“That remains to be found out,” answered Dave. “Duck now, so they won’t see us.” And with a quick motion of the oar he possessed he sent the flat-bottomed boat in among some tall grass which bordered the creek at this point.
Ward Porton and those with him had tied up their boat and were walking to the higher ground 283 away from the creek. Jarvey Porton paused to look back along the creek and the bosom of the river beyond.
“I don’t see anything on the river just now,” he announced.
“Look! Some one is coming from the other way!” exclaimed his son, suddenly.
“Is that Lawson, the ranchman?” questioned Packard Brown, anxiously.
“No, I don’t think it is,” answered Ward Porton. “They seem to be strangers,” he added, a minute later.
Two men and a well-grown boy were approaching. They came on slowly, as if looking for some one.
“I’d like to know what those fellows want around here,” came from Jarvey Porton, as he gave up looking along the river to inspect the newcomers.
From their position in the tall grass bordering the creek, Dave and Roger looked from the Porton party to those who were approaching. Then, of a sudden, our hero uttered a low exclamation of surprise.
“Look who’s here, Roger! Ben Basswood and my Uncle Dunston! And Mr. Andrews is with them!”