Dan Carter-- Cub Scout Page 9

  CHAPTER 9 A Rising Creek

  Alarmed by the intensity of the storm, Dan and Brad made a dash throughthe whipping trees, seeking an open area. Rain now was descending withfurious power, lashing directly into their faces.

  "Gosh, I can't see a thing!" Dan gasped. "Which way is the road?"

  Brad turned on the beam of his flashlight, but it failed to penetrate theblinding wall of rain.

  Just then the lightning flared again, revealing an opening through thebushes. Beyond Brad glimpsed the old logging road, a river of rainwaterdespite its under-base of gravel.

  "This way, Dan!" he shouted encouragingly. "Follow me."

  Sloshing through water and mud, they reached the barrier fence andclimbed over. The blinding sheet of rain all but blotted out a view ofthe pavement.

  "We're safer here anyhow," Brad said as they emerged from the woodland."Brother! Is this a storm?"

  The rain showed no signs of slackening. However, now that the boys werein a cleared area, the wind seemed less menacing.

  "It's dropping a little," Brad observed, studying the treetops along thepavement. "The crest of the storm probably has passed."

  "But the rain is still wet," Dan shivered. "And it's steady. No sign of alet-up."

  Along the ditches, muddy water was rushing at a furious rate, drainingtoward the nearby river.

  The two boys scarcely knew which direction to go. They could recall nohouses close by where they might seek shelter. The nearest habitation wasMr. Holloway's camp across the river, but they had no boat.

  "There's a filling station up the road about a quarter of a mile!" Bradrecalled, shouting to make himself heard above the roar of the wind."Let's go there!"

  Dan nodded and followed his companion. Rain drove directly into theirfaces, closing off their view and making it difficult to walk.

  "I sure wish a car would come along," Brad muttered.

  Now that they would have welcomed a ride, the busy highway suddenly hadbecome a deserted thoroughfare.

  Struggling on, the Cubs presently came to a stone bridge arching over acreek. Upon reaching it, the boys noticed that already its murky waterswere within two inches of flooding the pavement.

  "Wow!" Brad exclaimed, pausing to glance briefly at the raging torrent."She's coming up fast--and I mean fast!"

  "Isn't this the same creek that flows through Mr. Silverton's property,Brad?"

  "That's right."

  "If the log jam hasn't been cleared out before this, the water's likelyto start backing up in the pheasant runs just as Mr. Hatfield predicted!"

  "I'm afraid of it," Brad agreed. "Saul Dobbs ought to have looked afterthings. But if he failed to, well, this storm will sure make a mess ofthings at the farm."

  The boys stood a moment longer watching the torrent race beneath thestone archway. So fast was the creek rising that they could see thelapping waters nibbling away at the concrete. It would soon cover thepavement.

  "Twenty minutes and the water will be running over the road," Brad said."If it's clearing out at the pheasant farm, all well and good. But if itstarts backing up there, Dobbs is in for plenty of trouble."

  Dan made no reply. The two boys pushed on through the slanting rainwithout meeting or being passed by a car. Finally, soaked and muddy, theyreached the filling station.

  An attendant, seeing them coming, flung open the office door.

  "You look like a couple of drowned rats," he laughed. "Here, shed thosecoats before you flood the place!"

  Brad and Dan stripped off their slickers and wiped their dripping faceswith a coarse towel which the attendant brought from one of the restrooms. Then they sat down by the electric heater to outwait the rain.

  "This is a regular cloudburst," the filling station attendant remarked,watching the rain pelt against the window. "Worst storm we've had thissummer."

  "May we use your telephone?" Dan requested.

  "Sure. Go ahead. It's your nickel."

  Dan dialed Mr. Hatfield's number, intending to tell the Cub leader thathe and Brad had taken refuge at the filling station.

  There was no answer. Actually, the Cub leader at the moment was drivingto the logging road. Alarmed by the intensity of the storm, he had lostno time in setting forth to pick up the Cubs.

  Unable to reach Mr. Hatfield, Dan next telephoned his own home where hismother answered.

