Aware that Chips and Red already were worried by their mistake, the Cubs did not plague them with questions or accusations. But everyone felt depressed by the outcome of the little excursion.
“By the way,” said Mr. Holloway, as the group left the creek, “someone should mention this log jam to Mr. Silverton tomorrow. It worries me. I figure he can’t know about it, or he’d have ordered it cleared away.”
“I’ll be glad to speak of it,” offered Dan.
He fell into step with Chips and Red, who for a long while walked in gloomy silence.
“I don’t see why Silverton’s so fussy about the Cubs going into that restricted section anyhow,” Chips grumbled.
“Guess he’s afraid his special breed of Germain peacock pheasants will be disturbed,” Dan said easily.
“Sure, that’s what he told you. But why keep the Cubs out when he lets others go there?”
“What do you mean—others?”
“Well, when Red and I were picking up those feathers we heard voices back of us in the woods—men’s voices.”
“That’s right,” Red agreed. “Someone must have driven up in a car on the old logging road, because we thought we could hear an engine running on the other side of the creek.”