Accusations
“So you’ve been stealing pheasants while I was away!” the workman accused
the startled boys. “This time you won’t get off with excuses! I’m turning
you over to the police on a delinquency charge!”
Saul Dobbs set the lighted lantern on the floor and moved toward Brad and
Dan. Before he could lay hands upon them, the barn door creaked behind
the foreman.
“What’s going on here?” demanded a familiar voice.
Dobbs whirled around to see Mr. Silverton and Sam Hatfield standing
directly behind him.
“I caught ’em this time, Mr. Silverton,” the workman said in keen
satisfaction. “When I found ’em here, they were stealing the pheasants.”
“Idiot!” Mr. Silverton reprimanded him. “If it hadn’t been for the Cubs,
two thirds of my pheasants would have drowned. Where, may I ask, have you
been?”
Dobbs lost some of his assurance. “Why, I drove into town for a few
minutes,” he stammered. “The storm came up suddenly. As soon as I could
get back here—”
“It’s taken you long enough,” Mr. Silverton retorted. “Your job was to
stay here. Where were you?”
“Why, I—that is—I had an appointment with a friend. It—it was just
personal business.”
“And while you were attending to your personal business, the pheasant
runs were flooding. You knew that the creek was choked with logs and
debris?”
“Why—no.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Silverton pinned him down. “The Cubs discovered it
on their first visit here. Unless the dam is dynamited, the water will
keep rising for hours.”
“I’ll see what can be done right away,” Dobbs said, reaching for the
lantern.
As he stooped, his gaze fell upon the shipping crate which Dan and Brad
had deposited on the floor only a few minutes before. His attention
fastened upon it only momentarily, and then deliberately he looked away.
However, both Brad and Dan had seen the glance, and it dawned upon them
that the foreman had knowledge of the crate having been left in the
lean-to.
Despite the urgency of getting back to the creek to dynamite the log jam,
Brad determined to bring up the matter then and there.
“Dan and I very easily can explain why we’re here—” he began, only to
have Mr. Silverton interrupt.
“There’s no need for you to explain to Dobbs, boys.”
“But we feel you should know, sir,” Dan broke in. “We brought two cocks
which we found across the creek in a shipping crate.”
“In a shipping crate?” the owner of the pheasant farm repeated in a
puzzled voice.
Dan explained how he and Brad had come upon the hidden path, and of
seeing the two strangers who had complained of being double-crossed when
they failed to find the crated pheasants.
“Dobbs, what do you know of this matter?” his employer demanded severely.
“Why, not a thing.” The foreman laughed nervously. “Not a thing. We built
a little lean-to about a year ago where I sometimes keep a few tools.
Haven’t used it in months or been near there.”
“You told me nothing of having built the shack, Dobbs. In fact, I find
there are many things you neglected to report. Who are the men who have
been trespassing on my property?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Dobbs whined. “I’ve never seen anyone use the old
logging road.”
“No mention was made of anyone using it,” Brad tripped him up. “However,
that’s how they have been coming here—down the road at night, crossing
the log bridge afoot and then apparently to the lean-to.”
“That ain’t so!” Dobbs denied, suddenly losing control of his temper.
“You’re just saying it to make trouble for me. You want me to lose my
job! You’re sore because I told Mr. Silverton about the Cubs trespassing
on the restricted area.”
“We’re reporting exactly what we saw,” Brad replied.
“Can you describe the two men?” Mr. Silverton asked, paying no attention
to Dobbs’ accusation.
“One was heavy set and about middle age,” Brad recalled. “The other was
taller. We couldn’t see their faces plainly because it was so dark.”
“They called each other Jake and Bernie,” Dan contributed.
The names struck sparks in Mr. Silverton’s mind.
“Not Bernie Bauer and Jake Freeze?” he demanded.
“We didn’t hear the last names, sir,” Dan returned regretfully.
“Nevertheless, your general description fits the pair,” Mr. Silverton
said, turning again to the crestfallen foreman. “Friends of yours, aren’t
they, Dobbs?”
“I know Bernard Bauer and Jake Freeze slightly,” Dobbs replied,
considering his words carefully. “But believe me, Mr. Silverton, they’ve
never come here. At least not to my knowledge.”
“I’ve suspected for a long while that someone was stealing some of my
best pheasants, Dobbs. In fact, we discussed it several times. But it
remained for the Cubs to bring the proof I needed!”
“Proof! What proof have they dug up? How do we know they didn’t make up
the whole story about finding those cocks in the lean-to?”
“I’ll vouch for the honesty of Brad and Dan,” said Mr. Hatfield, who had
listened silently to the discussion. “For that matter, their findings do
not surprise me. I’ve suspected for some time that trespassers were using
the old logging road.”
While the Cub leader spoke, Dan by the light of the lantern had been
inspecting the pheasant crate. Now he was ready to spring his most
important discovery.
“If you want proof that someone has been stealing pheasants, look at
this!” he exclaimed.
Attached to the shipping crate with a bit of wire was the torn half of an
old tag, showing that it had been expressed to Malborne.
In the wavering light of the lantern, Mr. Hatfield and the owner of the
pheasant farm inspected the writing.
