“Where shall we take the pheasants?” the Cub leader asked, quickly surveying the situation.
“I think the barn is the best place,” Mr. Silverton decided. “Turn them loose there. The water shouldn’t come that high.”
“Get busy, boys,” Mr. Hatfield instructed the Cubs.
Handling the crates carefully, the boys carried them one by one to the barn. There, after making certain the doors and windows all were closed, they set the startled birds free on the ground floor.
Meanwhile, along the pheasant runs, Mr. Silverton aided by Brad and Mr. Hatfield, had been collecting the traps. As rapidly as the pheasants were caught, the Cubs carried them to the barn where they milled with the others.
“We’ve done all we can here,” Mr. Silverton decided as deepening shadows made it difficult to locate straggling pheasants. “Some will take refuge in the trees and bushes.”
“The water’s still coming higher,” Mr. Hatfield observed as he prepared to move his car. “If the gorge were cleared out, the level should drop fast.”
“Let’s see what can be done,” Mr. Silverton proposed.
Both men moved their cars to higher ground lest flood waters continue to rise. Then, followed by the Cubs, they circled around to the old logging road, approaching the dam from the upper and drier side.
“Why Dobbs would leave a mess like that in the stream, I can’t figure!” Mr. Silverton exclaimed in disgust as he caught sight of the jam. “He must have known about it, but he never spoke of it to me.”