Part 40 (1/2)

”That's the talk!” put in Packard Brown. ”Come on!”

All left the ranch and headed directly for the river, at the point where Ward had left his flat-bottomed rowboat. Dave and Roger followed them, but did their best to keep out of sight in the tall gra.s.s.

”Oh, Dave, I hope they do go over to the other sh.o.r.e!” exclaimed the senator's son. ”It will be so much easier to capture them.”

”Exactly, Roger. And don't you remember what Ward told his father--that he had left the miniature cases hidden on the other side? He said they were on a high knoll not far from where the boats had been tied up. We ought to be able to find that _cache_.”

By the time the two chums gained the sh.o.r.e of the Rio Grande those ahead of them had already entered Ward Porton's boat. Ward and Brown each had an oar and rowed as rapidly as possible to the other side of the stream. Jarvey Porton sat in the stern of the craft, and looked back from time to time, trying to catch sight of the guerrillas and the other Mexicans, who were still shouting and firing at a distance.

”Hadn't you better hold back a bit, Dave, so they don't see you?”

questioned Roger, as he and our hero managed to gain the rowboat they had used, which, fortunately, had been placed some distance away from the other craft.

”Good advice, Roger, if it wasn't for one thing. I don't want to give them a chance to get out of our sight. Let us tie our handkerchiefs over the lower parts of our faces. Then they won't be able to recognize us--at least unless we get pretty close.”

With Dave's suggestion carried out, the chums leaped into the rowboat, and, this done, each took an oar. They pulled hard, and as a consequence reached the mouth of the little creek on the United States side in time to see those ahead just disembarking.

”Where do you suppose they are going?” queried the senator's son.

”That remains to be found out,” answered Dave. ”Duck now, so they won't see us.” And with a quick motion of the oar he possessed he sent the flat-bottomed boat in among some tall gra.s.s which bordered the creek at this point.

Ward Porton and those with him had tied up their boat and were walking to the higher ground away from the creek. Jarvey Porton paused to look back along the creek and the bosom of the river beyond.

”I don't see anything on the river just now,” he announced.

”Look! Some one is coming from the other way!” exclaimed his son, suddenly.

”Is that Lawson, the ranchman?” questioned Packard Brown, anxiously.

”No, I don't think it is,” answered Ward Porton. ”They seem to be strangers,” he added, a minute later.

Two men and a well-grown boy were approaching. They came on slowly, as if looking for some one.

”I'd like to know what those fellows want around here,” came from Jarvey Porton, as he gave up looking along the river to inspect the newcomers.

From their position in the tall gra.s.s bordering the creek, Dave and Roger looked from the Porton party to those who were approaching.

Then, of a sudden, our hero uttered a low exclamation of surprise.

”Look who's here, Roger! Ben Ba.s.swood and my Uncle Dunston! And Mr.

Andrews is with them!”

”Oh, Dave! are you sure?”

”Of course I am! I would know my Uncle Dunston as far as I could see him. And you ought to know Ben.”

”My gracious, Dave, you're right! This sure is luck!”

”I know what I'm going to do,” decided our hero, quickly. ”I'm going to send both of the boats adrift. Then, no matter what happens, those rascals won't have any easy time of it getting back to Mexico.”

In feverish haste Dave sent the flat-bottomed boat out into the creek once more. Roger a.s.sisted him, and a few strokes of the oars brought the craft alongside of that which had been used by the Porton party.