Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record онлайн

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“I reckon they stayed here,” said Bleeker. “Their horses could browse on the mesquite beans, and it wouldn’t have been much of a hardship for Lenning and Shoup to sleep in the open. But why did they do it, when they could just as well have returned to Dolliver’s?”

“Perhaps they were afraid to go to Dolliver’s; that is, if they really took Mrs. Boorland’s money.”

“They’re hanging out in the hills for some purpose, that’s plain,” mused Bleeker. “We might as well keep on, Chip, and see what we can find.”

The gulch and the cañon formed a right angle, and the course the two lads were taking was carrying them nearer and nearer the deeper and narrower defile. The hills among which they traveled were low, but there were many of them, and they kept to the valleys between. Now and then, either Merriwell or Bleeker would climb one of the uplifts and take a look at the country around them. They could see nothing of the fellows they were trying to find.

“We ought to have brought our horses,” grumbled Bleeker. “If we hadn’t started in such a rush we’d have thought of that. Lenning and Shoup have mounts, and if they see us first they’ll get away and we can’t stop them.”