“Because Mr. Glassford said he had instructed Boise to just live out here until we came—not to go away at all. And yet he isn’t here.”
“Maybe he didn’t expect us, and has gone to town for supplies,” suggested Ned.
“In that case, as Mr. Glassford wrote, he was to have a friend on guard. Yet no one seems to be here.”
“Maybe he’s asleep,” ventured Bob.
Jerry kicked on the door, with enough force to awaken the soundest sleeper, but there was no response from inside. Suddenly, from the fields back of the boys came a hail.
“Hey! What are you fellows doing at that hangar? Get away!”
A man came running toward them. He seemed quite angry.
“Get away!” he ordered.
“Who are you?” asked Jerry, a sudden fear coming into his heart.
“I’m the watchman—Boise is my name—but I’m on my way to Denver now.”