“We’ll keep goin’ now,” Denver continued, “an’ take a little rest in the morning just before we hit the rapids. Then we take our time with the cows. Mike said he’d have ponies waitin’ for us. We drive the cows off Trummer’s range, hide ’em somewhere, an’ when Manley comes up, his Durhams are gone, an’ he says Trummer drove ’em into the river, like he said he would! What could be simpler?”
“You sure got it down pat, Denver,” said a third voice. “Lucky for us that storm came up. All we have to do is to sit back an’ drift along—make good time, too.”
“You allus was a great feller fer work, Porky,” Denver said contemptuously. “How you ever—”
The voice died away. Bunk had evidently steered the canoe further from the shore, and the murmur of the still turbulent waters drowned out the words that followed.
Teddy turned excitedly to Roy.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered. “Come on! Let’s get the gang! Rustlers, that’s what they are! After our cattle! And they’ll beat us to it, unless we can nab ’em!”
Roy had already turned and was running toward their camp.
“See to the canoe!” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll get the others. Take out all the stuff except the rifles. We’ll get those waddies yet!”
Realizing that haste was imperative, Teddy stumbled toward the canoe. Frantically he started to unload. Heedless of consequences, he threw the articles right and left, concentrating on the job of emptying the craft as soon as possible. Every moment the rustlers were getting farther and farther away.
“This is our chance to save the cattle,” the boy panted, as he tossed out the last can of foodstuff. “The dirty rustlers! Trying to frame Trummer, too. If I could only—”