no sign. At the moment, Brad thought nothing of the incident, though later it was to return to mind.
As the Cubs tramped on to the woodland trail, Dan spoke once more of the strange lights seen the previous night near the old logging road. Red considered the incident of slight consequence.
“Saul Dobbs or some of Mr. Silverton’s men probably were working late,” he said. “Think nothing of it.”
“But it seems sort of queer, Red.”
“What’s queer about it? Dan, you’re always trying to build a mystery out of nothing.”
“I am huh?” Dan shot back. “If that’s so, then why did Mr. Hatfield—”
He broke off as Brad shot him a warning glance. Belatedly, he remembered their promise to say nothing about the trip made with the Cub leader along the old logging road.
“Why did Mr. Hatfield—what?” demanded Chips.
“Oh, nothing,” Dan said, and deliberately changed the subject.
Without meeting anyone, the Cubs rapidly made their way along the narrow trail. Crossing the footbridge, they came presently within view of the barn.
Saul Dobbs, who had been repairing a wire fence in one of the pheasant pens, noted the approach of the Cubs.
With an exclamation of anger, he dropped his tools and strode toward them.
“What did I tell you about staying away from here?” he demanded, deliberately blocking the path.
“We were told Mr. Silverton is here,” Brad said. “We came to see him.”
“Well, Mr. Silverton has no time to see you. Now git out and don’t come back!”
Resenting the workman’s manner, the Cubs stood their ground. Brad had noticed a large blue automobile parked not far from the barn.
“Is that Mr. Silverton’s car?” he inquired.
“Git out!” Dobbs ordered again, without answering the question. “Mr. Silverton said this morning not to allow any Cubs ever to set foot on his land again!”
“Mr. Silverton gave such an order?” Brad gasped in disbelief.
“He sure did,” Dobbs retorted in great satisfaction. “You broke the rules by going into the restricted area, so now you can take your medicine!”
“You won’t listen to our explanation!” Dan broke in hotly. “At least give us a chance to talk to Mr. Silverton.”
“I told you he won’t see you and that’s final!”
Angrily, Saul Dobbs grasped Dan by the shoulders and turned him squarely around in the path. “Now git!”
“You’re just making that up about Mr. Silverton not wanting to see us!” Chips shouted, ready to do battle in Dan’s defense. “You mean you don’t want us to talk to him.”
Brad placed a restraining hand on the excited boy’s shoulder.
“Come on, Chips,” he advised. “No sense making a fuss. We’ll see Mr. Silverton later on.”
“Like fun you will,” Saul Dobbs muttered as the four Cubs started away. “I’m telling you, he’s had his fill of young tereduns.”
Completely discouraged, the boys treked back to the village. By now they were firmly convinced that if Dobbs had not poisoned Mr. Silverton’s mind against them, he would do so at the first opportunity.
“This is getting serious,” Brad said. “We’ve got to see Silverton somehow, even if it means calling his office every day.”
Warm and out-of-sorts from the long hike, the four boys dropped in at a village drugstore for ice cream. The proprietor glanced rather sharply at them as they entered a booth at the rear of the store, or so it seemed to Brad.
“Anything wrong with us today?” he remarked to the Cubs. “Everyone seems to give us the icy stare.”
“Hadn’t noticed it,” Dan replied, reaching for the menu.
“Well, maybe I imagined it,” the Den Chief shrugged.
But later, after the four had finished their ice cream, Chips paused at the counter rack a moment to flip the pages of a comic magazine.
“No loitering,” the drugstore owner reprimanded him. “If you’ve finished eating, go on outside. I can’t have you cluttering up the place.”
“Well, for crying out loud!” Chips remonstrated. “We’ll be glad to leave, and we won’t come back either!”
Indignant over the rebuff, the four boys paid their bill and left the drugstore. However, Brad was deeply disturbed by what had occurred.
“We weren’t doing anything,” he said. “Chips barely had glanced at the magazine when the proprietor jumped him.”
“Just another old crab!” declared Red. “This town’s full of ’em.”
“I’m afraid there’s more to it than that,” Brad said uneasily. “When we first went into the drugstore, the proprietor glanced at our uniforms in a rather odd—almost contemptuous way.”
“Our uniforms?” Dan repeated, puzzled. “What’s wrong with the Cub uniform?”
“Nothing. But he looked at us almost as if he were down on Cubs in general. And earlier, that grocery store owner seemed to give us the cold shoulder.”
“He did at that,” recalled Red. “The last time we were here with Mr. Hatfield he was beaming at us as if we were favorite sons.”