  "I'm glad you are safe, Dan," she said in relief. "I'll call Brad'smother and set her mind at ease. Don't try to come home until the rainlets up."

  For a half hour, the storm continued without signs of slackening. Then assuddenly as it had started, the rain ended. Clouds gradually cleared awayand the sun straggled out. Steam began to rise from the drying pavement.

  Brad and Dan wandered outside, debating whether to return to their postor walk to Webster City.

  "Mr. Hatfield wouldn't expect us to go back there after such a terrificstorm," Brad said. "On the other hand, I don't like to walk off a jobjust because the going gets tough."

  A big truck loaded with furniture rumbled into the station. The driversprang out and after ordering the attendant to fill up the gasoline tank,began to inspect the heavy-tread tires.

  "That was sure some storm," he remarked to the filling station man. "Upin the hills the rain was heavy."

  "It's a cinch the river will rise again," replied the attendant, removingthe hose from the mouth of the gasoline tank. "Creeks running high?"

  "Out of their banks most places."

  "Any serious floods between here and Alton Heights?"

  "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The water's coming up fast. Iwas lucky to get through."

  The snatch of conversation had been overheard by Brad and Dan and addedto their alarm.

  Although they knew the river would not rise to a dangerous level for manyhours, the flood risk at Silverton's pheasant farm was immediate.

  If the rain had been heavy in the hill area as reported by the trucker,then an enormous amount of water soon would pour down into Crooked Creek.Even under normal circumstance, the narrow stream scarcely could beexpected to carry the excess away without flooding.

  Brad stood nervously drumming his fingers against the wall of the fillingstation, thinking matters over.

  "I sure wish I knew if Saul Dobbs ever cleared away that log jam," hesaid. "What do you think, Dan?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine. But knowing him, I'd say he hasn'ttouched those logs."

  "That's what I'm afraid of Dan. Dobbs has been mighty unpleasant to theCubs. Even so, I'd hate to see any of Mr. Silverton's pheasants drownthrough his carelessness."

  "Same here."

  "Dan, I'm going to telephone Dobbs," Brad said, reaching a suddendecision. "Then we'll have the matter off our minds at least. Got anickel?"

  "My last one," Dan said, fishing a coin from his pocket.

  Brad found the number of the Silverton Pheasant Farm in the directorywhich hung from a cord on the wall. But no one answered his call. Heallowed the telephone to ring a long while before finally hanging up thereceiver.

  "No use," he said in disappointment. "Dobbs doesn't seem to be there.Maybe he's outside looking after the pheasants."

  The filling station attendant who had come into the office for change,overheard Brad's remark.

  "You're trying to get Saul Dobbs?" he inquired.

  "That's right."

  "You won't find him at the pheasant farm. Just before the storm broke Isaw him driving toward Webster City."

  "And he hasn't returned since?"

  "Haven't seen him."

  "Then that means there's no one in charge now at the pheasant farms,"Brad said anxiously. "With the creek rising so fast, it's likely to backup into the pens."

  "Saul Dobbs is a careless, shiftless sort," the filling station manreplied with a shrug. "I never could see why Mr. Silverton kept him incharge."

  Turning from the telephone, Brad's troubled eyes sought those of Dan insilent
question.

  Both boys knew that something must be done quickly if the pheasants wereto be saved. Yet they hesitated to disobey by again venturing ontoprivate property to investigate the choked stream.

  "Let's telephone Mr. Silverton," Dan urged. "Being in the city, he maynot realize how heavy the rain was out here."

  Brad lost no time in making the call. But when he gave his name at Mr.Silverton's office, he coldly was informed that the sportsman was "busy."

  "I must talk to him right away," Brad argued. "It's important."

  "Sorry," repeated the voice. "Mr. Silverton has given orders that yourcalls are not to be transmitted to him. So sorry." The receiver clickedin his ear.

  "How'd you like that?" Brad howled. "We try to save his old pheasants andhe won't even talk to us!"

