suspicious.”
“Mack and Chips took care of that. They put the brush back in place. The only thing that might give us away unless we’re seen, are footprints. And it’s too dark to make them out now.”
“Listen!” Dan warned, grasping Brad’s hand. “I can hear someone coming up the path now.”
“Duck!” Red advised, taking shelter in the thicket.
Brad started to follow his example, then thought of something.
“That crate of pheasants!” he whispered to Dan. “Help me with it.”
Dan could not guess what the Den Chief intended to do, but there was no time to ask questions. As Brad carefully swung open the door, he lifted out the crate.
“Easy, so those birds don’t start squawking,” Brad cautioned. “Shift it into the bushes.”
With Red’s help, Dan lifted the crate back out of sight. Meanwhile, Brad had closed the door of the lean-to.
The approaching footfalls and murmur of voices now were very close.
Flattening himself on the ground, Brad crawled into the bushes, disappearing into their shelter just as two men entered the clearing.
CHAPTER 12
A Crate of Pheasants
In the indistinct light, the Cubs scarcely could distinguish the features of the two strangers.
Both were dressed in rough clothing and high rubber boots. The taller of the pair wore a large-brimmed felt hat which completely hid his face.
The other, whom the Cubs never before had seen, was stockily built, muscular, and walked with a heavy tread.
Neither of the men spoke as they moved directly to the lean-to. The taller of the pair opened the creaking door and peered inside.
“Nothing here!” he exclaimed. “Not a single crate!”
“Are you sure?” the other demanded, looking for himself. “Then we’ve been double crossed!”
“Looks like it, Jake,” the other muttered, angrily slamming shut the door. “He told us he’d leave the birds here, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He telephoned me at my home early this morning and said everything was set. Figure he pulled a fast one?”
“Unless the storm coming up kept him from leaving the birds here.”
“Maybe, but I got my doubts,” the other rejoined. “For a long time now, he’s been trying to crawl out of this business. The yellow livered dog is afraid of being caught.”
“We’ve got to put the screws on him harder then. Lately, he ain’t been delivering enough to hardly make it worth while.”
Still talking, the two men started to move away from the lean-to. At that instant Red, who was nearly paralyzed from having remained so long in the same position, shifted slightly.
A stick beneath his body crackled, in the stillness of the forest, snapping like a tiny firecracker.
“What was that, Jake?”
“Didn’t hear anything,” the other man replied, but he stopped to listen.
In the bushes behind the lean-to, the three Cubs sucked in their breath and waited tensely.
“Thought I heard someone back there in the brush,” the heavy-set man declared. “I think I’ll take a look.”
He started toward the bushes where the three Cubs had gone into hiding with the crate of pheasants.
“Aw, come on,” the other said impatiently. “It’s getting late and the creek’s still rising. If we don’t get back, we might be trapped on this side of the stream.”
“Oh, all right,” his companion agreed. “But I’d have sworn I heard something.”
To the relief of the three Cubs, the pair with no further conversation, walked rapidly away.
Red, Dan and Brad waited until they were certain there was no risk of the two men returning. Then they came out of their hiding place.
“What do you make of it, Brad?” Dan asked, keeping his voice low. “Ever see those two before?”
“Never! They came here expecting to find that crate of pheasants.”
“Saul Dobbs must have left them in the lean-to,” Dan speculated. “Brad, he’s cheating Mr. Silverton—and then trying to throw the blame on the Cubs!”
“He may be in on some sort of crooked deal,” Brad said slowly. “But we’re jumping to pretty fancy conclusions. After all, we don’t have any real evidence.”
“We heard what those two men said,” Brad declared excitedly.
“Sure,” said Brad evenly, “but they didn’t mention any names.”
“One called the other Jake,” Dan recalled. “Of course, that’s not much to go on.”
“Saul Dobbs’ name wasn’t spoken,” Brad went on. “We don’t like the man, so naturally we decide he’s in on something shady.”
“What do you think we should do?” Dan asked, willing to follow the older boy’s advice.
“I don’t know whether we should make any accusations or not,” Brad returned doubtfully. “One can’t go around accusing persons on flimsy evidence. I guess the best thing to do is saying nothing until we’ve had a chance to report this to Mr. Hatfield.”
“What about this crate of pheasants?” Dan asked. “Shall we put it back in the lean-to?”
“I don’t like to do that. Those birds need food and water right now.”
“Why not take ’em to the barn and turn them loose with the other pheasants?” Dan suggested. “Then we can explain to Mr. Silverton later on, if we need to.”
“That’s a good idea!” approved Brad. “Come on, let’s move along and find out what’s happened to Chips.”
Carrying the crate of pheasants, the three retraced their way along the dark path. At the masked entrance, there was no sign of Chips.
Brad whistled softly and the boys came quickly out of hiding.
“Where did those men go after they left here?” Brad questioned. “Did you see ’em?”
“Sure,” Chips answered, staring at the crate of pheasants which Red and Dan carried between them. “They were plenty mad about something too!”
“But which way did they go?”
“Back toward the log jam and the road.”
“I
