receptionist looked somewhat startled. Having no idea what the boys were talking about, she shook her head.
“I positively cannot disturb Mr. Silverton now,” she said. “If you want to wait on the chance he’ll see you when he comes out, you may.”
“How long will that be?” Dan asked.
“Mr. Silverton usually leaves his office at four-thirty.”
“That’s fifteen minutes yet,” Brad said, glancing anxiously at the wall clock. “We shouldn’t delay. Please—”
“I’ve already explained that I cannot disturb Mr. Silverton. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
The receptionist busied herself typing a letter. However, the boys saw her gaze with disapproval at the enlarging pool of water which dripped from their slickers onto the floor.
At intervals, Dan and Brad would get up from the bench and go to the window. Fifteen minutes already had elapsed. And still Mr. Silverton’s office door remained closed.
Then at twenty minutes to five, when the Cubs had nearly given up hope, the sportsman unexpectedly walked out of his inner office. He wore his hat and coat and would have passed through without speaking to anyone, had not the receptionist stopped him.
“Mr. Silverton, these boys have been waiting a long while to see you,” she informed the pheasant farm owner. “They are quite insistent that it is important.”
The sportsman gazed at Brad and Dan, and appeared to look straight through them.
Deliberately turning his back, he then strode toward the outer door.
The Cubs had no intention of allowing him so easily to elude them.
“Please, Mr. Silverton, we must see you for a minute!” Dan exclaimed, starting after him.
The sportsman acted as if he had not heard the appeal. Walking rapidly, he continued toward the elevator.
Rebuffed, but nevertheless determined that Mr. Silverton should listen, the two boys pursued him down the hall.
“Mr. Silverton, listen to us just for a moment—” Brad began, but the stock broker cut him short.
“Pests!” he exclaimed. “Unless you cease annoying me, I’ll turn you over to a policeman. I’ve had quite enough of Cub Scouts!”
By this time the elevator had stopped at the third floor. Glaring angrily at Brad and Dan, Mr. Silverton entered the cage.
But not alone.
Stung by the sportman’s bitter words, the two boys crowded in with him. The cage door closed.
“Mr. Silverton,” Dan said, gazing directly at the sportsman. “We’re sorry to force ourselves upon you. But I’m afraid you’ll have to listen to us now.”
“Oh, I will, eh?” Mr. Silverton demanded. “We’ll see about that!” He rapped his cane sharply on the floor of the cage door. “Attendant, let me out of here!”
However, he spoke too late, for already the elevator was moving slowly downward.
CHAPTER 10
The Cubs Lend A Hand
“Mr. Silverton,” Dan began, speaking rapidly because he knew he had only a moment in which to present his case. “It’s about your pheasants—”
“Attendant, stop the elevator at the second floor,” the sportsman directed the operator of the cage. “I’ll walk!”
The elevator man, observing the despairing look of the two boys, deliberately let the lift slide past the second floor level.
“Sorry, sir,” he said, fumbling with the levers. “Too late, sir.”
“Mr. Silverton, you’ve got to listen!” Dan went on desperately. “The creek’s rising fast out at your farm! With that dam across the stream, it may flood the pheasant runs.”
At last he had gained Mr. Silverton’s attention.
“Dam?” the sportsman demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Logs have jammed across the creek, sir. Mr. Hatfield, our Cub leader, said if it rained hard, water would be almost certain to back up and flood.”
“A trucker told us the area up in the hills had a regular cloud burst,” Brad added. “When that water gets down here, adding to what we’ve already had, the creek will come up fast.”
The elevator had halted at the first floor and the cage door slid open. But Mr. Silverton had lost his desire to elude the boys.
“Saul Dobbs told me nothing about the stream being clogged,” he said, looking worried. “How long has this condition existed?”
“We noticed the logs on our visit to your farm several days ago,” Brad said. “We wanted to tell you then, but you wouldn’t talk to us.”
“Humph! I haven’t forgotten a certain little matter still between us.” Mr. Silverton’s pouchy face again became frozen and unfriendly. He turned to leave the elevator, saying in curt dismissal: “Well, thanks for telling me.”
“But sir!” exclaimed Brad. “Don’t you think—that is—shouldn’t you try to do something to save the pheasants?”
“Saul Dobbs can be depended upon to look after my interests. Should any emergency develop at the farm, he’ll get in touch with me.”
“But that’s just the point, Mr. Silverton,” Dan interposed. “Dobbs isn’t on the farm.”
Mr. Silverton now gave the boys his complete attention.
“Not there?” he demanded. “How do you know?”
Dan related the information given to him by the operator of the filling station. At last he saw that the sportsman was beginning to be disturbed.
“If Dobbs isn’t at the farm, that changes the picture!” Mr. Silverton exclaimed. “With the creek rising, the pheasants easily could be endangered! Why did Dobbs go away without notifying me?”
Neither Dan nor Brad made any attempt to answer. Nor did Mr. Silverton expect them to do so, for he seemed to be thinking aloud.
“I’ll drive out there right away and see what’s happening! Will you boys come with me? I’ll need you to point out where the gorge is choked.”
“Sure, we’ll be glad to go!” Brad agreed quickly.
Mr. Silverton led the way to a nearby parking lot where he kept his automobile. At a fast clip they drove over the slippery pavement to the pheasant farm.
En route, they encountered two areas where fast-running ditch water had overflowed the road. However, they were not too deep to prevent the car from getting through.
“I
