Presently appetite asserted itself, and dinner was prepared and eaten. It was after the meal that Constable Dock and his deputy came by the door.
"Any thing in there to eat, youngsters?" inquired the constable, looking in through the doorway.
"Plenty, I think. Come in, sir—you and your friend," Dick made answer.
The boys bustled about, making coffee, broiling steak and reheating the potatoes that had been left over from their own meal. This, with bread and butter, satisfied the hunger of their guests.
In the meantime the constable described how he and his friend had followed the game for some five miles or more.
"It's my opinion that the scoundrel won't come back here at all," declared the officer.
"We have been afraid that he would, by night, or later," admitted Dick Prescott.
"No!" retorted the constable with emphasis. "That rascal would figure that I would be lying in wait here for him. So he'll give the spot a wide berth. He doesn't want to be arrested."
"You'll be welcome to use the cook shack, if you want to wait there for him," volunteered Dick.
"Not a bit of use, my boy. I'd only be wasting my time. You've seen your last of that fellow around here. But now, another matter. One of your mates told me, Prescott, that you had uncovered a lot of plunder here in the cabin."