CHAPTER 4 Useful Information

“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.”