"We'll go on and see," said Merry. "You fellows can lope along and get there in time to help Clancy and me, if we find they're too many for us."
"Correct, Merriwell. We'll come a-smoking."
Frank and Owen ducked through the rough country like a couple of meteors. The daylight was all they needed to help them in their flight over a course so carefully covered the night before. Again, as once before, the professor's claim was at stake, and the motorcycles were pushed to, the utmost in an attempt to reach McGurvin's and head off the scoundrelly work of the plotters.
It seemed almost no time at all until the verdant spot, irrigated by McGurvin's well, came into view in the distance across the bare sands.
"We'll make a detour, Clan," said Merry, "and come up on the ranch from the rear. There are only two of us, you know, and we will have to proceed with care if we don't want to spoil everything."
"Sure," Clancy promptly assented. "We'd better leave our machines in the brush somewhere, and move up on the adobe on foot. If we don't, McGurvin will hear us."
This plan was carried out. The motor cycles were left at a safe distance, and the lads crept cautiously forward under the screen of McGurvin's corral. Corn was growing in the irrigated truck patch, and Merry and Clancy got into it and moved upon the house.
Presently they began to hear voices; then, catching a glimpse of McGurvin's hitching pole, they saw a saddle horse secured there.
"Looks like our man was here already," Merry whispered in his chum's ear.
"Where is the talking coming from?" returned Clancy. "It seems pretty close."