“Fine!” he praised. “You boys must have put up a good argument. We’ll plan a trip to the farm tomorrow if the weather permits.”
The following morning, cheered by a warm sun which rapidly dried the damp trails, the Cubs set off for the Silverton Pheasant farm with Sam Hatfield and Midge’s father.
“Remember, gang,” the Cub leader warned as he paused on the path where the party had met Saul Dobbs the previous day. “We’re here on trial. Mr. Silverton will toss us out in nothing flat if we wander into forbidden areas. Everyone got that straight?”
To make certain that all the Cubs understood, Dan passed out the map which Mr. Silverton had given him the previous day.
“This section along Crooked Creek near the main road and the river is taboo,” he said, outlining it with his finger tip.
“Wonder why Silverton doesn’t want us to go there?” speculated Red.
“Because he keeps his fancy pheasants in that area,” Dan explained. “The point is, Brad and I gave our promise the Cubs will stay away from the marked section.”
“We will,” said Midge. “You don’t have to worry.”
The Cubs moved single file along the narrow woodland trail, noticing many fine oak, white elm, ash and birch trees.
“Say, we could get wood here for some dandy Indian bows and arrows!” Fred exclaimed enthusiastically. “Wonder if Mr. Silverton would mind?”
“We’ll not cut any wood without first asking permission,” said the Cub leader to his son. “And no playful whacks at any of the bushes,” he added, glancing at Chips who was known to have an itchy hand with a belt axe.
At a brisk pace, Mr. Hatfield led the Cubs on, crossing a creek at a footbridge. Soon he came to an open space which permitted a view of the Silverton barn, the hatchery, the holding pens and a small dwelling, evidently the cottage where Saul Dobbs lived.
Beyond the mesh enclosed pens, a field had been planted in cover strips of sorghum grass.
“Oh! Oh!” muttered Dan under his breath. “Here comes Old Man Trouble himself!”
Saul Dobbs, who had been interrupted as he clipped the wings of a blue-breasted pheasant, trod angrily toward the Cubs.
In his gnarled hands he still held the beautiful bird, whose handsome red neck feathers shaded off into a long silver white tail.