“Where did you learn about the Rambler?” he asked. “How long have you been waiting here for us? Who told you to wait?”
“Don did,” was the quiet reply. “He said he’d wait farther down the river. We’re going up the Colorado with you—so Don says!”
“So Don was here recently?”
“Indeed he was, and told me to wait. He came over from Phoenix on a run, with a thousand deputy sheriffs after him. He got a boat and went down the river to meet you. Did he find you?”
Clay did not answer the question. Instead he asked one.
“So you both thought the Rambler would be a good place to hide?”
“Of course we did—to hide in and also to travel on! We know all about the Rambler. The Chicago newspapers wrote you up, you and the boat. We read all about the Columbia river trip, and all about the trip you were ready to take on the Colorado, so, as we wanted to get up into the canyons, we decided to go with you.”
“What are you going to the canyons for?” asked Clay, thinking of the mysterious papers Alex had discovered in Don’s belt. “Are you both going there to hide until the trouble blows over?”
“When we come back from the canyons,” Tom declared, with a weak grin, “J. P. Morgan won’t have a thing on us! You see!”
“Money up there?” asked Clay, shortly, resolved to draw the boy out.