“Attendant, stop the elevator at the second floor,” the sportsman directed the operator of the cage. “I’ll walk!”
The elevator man, observing the despairing look of the two boys, deliberately let the lift slide past the second floor level.
“Sorry, sir,” he said, fumbling with the levers. “Too late, sir.”
“Mr. Silverton, you’ve got to listen!” Dan went on desperately. “The creek’s rising fast out at your farm! With that dam across the stream, it may flood the pheasant runs.”
At last he had gained Mr. Silverton’s attention.
“Dam?” the sportsman demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Logs have jammed across the creek, sir. Mr. Hatfield, our Cub leader, said if it rained hard, water would be almost certain to back up and flood.”
“A trucker told us the area up in the hills had a regular cloud burst,” Brad added. “When that water gets down here, adding to what we’ve already had, the creek will come up fast.”
The elevator had halted at the first floor and the cage door slid open. But Mr. Silverton had lost his desire to elude the boys.
“Saul Dobbs told me nothing about the stream being clogged,” he said, looking worried. “How long has this condition existed?”
“We noticed the logs on our visit to your farm several days ago,” Brad said. “We wanted to tell you then, but you wouldn’t talk to us.”
“Humph! I haven’t forgotten a certain little matter still between us.” Mr. Silverton’s pouchy face again became frozen and unfriendly. He turned to leave the elevator, saying in curt dismissal: “Well, thanks for telling me.”
“But sir!” exclaimed Brad. “Don’t you think—that is—shouldn’t you try to do something to save the pheasants?”
“Saul Dobbs can be depended upon to look after my interests. Should any emergency develop at the farm, he’ll get in touch with me.”
“But that’s just the point, Mr. Silverton,” Dan interposed. “Dobbs isn’t on the farm.”
Mr. Silverton now gave the boys his complete attention.
“Not there?” he demanded. “How do you know?”
Dan related the information given to him by the operator of the filling station. At last he saw that the sportsman was beginning to be disturbed.
“If Dobbs isn’t at the farm, that changes the picture!” Mr. Silverton exclaimed. “With the creek rising, the pheasants easily could be endangered! Why did Dobbs go away without notifying me?”
Neither Dan nor Brad made any attempt to answer. Nor did Mr. Silverton expect them to do so, for he seemed to be thinking aloud.
“I’ll drive out there right away and see what’s happening! Will you boys come with me? I’ll need you to point out where the gorge is choked.”
“Sure, we’ll be glad to go!” Brad agreed quickly.
Mr. Silverton led the way to a nearby parking lot where he kept his automobile. At a fast clip they drove over the slippery pavement to the pheasant farm.
En route, they encountered two areas where fast-running ditch water had overflowed the road. However, they were not too deep to prevent the car from getting through.
“I had no idea the rain was so heavy,” Mr. Silverton commented. “Of all times for Dobbs to leave the farm unattended this takes the prize!”
The drive to the farm offered the two boys an excellent opportunity to explain to Mr. Silverton again that the Cub Scouts never had intended to break any of the rules laid down by him.
Delicacy however, prevented them from bringing up the subject. Mr. Silverton seemed so worried and absorbed in his thoughts that they decided any discussion of the matter or apology must wait until after the present emergency.
As the big blue car descended the private gravel road and presently emerged at the cleared area of the pheasant farm, Brad and Dan saw that they had not exaggerated the situation. It was even worse than they had anticipated.
Already an ugly line of murky water had spread through the woodlands to the lower level areas. The hatching yard in the grove was covered with an inch of water. Overflow from the creek slowly nibbled at the walks leading to the house and to the barn on somewhat higher ground.
“Dobbs!” Mr. Silverton shouted. “Are you here?”
Receiving no answer, the sportsman parked his car some distance behind the barn and ran to the house. All the doors were locked.
“You were right!” Mr. Silverton said to the Cubs. “Dobbs has gone off, apparently for the day!”
“And the water’s creeping up fast,” Brad said, gazing anxiously at the pheasant pens which already were beginning to flood.
“A nice mess!” the sportsman muttered. “Half of my pheasants will be lost if I don’t get them out of the fields.”
“Can’t we help?” Dan offered.
“Yes, I’ll need you and anyone else I can get. This will be a big job. We’ve got to work fast to keep ahead of the rising water.”
Smashing a glass pane at the rear door of the foreman’s dwelling, Mr. Silverton went inside to telephone.
“I’m trying to round up men,” he explained a few minutes later to Brad and Dan. “But at best it will take an hour for anyone to get here. And it’s an awkward time—close to the dinner hour.”
“All the Cubs would help if I could get word to them,” Dan said eagerly.
“I can use anyone, and I’ll pay well for the work. The vital thing is to get help fast.”
“Say, Mr. Hatfield should be showing up at the old logging road exit to relieve us of our stint!” Brad exclaimed. “Dan, if you could reach him—”
“I’ll go after him,” Dan agreed instantly. “If he isn’t there, I’ll call him from the filling station.”
“If you cut through the woods, be careful not to be trapped by the flood waters,” Mr. Silverton warned as Dan started away. “Keep well to the north of the creek.”
Leaving Brad to help the sportsman, Dan set off through the woods at a fast dog trot.
Shadows were deepening among the trees, but he kept his sense of direction. Circling around the flooded area, he struck the logging road at a point well beyond the clogged point of the stream.
To the right he could hear the rush and roar of the torrent which raced toward the river. Unless the log jam gave away or the crest of the flood was soon past, he knew that in a short while the entire side road would be under water.
His shoes and clothing caked with mud, Dan presently came out at the rail fence barrier. A familiar looking car, which had pulled up on the other side of the paved highway, was just starting away.
“That’s Mr. Hatfield’s automobile!” Dan thought. “If only I can catch him before he drives away!”
Scrambling over the rail barrier, he shouted the Cub leader’s name. In the act of shifting gears, Mr. Hatfield heard the boy and turned his head.
Seeing Dan, he quickly switched off the engine and ran to the fence.
“Where’s Brad?” he asked anxiously. “When the storm broke so suddenly, I came out here as fast as I could. Had a flat tire on the way, which held me up. Is Brad all right?”
“He’s with Mr. Silverton,” Dan replied, and poured out his story of Dobbs’