“He went over into one of yonder buildings.”
“I know it, and I’ve got an idea,” answered our hero. “Let us see if we can’t sneak across the roadway without being seen and then come up to those buildings through the thick grass and behind that chaparral. If we expose ourselves Porton will, of course, keep out of our sight or run away.”
With extreme caution the two chums worked their way through the tall grass to the edge of the roadway. Then, watching their chance when nobody seemed to be looking, they dashed to the other side and into the grass again. Then they began to work their way cautiously in the direction of the group of buildings into which the former moving-picture actor had disappeared.
The buildings belonged to a Mexican ranch; but the place had evidently been the scene of a fight at some time in the past, for one of the buildings was completely wrecked and several of the others much battered. There were no horses, cattle, pigs, or chickens anywhere in sight; and the youths came to the conclusion that the ranch had been abandoned by its owner.
“Probably some of those guerrillas came along and cleaned him out,” observed Dave, “and after that he didn’t think it would be worth while to stay so long as the country was in a state of war.”
In a few minutes more Dave and his chum gained the first of the buildings. Here they paused to listen and to look around.
“You want to be on your guard, Roger,” whispered our hero. “Porton may be watching us and he may have some of his friends here. For all we know this may be his hang-out.”
“I’ll be on guard, don’t fear,” answered the senator’s son, and brought forth his pistol.