“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.”
CHAPTER 5
A Flash of Light
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