CHAPTER 7
A Night Excursion
Brad and Dan were too stunned by Mr. Silverton’s final accusation to make any attempt to follow him toward the house.
As they stood gazing after the sportsman, the gardener in an attempt to soften his employer’s dismissal, said kindly:
“Mr. Silverton’s out of sorts today, lads. It was a blow to him losing those pheasants. He sets great store by ’em.”
“We told him the truth,” Brad said, stooping to pick up the Wolf badge from the grass. “The Cubs never intended to break any rules. As for killing the pheasants—well, I can’t believe it!”
The gardener leaned comfortably on his hoe. “It’s like the boss said,” he observed. “You may be honest and square yourselves, but how can you vouch for your friends? You didn’t see what they did while they were alone?”
“No, but—”
“And showing those Indian feathers at the village the way they did,” the gardener went on. “Why, it was circumstantial evidence! When Dobbs told around that the Cubs had trespassed, it was only natural folks would put two and two together.”
“So that was what Mr. Silverton meant when he spoke of the Indian headdress,” Brad muttered. “And it explains why the villagers gave us such icy looks today! The Cubs are in Dutch everywhere.”
“It makes me sick,” Dan said in disgust. “Come on, Brad.”