Assured that he had suffered no damage that was really serious, Bob gave some thought to other pressing matters. Since no one had appeared after he had broken out of the hut, he must have been right when he figured that Harper had had no intention of sticking around all night.
But because no one was around now, it did not mean that no one would be. Probably the best plan would be to go and go quickly before either Wesley or Harper decided to come down and bring their captive food and water.
“Some surprise those chaps will get!” laughed Bob to himself as he started down the river in the general direction of the dam. “I wonder what they’ll do. Hit the high spots probably getting away from this neck of the woods!”
It took longer to get back to camp than he had supposed, for he was afraid to leave the river which served as his guide. Therefore it was nearly noon when a bend of the river showed him the dam.
Fearing that his appearance would cause a sensation, Bob waded and then swam across the shallow river and struck off to one side, meaning to circle around to the upper camp. Then he could slip into the Quarter-house by the back way.
This maneuver was executed without mishap and the only person who saw him go in was the Mexican cook, who paid little attention.
“I guess he thinks the Gringo got mixed up with a charge of dynamite!” was the boy’s reflection as he scuttled up to his room.
It was not long before he presented himself, washed and changed, at the general offices. As he went in he asked the girl at the telephone if Mr. Whitney had returned.
“Not yet,” was the crisp reply, “but Mr. Taylor wants to see you. Jerry King didn’t show up to-day either and he’s worried.”
So Jerry had not come back. It did not surprise Bob much, but it meant that Jerry had now openly allied himself with the other faction. The fight was to be in the open, from now on. Coming back to himself, he asked: “Where’s Mr. Taylor then?”