“You must have good ears,” Dan said. “We didn’t hear any car. Or any voices either.”
Mr. Hatfield, who had been walking ahead, had overheard Red’s remark. Dropping back, he fell into step with the Cubs, listening rather attentively. Being a native, he knew that section very well.
“That old logging road hasn’t been used in years and has been allowed to grow up in weeds,” he said, thinking aloud. “I was told the sportsman fenced it off where it crosses the main highway. When the pavement went in three years ago, it nipped off the terminal of the logging road.”
“Maybe Dobbs or some of the workmen drove a car back in there,” Dan remarked.
“It wasn’t Dobbs,” Red insisted. “He has a gruff, husky voice. There were two men. One spoke in a high, almost squeaky voice, and the other was just a mumble.”
“Did you see the men or hear what they were saying?” Mr. Hatfield asked Red.
“No, we didn’t pay too much attention. Anyway, they were off quite a distance. But if Silverton lets others go into that section, I don’t see why he hangs barbed wire around us!”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Mr. Hatfield replied. “We gave our promise to stay away from the restricted area, and we broke it.”
“Chips and I already have said we’d explain to him,” Red mumbled, accepting the rebuke.
Without meeting Saul Dobbs, the Cubs returned to the river’s edge. Mr. Holloway took the first boatload of boys across to the cabin. Mr. Hatfield made the second trip, finally coming back for Brad and Dan, the only ones left on the far shore.