the young woman through a door with frosted glass into a large comfortable room with thick carpet.
A stout, slightly bald man of nervous manner sat behind a massive mahogany desk.
“Yes?” he inquired, his tone implying that he expected the pair to state the purpose of their call as briefly as possible. And then, noticing their uniforms, he inquired: “Boy Scouts?”
“Brad is,” Dan corrected politely. “I’m a Cub, Wolf rank.”
“A Cub, eh?” Mr. Silverton repeated. “Is that something new in Scouting?”
“It’s a program somewhat similar to scouting only for younger boys and the whole family—Mothers and Dads,” explained Brad.
“You have an organization motto? All that sort of thing?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” informed Dan eagerly. “Our motto is: ‘Do your best.’ Every Bobcat who joins the organization also promises to be Square and to obey the Law of the Cub Pack.”
“Interesting. Most interesting,” said the stock broker. He doodled figures on a scratch pad. “But what brings you here, may I inquire?”
“The Cubs would like to ask permission to visit your pheasant farm,” Brad explained.
Mr. Silverton frowned at the request. “My foreman, Saul Dobbs, informs me that recently some of the pheasants have been stolen,” he said discouragingly. “Furthermore, boys have been sneaking in and scaring the birds.”
“Not the Cubs, sir,” said Dan earnestly.
“Perhaps not, but my pheasants represent a considerable investment. I can’t risk losing choice birds. I’m sorry, but if Dobbs told you to stay out, I’m afraid I’ll have to back him up.”
Dan and Brad exchanged a startled glance. Instantly it dawned upon them that the foreman already had prejudiced his employer against the Cubs.
“Dobbs told you about our visit this morning?” Dan asked.
“Yes, he telephoned to report you were there. He said you were quite insistent upon seeing the farm.”
“But, sir, that wasn’t exactly true,” Brad denied. “We were all walking along the trail, when up pops Mr. Dobbs with his revolver. He told us to leave, so we did, without any argument. Mr. Hatfield and Midge’s father were along and they’ll back me up in the statement.”
“You say Dobbs threatened you with a revolver?” Mr. Silverton asked, displeased.
“He didn’t exactly threaten us,” Dan answered truthfully. “He just put his hand on the holster to let us know he meant business.”
“We wouldn’t have turned-tail only we’re law abiding and we knew we had no right on the property without your consent,” added Brad.
The straightforward presentation seemed to impress the stock broker, for after a moment’s thought, he asked: “How many boys in your troop?”
“Six in the den, not counting myself,” Brad said. “All the boys are strictly reliable. It’s one of the rules of the Cubs that we strive to give good will.”
“Cubs believe in being honorable,” Dan added, observing that Mr. Silverton was wavering. “You can depend on us not to damage anything on your farm.”
“And why are you so set upon visiting the place?”
“Your preserve has some of the best woodland in the county,” said Brad.
“Pheasants are incidental? You wouldn’t by chance be wanting to set Saul Dobbs in his place?”
Dan and Brad looked at each other and grinned. “I guess that does enter into it, sir,” Brad said truthfully. “He was rather unpleasant and it burned us up.”
“Can’t say I blame you for your feelings. At times, Dobbs is inclined to become somewhat officious. When I gave him permission to carry a revolver, I didn’t expect him to use it to frighten boys.”
“We weren’t exactly alarmed,” Brad said. “It was more annoying than anything else.”
“You boys impress me favorably,” Mr. Silverton continued. “Dobbs, I think, gave me a wrong slant on the situation. Now, suppose I should agree to allow the Cubs to visit the farm. Will you promise to follow the rules?”
“We will, sir,” declared Dan eagerly. “I’ll guarantee it.”
“Then take a look at this map,” said the sportsman, whipping a small one from the top desk drawer. “All the trails on my property are marked. Now, you may visit the barns, the pheasant runs and the central area near the foreman’s house. But this breeding ground, where we keep the Germain peacock pheasant, is restricted.”
Mr. Silverton etched in a small section along the river and highway. “You agree to stay out of this area?” he asked again.
“We’ve already given our promise,” said Brad.
“Good. Then take this map along,” Mr. Silverton said, thrusting it into Dan’s hand. “Good afternoon, boys.”
Fingering the map, Dan remained facing the sportsman. “Please, sir—”
“Yes, what is it now?”
“May we have a paper, or some authorization? Saul Dobbs may not be willing to take our word—”
“Yes, to be sure,” Mr. Silverton said hurriedly. He scribbled a brief note on a memorandum sheet which bore his printed name.
“This will take care of it,” he said. “You should have no trouble from now on with Dobbs.”
“I’m sure we won’t,” said Dan, pocketing the order.
“But remember,” Mr. Silverton warned as the boys turned to leave, “you’re on trial. If any of the Cubs disobey instructions, your privileges will end. Now get along with you. I have work to do.”
CHAPTER 3
Stragglers
Jubilant at having obtained permission to visit the Silverton Pheasant Farm, Dan and Brad told Mr. Holloway the good news when he came for them twenty minutes later.
“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
