Part 12 (1/2)

”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.