“Come on, Chot,” whispered Rick. “We’ll clean our guns, too!”
The boys could hardly wait for morning to come, but it arrived strictly on schedule and almanac time, and soon after breakfast two flivvers loaded with deputy sheriffs rattled into camp.
And now a big disappointment awaited the lads, for, after a conference between the chief deputy and Uncle Tod, the order was given:
“You lads’ll have to stay in camp!”
“Oh, Uncle Tod!” cried Rick. “We just got to go!”
“We want to see the fight—and help!” sang out Chot.
“Maybe you can’t find the place without us,” added Rick, hopefully.
“Oh, I reckon we can,” drawled the chief deputy, Matt Mason by name. “I know where it is—it’s the only location around here where they could turn the stream the way you say they have. I’d like to let you boys come along, but it’s too dangerous.”
But Chot and Rick looked so sad over the prospect of being left behind that finally, after a talk, it was decided they could ride in the flivver with Sam and Uncle Tod as close to the dam as was considered safe, and could then look on from a hidden vantage point, taking, however, no part in the fight—in case there was one.
“But if that Lawson gang gets the best of you, can’t we jump in and help?” asked Rick.