Turning the instrument toward the banks of the river, it was not many minutes before he descried two men, making their way among the rocks and undergrowth in the direction of the point indicated as the one from which the lads had made their exit. The clumps of bushes, huge rocks, and here and there a few trees, intervened so frequently, and the men were picking their way with so much caution, that it was only now and then Old Ruff was able to get a fair look at them; but he succeeded in discovering that both were white men, dressed somewhat like Indians, and he was able also to keep himself informed of the general direction taken by them. When still several hundred yards from the river, they halted. Old Ruff could see it was near some shrubbery, which concealed their movements and hid them from his view. He held the glass pointed fully ten minutes toward them, but still they remained invisible. “That’s the spot!” he exclaimed to himself, as he lowered the instrument, and looked at it sharply with the unaided eye, until he felt he had fixed it in his memory. “There’s the door to one of the cellars where Oregon has stored something rich, and into which Old Ruff Robsart means to take a peep one of these days.” Nothing remained now to be done but to resume their journey toward their own lodge, and the three descended the ridge, Old Robsart taking the lead and the boys following silently. A half-hour later they reached the stream, beside which Little Rifle was walking when we introduced him to our readers in the first chapter. Here a canoe was drawn from its concealment, and the three entered and were paddled across by Old Ruff, who was in an especially good-natured and humorous mood. When they once more placed their feet upon _terra firma_, he took great care to conceal the boat, so that it would not be likely to attract the eye of any one unless he stumbled directly upon it. “I used to cut my name on my boats,” he said in explanation, “so that the varmints could know what chap they belonged to, and consequently what trouble he’d get into if he ran away with ’em; but you see the varmints ain’t well up in their eddycation, and I s’pose they sometimes thought it was thar names instead of mine. Leastways they run off with so many of ’em that it bu’sted me for a time, and arter that I’ve made it a practice to hide ’em.” “Hide whom?” asked Harry, with a laugh--“the canoes or the Indians?” “Both, whenever I got the chance, but thar’s one question I could never settle in my mind, and you seem to be rather a cute chap, mebbe you kin settle it for me.” “I’ll do the best I can,” replied the lad; “let me hear what it is.”