Bob quickly explained their presence.
“That’s all right and I’m mighty glad to know you,” and he held out his hand. “My friend, Jim Blake, told me, just before I came up here from Washington, how you helped him locate a still over on Mount Bigelow last summer.”
“And I’m very glad to shake hands with a friend of Jim Blake,” Bob declared, as he grasped the outstretched hand.
Introductions followed all around.
“You certainly came at the right time for us,” Rex declared.
“Yes, I rather guess we did. They’re a bad bunch and might have made you uncomfortable to say the least,” the officer said, with a glance at his prisoners who were standing, in a sullen group, guarded by one of his men.
“Now, Hen,” he said, addressing the other man, “let’s see what they’ve got under that canvass. Bill’ll look out for ’em.”
“Just as I thought,” he declared a moment later, as, the canvass being stripped off, a large quantity of jugs and bottles were disclosed. “You see these birds brought this stuff across the border and were taking it down to Jackman. We heard about it and started to meet ’em, but they must have got wind some way that we were after ’em and were beating it back over the line.
“How’d you know we were after you, Joe?” he called to the breed.
But Joe refused to answer.