“You can’t accuse the Cubs of that!” Brad said, beginning to lose control of his temper. “After all, we were only there once, and no damage was done. Two of our Cubs by mistake entered the restricted area, but they did no harm.”
“No doubt you believe that to be true,” the sportsman said. “But this little badge proves otherwise. As I told you, it was found not far from the dead pheasants.”
“We saw no birds when we went after Chips and Red,” Brad recalled. “The pheasants must have died afterwards of a natural death.”
“Possibly so. But that’s neither here nor there. They died from having been jammed against some heavy object and bruised. Many of the tail feathers were missing.”
“Red and Chips wouldn’t have harmed any of the pheasants,” Dan insisted.
Mr. Silverton now seemed determined to bring the conversation to an end.
“How can you say what your friends did when they were out of your sight?” he demanded.
“Well, Chips and Red wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Dan said rather lamely. “After all, they’re Cubs.”
“And Cubs need feathers for Indian headgears!” Mr. Silverton retorted.
Having delivered this parting shot, he dropped the Wolf badge at Dan’s feet, and without another word, walked into the house.