“Chances are, Chip,” cried Clancy, “Blunt will never find them. They’re a foxy pair, and if they really stole that money, then they’ll be mighty careful to keep out of sight.”
“Maybe Shoup didn’t take the money, after all,” suggested Ballard.
“He’s a thief, Pink,” said Frank, “and I wouldn’t put it past him. The fellow’s not in his right mind for very much of the time.”
“That’s so. Do you think Lenning would stand for thieving of that sort on Shoup’s part?”
“Sure he would,” asserted Clancy. “That cub would stand for anything that didn’t call for any particular nerve on his part. He’s as crooked as Shoup; or, if he isn’t, he’ll be as crooked as Shoup before he’s been with him very long.”
“They say Lenning’s father was wild, and was killed in a brawl somewhere in Alaska,” remarked Ballard. “I suppose we couldn’t expect much better things of Lenning.”
“There you go, Pink!” exclaimed Merry. “What Lenning’s father did isn’t any excuse for Lenning.”
“Right!” laughed Ballard. “Lenning’s handicap is a bit different from yours, Chip, but I spoke before I thought.”
The walls of the gulch widened out, and as the boys rode along the border of the pent-up waters, they came presently into view of three white tents, pitched on a strip of clean, sandy beach.
Dinner was being made ready. A fire had been started, and the campers could be seen moving about, each doing his allotted part of the work.