“How do you figure all this?” Brad asked earnestly. “Do you think those men, whoever they are, may be stealing pheasants and maybe shipping them out of here?”
“Could be, Brad. At any rate. I’m convinced Mr. Silverton doesn’t know this road is being used at night.”
“I wish we could keep watch and find out who comes here,” Dan proposed. “Maybe the Cubs could divide up into pairs and take turns staying here.”
“All night? Afraid your parents wouldn’t approve, Dan.”
“Whoever comes, seems to arrive fairly early in the evening,” Brad pointed out. “These summer nights it doesn’t get dark until about nine o’clock.”
“So you’re siding with Dan?” Mr. Hatfield said, chuckling.
“The Cubs would get a big kick out of keeping watch of this place, sir. Even if they only kept a daytime patrol.”
“We might learn something at that,” Mr. Hatfield conceded. “Well, I’ll talk to the fathers of the Cubs to see what they say. Meanwhile, let’s forget about that station wagon.”
As the three rowed downstream to the Holloway cabin a little later, they noticed that the moon again was veiled by dark clouds. Even as they reached the dock, a few splatters of rain stirred the water.
“Here it comes again,” Mr. Hatfield sighed. “This has been one of the wettest seasons in my recollection.”