“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.”