The elevator man, observing the despairing look of the two boys, deliberately let the lift slide past the second floor level.
“Sorry, sir,” he said, fumbling with the levers. “Too late, sir.”
“Mr. Silverton, you’ve got to listen!” Dan went on desperately. “The creek’s rising fast out at your farm! With that dam across the stream, it may flood the pheasant runs.”
At last he had gained Mr. Silverton’s attention.
“Dam?” the sportsman demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Logs have jammed across the creek, sir. Mr. Hatfield, our Cub leader, said if it rained hard, water would be almost certain to back up and flood.”
“A trucker told us the area up in the hills had a regular cloud burst,” Brad added. “When that water gets down here, adding to what we’ve already had, the creek will come up fast.”
The elevator had halted at the first floor and the cage door slid open. But Mr. Silverton had lost his desire to elude the boys.
“Saul Dobbs told me nothing about the stream being clogged,” he said, looking worried. “How long has this condition existed?”
“We noticed the logs on our visit to your farm several days ago,” Brad said. “We wanted to tell you then, but you wouldn’t talk to us.”