“We found the other half of this shipping tag on the old logging road
several days ago,” Dan told Mr. Silverton. “Apparently, the crate has
been used repeatedly.”
Mr. Hatfield, who had kept the missing half of the tag, removed it from
his billfold and gave it to Mr. Silverton.
“Obviously, pheasants have been shipped out for resale,” the sportsman
said. “This convinces me. And I rather think Freeze and Bauer are our
boys!”
“The Cubs have given you a twisted story,” Dobbs whined. “I tell you I
never saw this pheasant crate before.”
“Dobbs, you’re lying!” Mr. Silverton accused him. “I’ve seen that crate
myself. Isn’t it one we kept as an extra? I remember one of the slats was
broken. You mended it—”
“And here is the repaired place,” Dan pointed it out.
Thus tripped in his story, Dobbs began to stammer and make the excuse
that he had failed to recognize the crate.
“I’ve had enough of your alibis,” Mr. Silverton said angrily. “You’ll do
the rest of your explaining to the police!”
“Don’t turn me over to the authorities, Mr. Silverton,” the man pleaded.
“I’ve worked for you two years—doing the best I could. I did make
mistakes—I admit it, and the worst one was ever getting acquainted with
those two yellow dogs, Jake Freeze and Bernie Bauer.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere, Dobbs. So you admit you worked with them in
stealing my pheasants?”
“If I tell you the whole story, will you let me off?” Dobbs tried to
bargain.
“We’ll see,” his employer returned coldly. “Unless you do tell me, I’ll
call the police. I promise you that!”
Dobbs drew a deep breath and said sullenly: “Well, it was like this: I
knew Freeze and Bauer several years ago before I came to work for you.
During the war I was employed by a man named Willis who had an estate
north of here.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Silverton nodded.
“He had deer in his forest. Meat was scarce then, and it seemed a shame
for folks to go without, just for want of a few ration stamps.”
“So you made a deal to supply deer to Freeze and Bauer?” Mr. Silverton
demanded, guessing at the story.
“That’s about the size of it,” Dobbs admitted. “Only they came to me with
the proposition. I never liked the business, so I pulled out and came to
Webster City.”
“Then you got mixed up in pheasant stealing?”
“Not intentionally. Believe me, Mr. Silverton, I’ve worked hard trying to
keep things running smoothly here.”
“You receive a generous salary for your work, I believe?”
“Oh, I ain’t complaining,” Dobbs said uncomfortably. “You’ve been decent
to me—mighty decent.”
“How did you get mixed up with Freeze and Bauer again?”
“They learned I was working for you and followed me here. At first I
wouldn’t listen to ’em, but they kept threatening if I didn’t play along,
they’d tip off to you about my previous black market activities. Then I
knew I’d lose my job.”
“So you made a deal with them?”
“They forced me into it. I never got much out of it myself.”
“How long has this stealing been going on, Dobbs?”
“Only since last fall. At first Freeze and Bauer didn’t take many
pheasants. Lately, they’ve pressured me into letting them have more and
more.”
“The pheasants were shipped out of town for sale, just as the Cubs
thought?”
“I don’t know where they were sold,” Dobbs said. “Freeze and Bauer never
told me any of the details of their business, and I didn’t ask. Mostly
they drove in here at night, using the old logging road.”
“You let them know when the coast was clear, so to speak?”
“They made me do that. But believe me, Mr. Silverton, I never let ’em
have as many pheasants as they wanted.”
“Very considerate of my interests,” the sportsman said sarcastically.
“You knew about the log jam in the creek, of course.”
“Freeze and Bauer put the logs in so they could cross the stream at that
point and reach the lean-to. I was afraid it might make trouble, but I
didn’t look for the rains to be so heavy.”
“You left the two pheasant cocks in the lean-to and then went away late
this afternoon? That was to give your friends a chance to come here while
you were away?”
“They ain’t friends of mine,” Dobbs insisted. “I told you, they’ve been
making life mighty hard for me.”
“Where do the two live?”
“At a little hotel on Brady Avenue in Webster City.”
“I’ll swear out a warrant for their arrest immediately,” Mr. Silverton
declared. “As for you, Dobbs—”
“Don’t be too hard on me,” the workman pleaded. “I told you the whole
truth. I never would have got mixed up in the dirty business only they
kept after me. I’ll be glad to see ’em behind bars.”
“Will you testify against them?”
“I will if you’ll let me off, Mr. Silverton. I swear it!”
“All right,” the sportsman agreed, impatient to be finished with the
discussion. “I want no scandal, so I’ll let you off. But understand this!
You’re through here—fired. Now get out! My secretary will send you your
final pay check.”
“Thanks, Mr. Silverton,” Dobbs mumbled, shuffling toward the door.
His heavy boots sloshed through a trickle of water which had seeped
unnoticed into the barn.
“The creek’s still rising!” he exclaimed, startled.
As Dobbs thrust open the barn door, more water trickled in.
Mr. Silverton seized the lantern from the floor. As he flashed it
out-of-doors, he saw that the entire area near the house and barn was
flooded.
“It’s coming up fast!” he exclaimed in dismay. “We’ve got to dynamite the
log jam right away or the water will keep rising!”