“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.”
CHAPTER 6
Indian Feathers
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.”
“Even strangers on the street grinned at us and acted friendly just because we were Cubs,” Dan added. “How do you explain the sudden change?”
“I don’t know, but I have a hunch—” Brad began, only to allow his voice to trail off.
A large blue automobile rounded the corner, taking the main highway toward Webster City. Both Brad and Dan recognized the driver as Paul Silverton.
“There he is now!” Brad exclaimed. “Maybe he’s driving back to his office.”
“Let’s trail