Part 2 (2/2)
”That we were trespa.s.sers?” Dan supplied.
”Exactly. If Mr. Silverton had given us permission to have visited the farm, then we'd have been within our rights.”
”It was my fault,” Mr. Holloway took the blame. ”I should have telephoned Silverton. Instead, I took it for granted we'd see him at the farm and that he'd give his okay.”
”Considering that he's the foreman, I suppose Dobbs had a right to order us off the property,” Brad said. ”But it was the way he did it that got under my skin.”
”The point is, do we have to take it like meek little lambs?” Red demanded. ”I'm for having it out with him.”
”Here too,” chimed in Mack. ”Where can we find Mr. Silverton?”
”That's what I don't know,” admitted the Cub leader. ”We might be able to get some information in the village.”
”Let's go there now,” Midge proposed. ”Can't we buy something at one of the stores as an excuse for asking a few questions?”
The proposal appealed to the other Cubs and to Mr. Hatfield and Midge's father as well. Accordingly, they hiked the half mile to the village of Camden across the river from Webster City where nearly all of the boys lived.
Having purchased supplies several times before in the town, the Cubs created little interest as they tramped into Barker's General Store.
”What'll it be this time?” the genial storekeeper inquired after he had waited on his other customers.
Noticing that the fruit looked appetizing, Mr. Hatfield said he would take two dozen of the fresh pears.
”Flour? Beef? Bacon?”
”Not today. We're well supplied. Matter of fact, we crossed the river more for the excursion than anything else. This rain has kept us rather closely confined.”
”Sure, the weather has been against you,” the storekeeper agreed as he weighed the fruit. ”We're due for a turn though.”
Skillfully, Mr. Hatfield directed the conversation along the line he wished it to take.
”The Cubs were saying this morning they'd like to visit Silverton's pheasant farm. By the way, who is in charge there?”
”A fellow by the name of Dobbs-Saul Dobbs. He looks after the place for Mr. Silverton. A rather disagreeable customer, I'm told.”
”I take it he doesn't like visitors at the farm?”
”He drives 'em off,” the storekeeper said, handing Mr. Hatfield his change.
”On orders from Mr. Silverton?”
”That I wouldn't know. But Silverton seems like a fairly decent sort of chap. Friendly and approachable.”
”He doesn't live at the pheasant farm?”
”No, in Webster City. Has an office in the Gardner Building there. On nice weekends, he drives out to the pheasant farm to look it over, but mostly he lets Dobbs run the place.”
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