"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.

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 gra.s.s. "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 circ.u.mstantial evidence! When Dobbs told around that the Cubs had trespa.s.sed, 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."

Sunk in gloom, the two boys left the residential property, and with no destination in mind, went on down the street. The gardener's words, together with Mr. Silverton's accusations, now made everything plain.

The entire Cub organization had been incriminated on the basis of two pieces of evidence-the finding of the Wolf Cub badge near the dead pheasants, and the thoughtless display of the Indian headdress by Chips and Red.

"I knew those feathers would get us into trouble," Brad remarked glumly.

"And believe me, we're really in the soup!"

"Brad, you don't think-"

"That Chips or Red killed those birds for the feathers? No, I don't, Dan.

But Silverton's accusation is serious. We've got to see Mr. Hatfield about this right away!"

The two boys, anxious to unburden themselves, sought Mr. Hatfield at Scout Headquarters. He listened attentively to the entire report, and then surprised them by saying:

"To tell you the truth, I've been a little afraid something like this would develop."

"Then you knew about the dead pheasants?" Brad asked in amazement.

"No, but I noticed a few things at the pheasant farm which bothered me.

By the way, you told Mr. Silverton about the log jam in the creek?"

Brad and Dan gazed at each other in disgust.

"I guess we're just plain dumb," Dan apologized. "We forgot about it."

"Well, that's not surprising, considering how upset you were about Mr.

Silverton's accusations," the Cub leader said, reaching for his telephone.

"You're calling Mr. Silverton now?" asked Brad.

"No, first I want to talk to Chips and Red again. I'll ask them to come down here for a few minutes if they can."

In response to the call from the Cub leader, the other two boys made a speedy trip downtown again. Mr. Hatfield, in the presence of the four, then asked Dan to repeat the accusations made against the Cubs by the pheasant farm owner.

"First, is this your badge?" he asked Red, showing him the one Brad had brought to the office.

"It sure is!" Red cried. "Where'd you find it?"

"Mr. Silverton picked it up on his farm near a couple of dead pheasants,"

the Cub leader answered. "Red, serious accusations have been made against all the Cubs. I called you here to ask you a couple of questions."

"Shoot!" invited Red, shifting his weight uneasily.

"You and Chips showed that Indian feather headdress around at the village and elsewhere?"

"Why, yes," Red admitted. "I guess maybe we shouldn't have picked up the feathers, but we didn't see any harm in it at the time. We were kinda proud of the thing after we made it."

"Now for the second question. You boys found the feathers lying on the ground?"

"We sure did, Mr. Hatfield. I hope you don't think that either Chips or I would have taken them from live birds?"

"I'll show you the very place we picked them up," Chips added. "You can bet your life we didn't go around plucking 'em out of live birds!"

"Considering that Mr. Silverton has told the Cubs to keep off his property, I'm afraid I won't be able to see the place," Mr. Hatfield said, smiling. "But I do accept your word."

"How are we going to prove to other folks that we didn't steal the feathers?" Red demanded. "First off, I'll pitch that Indian headgear."

"No, Red. The damage has been done. Hiding the headdress now would only tend to confirm suspicions."

"You mean Chips and I can enter it in the Pack handicraft show? I'm not sure I'd want to after what's happened."

"There's plenty of time to decide that later on," Mr. Hatfield returned.

He arose from his desk, a signal that the interview was at an end.

"Meanwhile, I'll see you all at the Indian Pow Wow tomorrow night."

With the help of Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, the Den had planned its weekly meeting on an Indian theme. Midge and Fred had spent the better part of four days setting up a tepee in the Holloway back yard. The taut gunny sacking had been painted with gaudy colors in Indian designs.

"Hope it doesn't rain again and ruin the job," Midge remarked, as he surveyed his work.