Few lights showed along the dark shore as Mr. Hatfield silently plied the oars. The boat spurted along, propelled by powerful strokes. Nearby, a sizeable fish leaped from the swift moving water, and fell back with a splash.
Hunched into their jackets, Dan and Brad speculated upon what the Cub leader might expect to see or find once they reached the old logging road.
“Maybe we have no business going there,” Mr. Hatfield said presently, swerving the boat toward shore, “but I figure it this way. The Cubs are under suspicion, and it’s up to us to clear our name if we can.”
“You think someone may be sneaking into Silverton’s place at night and taking pheasants?” Dan guessed. “Then we get the blame!”
“It’s an angle I intend to investigate,” Mr. Hatfield admitted. “In looking around though, we’ll have to respect Mr. Silverton’s order not to trespass.”
“In that case, it may not be easy to learn anything,” Brad said, a little disappointed.
Without replying, the Cub leader eased the boat in until it grated on the beach. Brad and Dan leaped out into the wet sand, and with Mr. Hatfield’s aid, pulled the craft well beyond reach of the greedy waves.
The three hid the oars in a clump of bushes and set off at a fast walk toward the exit of the old logging road.
As they approached the log fence barrier, Dan suddenly halted.
“Say, isn’t that a car coming out of the road now?” he demanded.