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 him there, and have this thing out,” Chips urged. “We ought to catch him, if we hike right back to Webster City.”

Brad however, had a better idea. Knowing that Mr. Silverton might go to his home rather than the office, he suggested that they wait fifteen minutes, and then telephone for an appointment.

“That’s the ticket!” approved Dan.

As the Cubs loitered around the village streets, they became increasingly aware of unfriendly stares directed toward them. While not everyone they met seemed hostile, now and then they were scrutinized with an intent gaze which made them uncomfortable.

“Have we got measles or something?” Red muttered.

“Someone has been doing us dirt in this town,” Brad volunteered his opinion. “And I have a hunch who it is too!”

“Saul Dobbs?” Dan demanded.

“I’m not making any accusations just yet. After we’ve talked to Mr. Silverton we may have the answer. Come on, let’s make that telephone call.”

Seeking another drugstore at the edge of the village, the Cubs dialed the number of Mr. Silverton’s office. Again they were informed he had not returned.

Brad next called the sportsman’s home. Finally, after considerable delay, he heard Mr. Silverton on the other end of the line.

“Mr. Silverton,” he began, in his eagerness, talking too rapidly. “I’m sorry to bother you at your home, but there’s an important matter the Cubs feel should be straightened out. It’s about visiting your pheasant farm—”

“You’re one of those boys who came to my office?”

“Yes, I’m Brad Wilbur.”

“Well, get this!” said Mr. Silverton speaking with biting accent “Your privileges are at an end! Now don’t bother me again!”

“Mr. Silverton, let me explain,” Brad said quickly. “I assure you we didn’t deliberately break our promise—”

“You’ll explain nothing to me,” the sportsman replied. “I’ve seen quite enough of your behavior. The Cubs may consider themselves lucky if I don’t notify their parents and the police!”

And with that remark, Mr. Silverton slammed the telephone receiver.

Brad, bewildered by the tongue lashing he had received, called the telephone number again. But Mr. Silverton would not answer.

“What did he say, Brad?” Dan demanded as the Den Chief turned to face the group of Cubs.

“Plenty! We’re to stay away from the farm.”

“It’s just like we thought,” Chips declared. “Old Dobbs got to him first and gave him a line about us.”

“I guess so,” Brad nodded gloomily. “Silverton said we could consider ourselves lucky that he hadn’t notified our parents or the police.”

“The police!” Dan burst out. “How does he figure? Even if we did make a mistake and go into the restricted area of the farm, that’s no crime! He couldn’t turn us over to Juvenile Court authorities for that, could he?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Brad said, frowning. “But there may be more to this than appears on the surface.”

“Meaning what?” demanded Red.

“Well, I don’t know. That’s what bothers me. Mr. Silverton acted as if we had done something serious. And you’ve noticed how the townsfolk here act toward us.”

“Dobbs may have been telling them tales too!” Chips said bitterly. “Why don’t we have it out with that bird?”

“If only we could see Mr. Silverton face to face, maybe we could make him understand,” Dan ventured. “Any chance he’ll talk to us?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Brad. “He slammed the receiver and now he won’t answer the ’phone.”

Leaving the drugstore, the four boys crossed the bridge and started on the long walk back to Webster City. Their spirits depressed, they had little to say.

Chips and Red were inclined to feel slightly abused. On the other hand, Brad and Dan were worried because all the Cubs had been blamed for an innocent mistake. Without question, unless the matter were cleared up, the reputation of Den 2 would severely suffer.

At Denwood Avenue, Red and Chips took leave of their companions, going to their separate homes. Brad and Dan continued toward the residential section of Brandon Heights.

“Mr. Silverton lives somewhere in this part of the city, doesn’t he?” Dan asked thoughtfully.

“256 Eagle Road,” Brad replied, recalling the number from having read it in the telephone directory.

“That’s only two streets from here. Brad, why don’t we go there and try to see him?”

“Again?” Brad kicked a pebble across the sidewalk. “What’s the use?”

“Well, I hate to give up,” Dan said doggedly. “If we’d actually done anything so bad, I’d be in favor of taking our medicine as Dobbs said. But Silverton at least ought to listen to our side of the story.”

“All right, we can try,” Brad consented, though without enthusiasm. “Maybe if we tell him about that log jam, he’ll soften up a bit.”

Two blocks farther on, the boys came to Eagle Road, an exclusive residential street in which the homes were few and far apart. High above the river valley, the large dwellings overlooked the business section of the city.

Mr. Silverton’s home near the end of the winding street, was hemmed in behind a tall privet hedge which half-hid a view of the handsome 15-room brick home. At the rear was a rose garden.

“Nice little shack Mr. Silverton has here,” Dan observed, impressed.

“A butler probably will answer the door and say his master regrets he cannot see us,” Brad declared as he unlatched the front gate.

But in walking up to the porch, Dan spied Mr. Silverton at the west side of the yard, talking to a gardener who was weeding a flower bed.

“We’re in luck, Brad!” he exclaimed. “There he is now!”

The wealthy sportsman saw the boys as they crossed the lawn. Straightening up from the flower bed, he regarded them with cold disapproval.

“Mr. Silverton, we apologize for intruding,” Brad said. “We wouldn’t have come, only we want to clear up the misunderstanding.”

“As far as I am concerned, there is no misunderstanding,” Mr. Silverton answered, starting toward the house. “I understand only too well.”

“Saul Dobbs prejudiced you against us,” Dan accused, following after the sportsman, who plainly intended to walk away from the pair.

“Prejudiced me?” Mr. Silverton paused and turned angrily toward Brad and Dan. “I saw the evidence with my own eyes!”

“Evidence?” Brad caught him up. “You mean footprints in the restricted area?”

“I mean dead pheasants. Two of my most valuable cocks imported from Burma were killed!”

“When, sir?” gasped Brad, stunned by the disclosure.

“Saul Dobbs found them yesterday not far from the creek.”

“Surely you don’t think the Cubs had anything to do with it,” said Dan in quick protest.

For reply, Mr. Silverton dug into the pocket of his sports jacket and brought forth a tarnished badge bearing the design of a wolf with two pointed ears.

“This was found close to the two dead pheasants,” he informed cuttingly. “Recognize it?”

“A wolf rank badge,” Brad admitted. “Maybe it’s the one Red lost.”

“Furthermore,” Mr. Silverton went on, “Dobbs has been making a check of the pheasants. A large number of the common variety seem to be missing. Some may have flown over the fences, but others have been taken.”

“You can’t accuse the Cubs of that!” Brad said, beginning to lose control of his temper. “After all, we were only there once, and no damage was done. Two of our Cubs by mistake entered the restricted area, but they did no harm.”

“No doubt you believe that to be true,” the sportsman said. “But this little badge proves otherwise. As I told you, it was found not far from the dead pheasants.”

“We saw no birds when we went after Chips and Red,” Brad recalled. “The pheasants must have died afterwards of a natural death.”

“Possibly so. But that’s neither here nor there. They died from having been jammed against some heavy object and bruised. Many of the tail feathers were missing.”

“Red and Chips wouldn’t have harmed any of the pheasants,” Dan insisted.

Mr. Silverton now seemed determined to bring the conversation to an end.

“How can you say what your friends did when they were out of your sight?” he demanded.

“Well, Chips and Red wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Dan said rather lamely. “After all, they’re Cubs.”

“And Cubs need feathers for Indian headgears!” Mr. Silverton retorted.

Having delivered this parting shot, he dropped the Wolf badge at Dan’s feet, and without another word, walked into the house.