  "We've got to get word to him somehow," Dan insisted. "Brad--"

  "Yeah?"

  "Why don't we hitch a ride with that truck driver into the city? If wecan get to Silverton's office in time, we ought to be able to makesomeone understand what's happening out here."

  Brad did not take a moment to debate. Already the trucker was starting topull away from the filling station.

  "Come on," he urged, bolting out the door.

  The boys signaled the truck driver who halted just before he reached themain highway.

  "Are you driving to Webster City?" Dan shouted.

  "That's right."

  "Will you give us a lift?"

  "I sure will," the trucker agreed heartily, opening the cab door. "Hopin, boys."

  As the truck rattled along the slippery road, Dan and Brad told thedriver of their urgent reason for reaching the Gardiner Building.

  "You're making no mistake in thinking that creek will flood," the truckerdeclared, putting on more speed. "Even if the stream isn't clogged, she'ssure to go over her banks."

  To help the boys, the driver dropped them off directly in front of theGardiner Building. Their shoes caked with mud, their wet hair stillplastered down, the pair made a sorry appearance as they entered Mr.Silverton's outer office.

  Seeing Brad and Dan, the receptionist regarded them with colddisapproval.

  "I told you over the telephone that Mr. Silverton will not see you," shesaid before Brad could speak. "Those are his orders."

  "But we must see him!" Brad insisted. "Rains have flooded the creek andsome of the pheasants may drown if they aren't taken care of right away!"

  The receptionist looked somewhat startled. Having no idea what the boyswere talking about, she shook her head.

  "I positively cannot disturb Mr. Silverton now," she said. "If you wantto wait on the chance he'll see you when he comes out, you may."

  "How long will that be?" Dan asked.

  "Mr. Silverton usually leaves his office at four-thirty."

  "That's fifteen minutes yet," Brad said, glancing anxiously at the wallclock. "We shouldn't delay. Please--"

  "I've already explained that I cannot disturb Mr. Silverton. Now if youdon't mind, I have work to do."

  The receptionist busied herself typing a letter. However, the boys sawher gaze with disapproval at the enlarging pool of water which drippedfrom their slickers onto the floor.

  At intervals, Dan and Brad would get up from the bench and go to thewindow. Fifteen minutes already had elapsed. And still Mr. Silverton'soffice door remained closed.

  Then at twenty minutes to five, when the Cubs had nearly given up hope,the sportsman unexpectedly walked out of his inner office. He wore hishat and coat and would have passed through without speaking to anyone,had not the receptionist stopped him.

  "Mr. Silverton, these boys have been waiting a long while to see you,"she informed the pheasant farm owner. "They are quite insistent that itis important."

  The sportsman gazed at Brad and Dan, and appeared to look straightthrough them.

  Deliberately turning his back, he then strode toward the outer door.

  The Cubs had no intention of allowing him so easily to elude them.

  "Please, Mr. Silverton, we must see you for a minute!" Dan exclaimed,starting after him.

  The sportsman acted as if he had not heard the appeal. Walking rapidly,he continued toward the elevator.

  Rebuffed, but nevertheless determined that Mr. Silverton should listen,the two boys pursued him down the hall.

  "Mr. Silverton, listen to us just for a moment--" Brad began, but thestock broker cut him short.

  "Pests!" he exclaimed. "Unless you cease annoying me, I'll turn you overto a policeman. I've had quite enough of Cub Scouts!"

  By this time the elevator had stopped at the third floor. Glaring angrilyat Brad and Dan, Mr. Silverton entered the cage.

  But not alone.

  Stung by the sportman's bitter words, the two boys crowded in with him.The cage door closed.

  "Mr. Silverton," Dan said, gazing directly at the sportsman. "We're sorryto force ourselves upon you. But I'm afraid you'll have to listen to usnow."

  "Oh, I will, eh?" Mr. Silverton demanded. "We'll see about that!" Herapped his cane sharply on the floor of the cage door. "Attendant, let meout of here!"

  However, he spoke too late, for already the elevator was moving slowlydownward.