“The water could back up fast in event of a real flood,” agreed Mr. Holloway, following the Cub leader’s thought. “Fortunately, the rains seem to have let up.”
“We’re not far from the pheasant runs,” Sam Hatfield said, thinking aloud. “If I were in Saul Dobbs’ place, I’d clear away those logs. Perhaps there’s no danger. But it strikes me considerable damage might be done if the water should back up any distance.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know about the jam,” suggested Brad.
“That may be,” nodded the Cub leader. “However, some of those logs look as if they’ve been here quite a while.”
Dan, noticing that the logs formed a perfect bridge across the stream, started to walk across. The Cub leader called him back.
“Say, Dan,” he said, “let me see that map Mr. Silverton marked for you.”
“Sure.”
Leaping down from the log, Dan fished the paper from his pocket. While the Cubs peered over his shoulder, Mr. Hatfield spread it out on the ground.
“We’re very close to the area Mr. Silverton marked as restricted,” the Cub leader declared. “Directly across the stream is an abandoned logging road which joins the main highway along the river. This map shows the old road fenced off—”
The Cubs waited, but Mr. Hatfield did not complete what he had started to say. Instead, he stared at the log jam, lost in deep thought.