“If catching a gang of gun runners is enough, I think I did.”
“What’s that?” inquired Capt. Peak. “You think you have a line on them?”
“You can judge for yourself,” replied Adrian, and he related what he had seen.
“Don Pablo Ojeda!” exclaimed Capt. Peak as soon as Adrian had described the appearance of the man on the opposite shore. “If we can only catch him red-handed, it will be a great capture!”
“You don’t mean he’s the old chap who tried to steal our mule, do you?”
“He surely is,” declared Donald. “The description fits him perfectly.”
“And it’s very plain, now,” continued the captain, “why they selected this spot. It is only half a mile up stream from the trail that leads from Don Pablo’s to the river—just far enough for a boat to float down of its own accord. All it would take would be one man to steer. Once the guns were put on board, the others could ride down the river, swim their horses across and thus avoid any trouble in case the boat were discovered.”
“I’m glad if my information is of any use,” said Adrian.
“It unquestionably is. Now then,” and the captain mounted his horse, “to make arrangements to capture all who come to this side of the river.”
“Hadn’t we ought to notify the Mexican authorities?” queried Donald.